It is still dark when Techno returns back inside, although morning is not far to follow behind. Tommy and Wilbur have left already, declining the offer to stay for the night. It is for the best, but Phil could not help but offer anyways. Techno’s posture is calm, the tension gone from him limbs, but his eyes are still clouded with complicated emotions. They are not red at least, Phil muses, the voices aren’t overwhelming him.

Not that his own turmoil is any less severe or important than the ruckus the voices cause. He seems exhausted, undoubtedly having spent the majority of his time outside hacking away at mobs. It has been a long, long while since he felt the need to calm his agitation through violence.

Not since the time when they had to leave the server. It had been rough for him back then, rage coursing through him whenever he remembered the home they lost. Since then he had went through quite some changes. Living in peace again for a while had calmed the blood lust of the voices, instead of hungering for more, opposed to how it had been back in the dsmp. He was not just avoiding danger; there simply was none on this server, outside of the mobs. If you could truly count those as danger, even if the smaller zombies being a major threat was an inside joke between him and Phil.

Techno hangs up his cape and heads for the bedrooms, before hesitating. He turns back and heads to the kitchen instead, seemingly deciding against sleep. To be fair, it is almost morning and time to feed their livestock. A moment later, quiet sounds of tea being prepared filter through to where Phil sits. Not long after, Techno comes back with two cups, and joins Phil at the table.

Phil accepts the cup with quiet thanks, and watches as Techno sits down. He waits a moment, looking at the downturned face and general misery wafting off him, before he breaks the silence.

“You’re alright, mate?”

***

Warm sunlight filters through the stained glass of church Primes windows, leaving a flurry of colours on every surface it touches. It’s peaceful in here, quiet, and the air fresh after Tommy had opened all doors and windows to air the place out. He’s done quite some work with the place, although the majority had already been done when he had gone back to the server for the first time.

All in all the building had only suffered minimal damages, even after almost 15 years of non-use and radioactive poisoning. It only took some light repairs to the facade and a replacement of the wooden pews inside. Some of the floor tiles had been cracked, but that too was an easy fix. Most time consuming had been the thorough spring-cleaning. Sweeping the floors, cleaning the windows, polishing the wood, marble, and stone until it shimmered. Cleaning the holy water fountain and replacing the water had been a little tricky, but he had managed to do it anyways. Fixing up the altar with new candles and offerings was the last thing he had done, and Church Prime had been restored back to its old glory.

That had been barely a few months ago, but he still found something to do when he came back to it now. Some dusting, some cleaning, lighting the candles, positioning the offerings just right on the altar- he kept busy.

And no- he was not stalling. Taking care of church Prime and making sure it was in perfect condition was an honour, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the frankly overwhelming backlog of messages currently sitting in his communicator. He’d get to them soon enough, first he just had to take care of church Prime. It was much more important than some annoying evil green bastards last messages, even if he had been waiting for answers for years and okay. Maybe he was stalling. But it wasn’t because he was afraid, or anything. He was just…. A little overwhelmed.

He knew that Dream died in the prison. Multiple times even. Techno and Phil had talked about that. But hearing about it and seeing the hundreds of messages containing just a single death message fly by was a little different, you know?

Maybe he was also still just a little freaked out because of the prison. The building had been every bit as imposing and threatening as it had been back in the SMPs prime. Maybe even more so, now that it had outlasted most of the servers other builds, and survived pretty much unscathed in the radioactive wasteland surrounding it. The inside at least, had been pretty much the same. A little darker than before, as some of the glow stone lamps had worn down or broken over time.

Thankfully, or not so thankfully, he knew the way to the high security cell by heart. Not that he had walked it very often, although he was probably one of the only people to have walked it multiple times. It was weird, walking it without having to follow Sam’s extensive security measures. Somehow, despite carrying all his weapons and armour with him, the walk didn’t feel any safer.

At the cell, the lava was already down. He didn’t feel like fiddling with the bridge, so he just pearled over. Standing in that little box….. was weird. Somehow, he expected it to look different. He couldn’t quite describe how, just… different.

But there it was, the same size, the same cauldron, lectern and chest. The same waterhole. The only notable “change” was the dirt that had accumulated. The water in the cauldron was murky, and the food dispenser was caked in dried up smudges of rotten potatoes. There’s a pile of something below it, and Tommy would bet that it used to be potatoes, but by now it dried and decomposed into some vaguely dirt like substance. It didn’t smell like soil, that’s for sure.

Overall, most of the cell was covered in brown stains, some even splattered up the wall. It only took some scratching at it with his shoe for a distinct metallic scent to rise up, and he realized their true nature. It was blood, simple as that. His first thought was that it might have been his own, and his eyes dart to the place where he had…. Died. But there is no discernible blood stain for him to pick out, it’s just a continuous blanket of rusted brown everywhere.

He remembers the torture, then. He hadn’t quite thought about what that entailed when Techno and Phil had mentioned it. They hadn’t gone into detail either. Tommy’s first thought had just been of exile, and how Dream had tortured him back then with the hole and the TNT. However, looking at the state of the cell it seems that this torture had been…. A lot more literal than he had expected.

He doesn’t quite know what to think about that. It’s not really related to him in any way. He hadn’t ordered it, and Quackity had done it for his own reasons. ‘The book’ he remembers, and his face sours. If Dream hadn’t mentioned the book back in his base, he would have never gone to prison. He could have just died there and he wouldn’t have needed to go through all this bullshit. TOMMY would not have needed to go through all the bullshit. It really was kind of Dreams own fault for mentioning the book.

On the  topic of books, though… Tommy stepped over to the lone chest in the corner. It’s old, the wood beginning to rot and the hinges rusty. But inside, it still houses a few belongings. Books, that is. He pulls them out, the leather bound pages still in surprising good shape. He considers to sit down on the chest for a second, as the floor is not a choice at all, but he decides to lean against the lectern instead. He just has to be a little careful in case of splinters.

There’s only a few books, and there is truly not much of interest to them. Some hold messy scribbles of the prison layout, probably to plan an escape. Others are just filled with random and nonsensical scribbles that Tommy doesn’t understand, and doodles that he has no interest in. Nothing that helped him in any way.

He sighs. On his wrist, his communicator sits undisturbed, screen black and peaceful. He muted Dream before coming here, just in case. He wanted to take a look first, see if he could find any clues. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the supposed messages he left behind. Maybe he was also a little scared of what they would entail, or maybe they would just leave him with more questions then answers.

He looks around the cell again. There really isn’t much else to look at in here. It’s dark, humid and unbearably hot. Everything is slowly rotting and there is old blood splattered on every surface. The books have been useless to him as well. All that is left is the messages.

And he is not a coward.

Or maybe he is, because here he is, sitting in church Prime busying himself with anything he can, just to avoid looking at the thousands, ten thousands of messages sitting in his communicator.

Okay, maybe he is stalling.

***

“Again, mate, Tommy will be alright. He’s grown a lot, and yesterday… yesterday was just a shock. Caught him by surprise. He’ll be alright. I don’t think he is going to stay mad at us.” He reassures. “That includes you as well, you know?” Phil smiles in Techno’s direction, but the other still doesn’t seem reassured. His brows furrow as he grips his cup worryingly tight.

“Yeah yeah, he is fine. Sure, for now. But Dream is here and he is staying and I don’t think Tommy will be too happy about that.” Techno says helplessly.  “He won’t be fine when he realizes, Phil. And I refuse to let him drag Dream somewhere else. He can’t survive on his own, Phil.”

“I know.” Phil sighs, but he doesn’t lose the reassuring smile. Although it does veer a little more to the helpless side of optimistic. “It’s all gonna work out somehow. Tommy just needs some time to figure this out on his own. He’s smart, Techno, and he is kind as well. It’s all gonna be alright.”

Somehow, Techno wonders if Phil just keeps repeating it to make himself believe in it as well.

***

Tommy felt sick.

He hadn’t known what he had expected, but not for them to immediately start with a death message. And certainly not for them to continue for dozens of messages. At first, there is quite some time in-between them, weeks, before it dwindles to days, and then it becomes daily. They always send out at a similar time at first, but then they start to get later and later. Tommy doesn’t know if it just means that Quackity pushed his schedule back and showed up later, or if it means that the… sessions got longer. He doesn’t want to think about that in particular. He doesn’t want to think about the details of the messages either, but he can’t help scrolling the almost…. catalogue of torture with a morbid curiosity. It’s like watching a train wreck. The messages vary, beginning with just weapons, before expanding to tools, potions, and other methods.

Stabbed slain pickaxe suffocated drowned sword burned cut down gutted shears choked broken branding iron bled out axe succumbed to infection illness poison rope starved lava killed killed killed killed killed died died died died died died

Even just scrolling through the messages, he couldn’t get the rusted brown blood stains out of his head. They had been everywhere, they had splattered up the wall as high as he stood. He hadn’t really thought about how they had been accomplished, but with the messages right in front of him, just continuing further and further and further, his mind begins to fill in the blanks on his own.

Dimly, he realizes that what he sees is just what killed Dream in the end. What he sees is only the end of the session, and not, looking at the times of the messages, the hours of torture beforehand.

There was so much time, and judging at the variety of death messages, Tommy can only imagine to what lengths Quackity had gone session after session. Sometimes, there are messages from Dream before a death message. Usually, when the death message is way later than the others, and the tone of the messages is mostly the same. Delirious, riddled with typos and barely decipherable, if one didn’t know the people he was calling out for. Technoblade sometimes, probably because of the favour. Punz was a reoccurring one as well, his last ally, who had betrayed him. Puffy, who Tommy knew had some weird parental relationship with Dream going on before all this, although she had denounced him when he had been in the prison. Maybe he had not known. Sometimes Bad.

And mostly George and Sapnap.

It was interesting to see who the people were Dream called for. It made sense, since they all used to be close to him in one way or another. Before the prison, that is. And yet their names are only called when the soon after appearing death message spells out a slow, painful death of poison, infection, or blood loss. Almost as if, he would never call for them if he was at full awareness.

Notably, the days after he sent messages were the ones where the death occurred the quickest. He didn’t like the implications. He didn’t understand what Quackity was thinking. It’s hard to connect these messages with the Quackity he knew. And yet it was quite easy to connect them with the Quackity that razed the entire SMP to the ground in a fit of rage over Dreams supposed escape.

And all of that for a book? Granted, it was the revive book, but who would Quackity even revive? Everyone that died had been revived, aside from… Schlatt. There was no way Quackity would revive that bastard, right? Schlatt hadn’t been very nice to him. What was there to gain from it?

At one point, the torture related death messages were interrupted by a stream of death messaged related to death through lava. At first Tommy thought it was just another thing Quackity tried, but the messages went on and on and on, far longer than any session ever had, and the times didn’t match up either. He realizes that it was Dreams doing then. He had done it intentionally. Did he try to die? But he respawned, so maybe that wasn’t his goal? “Trapped in an involuntary death loop” he remembers Techno’s words. And he remembers himself, looking longingly at lava long, long years ago.

His stomach coils. Yep, he was going to be sick.

***

When Techno returns to the kitchen still holding the full bowl of soup, Phil already knows that Dream isn’t doing as well as they had hoped. Techno’s face doesn’t do anything to ease that worry.

“He isn’t responding again.” He mutters, and Phil can see the restraint in his hands as he sets the bowl down slowly on the kitchen counter, instead of hurtling it into the sink. He stands there, for a moment, hands gripping the wooden counter worryingly tight.

“Hey…” Phil calls out, quietly, reassuringly. “This isn’t the end, you know? We were here before, we can do it again.” He laughs, softly. “Hell, this time we even know what we’re doing. It won’t be like last time. He is gonna wake up again, and then we can try and figure out what happened.”

Techno turns away. “I shouldn’t have let him stay near Tommy. I should have brought him to his room immediately.” He sounds frustrated, and guilt is laced in his tone again.

Phil sighs. “You don’t know if that would have been better though, right? He was already shaken from the encounter; what if isolating him immediately after would have made everything worse? What if it had reminded him of his imprisonment and had triggered an even worse attack?”

Phil leans back in his chair, breathing out warily. “Sure. The situation could have gone better, but it also could’ve gone infinitely worse. You did what you thought was best, and that’s what counts.”

Techno turns; finally, worry and hesitation clear in his face. “I just don’t know. He was so… panicked. He was scared of something, and I don’t understand what it was. And why did he mention XD? He shouldn’t even be able to remember the god. What if XD was involved in the memory loss?”

“Hmm” Phil ponders, but he doesn’t know enough about the patron deity of the old server. They’ve only interacted once, when they had stumbled across an end portal on accident. The deity had been ready to smite them, presuming that they had wanted to access the end. They had convinced XD that it truly hadn’t been their intention, and they were left alone after the deity disabled the portal.

It still made for an incredibly badass table though.

“You said you summoned them once, with Dream in the prison, right?” He eventually says. Techno nods in confirmation, and Phil can see the realization dawn on his face. “Could you do it again? Obviously you’d have to do it on the old server, but…. You could ask them directly.”

***

Tommy didn’t make it to a window in time, and this time he isn’t at all ashamed to say he is using the time to clean his puke of the floor to avoid the messages. He is mentally apologizing for defiling the church in this way, and yet he is grateful as well for the involuntary break. He cleans and cleans and cleans and then cleans again, until his hands are wrinkly from the water and red from the pressure of scrubbing.

Maybe he should continue outside, for the sake of the church, but being in here is what provided him with the mental strength and inner peace to read the messages at all. So instead, he dries his hands and takes a breather outside, before heading back inside. This time, he settles under a window, his legs stretched out into the warm sunbeams falling through it, while the rest is situated comfortable in the shadows to avoid the glare of the sun on the screen of his communicator.

He breathes in deeply. Time to go back. This time, he does not dwell on the death messages during the torture period too much. He skips through them as quickly as he can, although the quick glimpses are enough to make his stomach tighten in protest again.

He scrolls, and then, the messages change. Quackity’s name vanishes, and is replaced by messages announcing Dreams death by starvation. It takes a moment to set in, but then he recognizes the date on the messages. It’s been month since the last message containing Quackity’s name, and with a start he realizes the date. It’s well past the second explosion and the ensuing evacuation.

At that point, Dream had been alone. Well, aside from Tubbo, Ranboo and Michael in their little bunker. But they didn’t even know he was there. So basically, he had been forgotten and alone. But Quackity had said that Dream had escaped? And Sam had confirmed that. How was Dream still in the prison then… His head hurts.

He keeps scrolling, and quickly, the messages change to actual messages from Dream. They’re hesitant at first, calling out for anyone. They quickly grow pleading and desperate. He must have realized that they were gone. Tommy wonders how it could have taken weeks to realize, but then he remembers that no one really had visited him before and that Sam had automated any process he could to avoid having to see the prisoner, so how could he have noticed.

He sees his own name in the flurry of messages, and it makes him feel unsettled. How desperate was Dream, to call out for him, specifically? It doesn’t sit well with him, and neither does the growing desperation in the ongoing messages.

They end on a lonely please, hours after the last message, before a new death by starvation message interrupts again. Tommy scrolls. And then he abruptly stops.

***

Punz: I need to talk to you

Punz: It’s about Dream

Punz: meet me on Hypixel in 3 days, 10 am server time

Techno stares at the message on his communicator in equal parts of confusion and apprehension. It interrupted him in the middle of his research and planning for the trip to the old SMP. He truly hadn’t planned to return again, especially not so soon, but Phil’s idea had been good. Even if he would have to find a different way to summon the god, seeing as he wasn't in possession of the revival book. But still, Summoning the god and finding out what caused Dreams amnesia and if it was reversible was the most coherent and clear plan they’ve had since they had picked Dream up from the prison.

But it wasn’t the interruption to his planning that caused the confusion.

He knew that Tommy informed the former SMP members of Dreams reappearance, but as far as he knew, Tommy hadn’t told anyone where he had seen Dream, or that Dream was with him and Phil. Well, he wasn’t too surprised about the speed with which Punz had found out that Dream was with them. Although he hadn’t mentioned it in his messages, Techno didn’t doubt that the mercenary was already well aware of it.

No, his surprise actually stemmed from the fact that it was Punz. He was one of the last people he had expected to reach out to them about Dream. Barely anyone had even heard from him in those past years, the only mentions of him surfaced through Purpled who apparently was still in contact with him through Hypixel.

He didn’t expect Punz to still be interested in Dream at all. Although they had been partners at one point, Punz had betrayed Dream for Tommy and the server. He was part of the reason why Dream was thrown in the prison. What did he want now? What business could he probably still have with Dream?

Techno was unsure what to think of it. The offer of information was tempting, but he didn’t know what the information could possibly entail. Would it even be of any use for him? And more importantly, could he even trust Punz?

Suddenly, as if Punz heard his doubts, a new message pings.

Punz: I’m on Dreams side.

Punz: ask him or check our messages for proof.

***

Dream: I’m not sorry.

Dream: I’m not sorry for what I did.

There it sits. The answer he has been waiting for. Dream wasn’t sorry, even after all the punishment he had endured. But then why? What was the reason? It takes some time for him before he continues scrolling, questions boiling in his mind and unease crawling under his skin. He doesn’t know if he wants to read further, but this is it. This is all the explanation he is ever getting from Dream. The old Dream, the Dream he remembers. He takes a breath. And continues.

Dream: I failed my duty as an admin, and I failed my duty as a friend.

Dream: I allowed chaos to take over the server because I didn’t take my duties seriously enough.

Dream: Everything I did afterwards was to correct that misstep.

Dream: You may believe it was too harsh, but everything only happened because I wasn’t strict enough from the beginning. So I had to correct that.

Dream: In the beginning, when I made the server, I wanted it to be a home. I wanted it to be a nice place for the people that were my family. I didn’t want it to be a kingdom, a rulership.

Dream: I know now that this thinking was naïve.

Dream: I could have spared a lot of tragedy, had I not been so lenient with my duties.

This…. Tommy doesn’t quite know what to make of this. He wishes he could just get clear, straight answers. But this? This is confusing him, why did Dream always have to be so cryptic about everything. What does he mean he wasn’t “strict” enough. He was plenty strict, always a damn party pooper yelling about his rules and shit. So what if Tommy grieved and robbed a little? It was no big deal, all of them had supplies for days. It’s not like Tommy really did any bad damage or anything. He was just a kid playing around, pranking them a little. And still Dream had to be an ass about it. He didn’t really let Tommy get away with stuff, not after the first time he had banned him and then unbanned him again. So what does he mean more strict?

Let him stay banned? Bullshit, without Tommy a bunch of people would have never even joined the server. It would have stayed just a measly little troupe of dreams ragtag group of friends. The server would have never become as popular without Tommy. Wilbur literally only joined for Tommy, and-

Wilbur. If Tommy had stayed banned, Wilbur would have never joined, and they would have never been able to found L’manburg. Of course Dream would think that that would be the cure to all his problems, getting rid of L’Manburg. Wishing it never existed just so he could stay in his happy little dictator kingdom.

Except… Back then, in the very beginning, he hadn’t really been …. A dictator. Not even really strict, aside from his dumb little rules. “no griefing” blablabla “no going to the end” blablabla. As if anyone even knew what the fucking end was back then. And as if it wasn’t hard enough to get there at all. Who would even want to go there? For what, hanging out with a bunch of enderman in the void? Ranboo was more than enough Enderman for a life time, thank you very much. Fight a huge fucking dragon? Not everyone was a fucking idiot.

But aside from that he had been quite laid back. Barely anyone had even worn armour back then. There wasn’t really a need, before the wars. That was still his own fault though, if he had just let them make their little country, they would not have needed to fight about it. What was he so pissy about anyways, the server was huge, he could have just let them have their little place.

(But was it really about the space? Or was it about the brewing stands and all the ingredients you stole? About your and Wilbur’s drug empire in the little van? About you breaking the rules and then refusing punishment? Come on Tommy, be honest…)

A little voice sounds in the back of his mind, and the way it speaks, so detached and neutral, was unnervingly alike to his therapist. Although, the voice itself was nothing like it. It was hard to say who the voice resembled, it didn’t just sound like his own, like his thoughts usually are. It wasn’t just one person either. It was like flickers of other voices, that meshed and blended into one. He could hear Phil, and Techno and Wilbur, but also Tubbo and Ranboo and Puffy and Sam and Quackity and so many more. It was confusing.

Worst of all, he could hear Dream. It took so long to get rid of the fear of him, to stop seeing the painted smile on every white surface. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like what was happening. Everyone else was already on Dreams side, he didn’t need his own mind to betray him as well.

(That’s not true, though. The others didn’t pick Dream over you, they just don’t care about him anymore. They want to move on from the situation, they’re tired of it. They wish you’d do the same…)

The voice whispers, and Tommy harshly shakes his head to get rid of it. He scrolls down his communicator, and continues reading.

Dream: It’s unfair. Where does my punishment end? Where does it start?

Dream: You broke the rules, you stole land that was free for everyone, you divided the server and ripped  my family apart. You painted me a villain when I tried to stop you.

Dream: You provoked a fight and then punished me for taking the invitation.

Dream: You took everything from me

Dream: And then you imprisoned me

Dream: why is it that only I am punished?

Dream: why is it that I have to bear the weight of everyone’s faults?

…

Dream: In the end, here I am. Left alone in the server. I don’t know if everyone just left, or if something happened. All I know is that I’m imprisoned in this vault forever.

Dream: The system doesn’t let me die by my own hands, and an escape is impossible.

Dream: I would say this is the end for me

Dream: But there is none

Dream died from starvation.

A death message cuts off the stream of messages, and it repeats multiple times, no further messages of Dream visible for now. Tommy sinks back into the stone wall behind him. He is unsure what to think of all of this. He doesn’t like it.

Dreams messages made the situation seem completely different than it had been. They erased everything he had done, and just made it seem like it was “necessary”. Like he hadn’t wanted to do them, like he just had to, as if it was just a chore. They didn’t explain anything, they just made Dream out to be a victim. Like Dream had never meant to start a war, like he never wanted any of it to happen.

But that didn’t make sense. He had opposed L’Manburg, he had proposed the war if they didn’t stop. If he truly didn’t want war and all the bloodshed and conflict, why didn’t he just grant them L’Manburg? He started it, if he just let them do their own thing, none of this would have ever happened.

(Is that really what happened though? Was L’Manburg really the beginning of the conflict? What did truly happen, back then? How was L’Manburg truly founded?)

The voice pipes up again, and this time Tommy doesn’t shake it off. What does it mean? Of course L’Manburg was the beginning of the wars. Dream had refused to allow them their freedom and independence and declared war. Tommy still remembered fondly how they came up with L’Manburg. It had been on a sunny day on the lawn outside the “drug van”, the somewhat shabby old vehicle they had repurposed into a little potion lab. They had just come back from a supply trip, although it mostly consisted of swiping the stuff from other members of the server who were frequent nether travellers and had amassed quite a bunch of resources.

It wasn’t like they needed them when Tommy and Wilbur would be the ones to make the potions. They had successfully grabbed every potion stand they could access, and were already in preparation to start brewing. If someone needed potions, they could just get them from them, maybe they’d even get a discount for their… “collaboration”. They were having a genuinely good time, and Tommy had been so happy to finally spend time with someone he thought of as an older brother.

Of course, Dream had to ruin the mood. He showed up all huffy and annoyed with his stupid green hoodie and his stupid mask. Bitching about his rules and them “stealing” them. It wasn’t even that serious, who got so mad over some stupid spider eyes and melons? Sure, some stuff wasn’t as easy to get, like ghast tears and nether warts and blaze rods, but weren’t all of Dreams little friends sooooo skilled and capable? They could just grind and have them back within a few days. No big deal. Besides, they could just get their potions here, they wouldn’t even have to go through the annoying process of having to brew them. They were doing them a favour, really!

But of course, Dream wouldn’t get it. Blubbering on and on about rules and how they had to return the stuff and how they couldn’t do that and blah blah blah. Fucking annoying. So they just…. told him to get off their property. Called it their little kingdom, named it L’Manburg, and told him to shove it. He couldn’t do shit if they were their own nation. Of course Dream hadn’t liked it, and he had left all puffed up, saying this wasn’t the end of it. It had just been a spur of the moment back then, but in the rush Wilbur had realized that it wasn’t a bad idea. If they were their own nation, they wouldn’t have to give a shit about Dreams stupid rules.

So they made L’Manburg. And people apparently agreed with their vision, because they had a group together just a few days later. They would finally be able to live freely, build their own homes, without the influence of Dream. They would be free.

(You were always free to build a home wherever you wanted. Just like everyone else. However, you were not free to infringe on the others freedom. You stole, you vandalized, and you grieved. It was never about your freedom, but about you breaking the rules and trying to escape the consequences of your own actions. It was about you dividing the people. You knew that Dream was not being unreasonable back then, but you still pulled others to your side just to get out of your punishment. Just to get your own way.

Wilbur lied to them, and you knew it. He called Dream a tyrant and you gladly parroted it back. He called Dream a villain and you announced it from the rooftops. It was all fun back then, when he just had the labels attached to him. It was not as fun when he started acting like them, was it?)

What? That wasn’t true, not at all! He just wanted to be free! He just wanted to have fun! He was just a kid back then. He was not at fault for Dream going crazy, Dream was the one that was so obsessed with control. Dream manipulated him and caused all the evil. Why was the voice in his head victim blaming him? Dream had been the adult, a grown man, he should have known better.

(Why do you insist so much on him being an adult? He was 20 when the conflicts started. He’s not really much older than you, you know? Why do you expect him to be so much more mature and capable, when you as a 16 year old were apparently equal to a toddler?)

A toddler? He never said that! But maybe, if Dream wasn’t capable of acting like an adult, maybe he shouldn’t have made a server then! An admin has a responsibility, and if he wasn’t able to act like it, clearly he shouldn’t have become one.

(Good Point, Tommy. He was indeed the admin. So why does he have to compromise his rules for an outsider, a “child” as you put it, that he had granted a home in his generosity? His rules were fair and easy to follow. Isn’t it more reasonable to expect the guest to follow them? Instead of causing mischief and unrest simply for their own entertainment?)

‘That’s not fair! You keep twisting the story to make me look bad! I was just a child! It doesn’t matter what I did, he was wrong to treat me like that. He shouldn’t have done it! He just hated me and made my life hell because I wouldn’t let him control me like everyone else!”

(You keep coming back to your age. Tommy, do you believe that the title of “minor” is a magic ‘get out of jail free’ card? Sure, the title does indicate that you’re not yet to be put on the same level as an adult, and it does give you leeway in how you act. But rules still apply to you, and being a minor doesn’t make you untouchable, Tommy)

“I- I never said that!” he stammers aloud, caught by surprise at the call out.  “I didn’t follow the rules because they were stupid! But he still shouldn’t have done it! I didn’t even do anything bad, I was just having a little fun!”

(So you acknowledge that you broke the rules knowingly, just for fun. Then why do you insist on blaming Dream for enforcing them and punishing you? What makes you think you’re above the rules, and unpunishable? Just your age? Then what about the other minors who followed them just fine? What about Tubbo?”

“Leave Tubbo out of this!” Tommy replies, louder this time, as the anger in him is rising “Following the rules didn’t help him at all, Dream still went after him!”

(But wasn’t that because of you, Tommy? You brought Tubbo into the revolution, you made him part of your plans, you agreed to make him a spy for Pogtopia and you let him get killed for it. You valued the discs over him, you painted a target on his back, you almost let him get killed by Dream. You broke the peace treaty, and gave Tubbo no choice but to exile you-)

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Tommy screams, and the voice falls blessedly quiet. He pants, his heart racing and his legs shaking under his weight. When did he get up from his spot by the window? He doesn’t remember. ‘Fuck!’ he thinks, and sinks his hands into his hair, gripping the curls tightly as he screams in frustration.

He can’t do this. Fuck everything, Fuck Dream, it wasn’t Tommy’s fault, it wasn’t. Dream was the bad guy. Dream was the bad guy. It was all his fault, all his. He hates Dream, he hates him he hates him he HATES HIM HE HATES HIM HE HATES HIM-

“What a shame.” The voice says, and suddenly it is not just in Tommy’s head anymore. He freezes, as the voice reverberates through the silent church. A chill rushes through him, and he whips around, to where the voice is coming from behind him.

A tall, impossibly tall figure stands, or more likely floats, right behind the altar. The candles he lit have been extinguished, and their wisps of smoke trail upwards, curling around the hem of the figures robes. And even though Tommy has never met the being in person, he immediately understands that who he is facing is a deity. More importantly, the prime god themselves.

The god is towering, close to the ceiling even with the tall walls and high rooftops of the church. They are dressed in pristine white and green robes that never seem to stop moving. Tommy is unable to tell where the body begins and where it starts, he is not even sure the deity has one, with the way the robes seem to flow unobstructed. The head of the deity is round, smooth and white, like the marble and stone the church is built of. It floats unattached above the robes, decorated with twin halos crossing in front of it.

The figure starts to glow, as impossibly more smoke rises from the candles and spirals around it. The deity leans down, bringing their arms up for the wide sleeves to hide the head.

When they come back down, the deity has changed forms into a more human appearance. Limbs are visible, and the light of the stained glass windows catches on gold and emeralds adorning them. The twin halos remain, and the face is hidden by a dark green hood.

A glowing green mouth appears in the darkness of the hood, and a voice that sounds like a choir of every voice Tommy has ever heard speaks.

“What a shame that my most loyal and devout follower is also the one who hates my creation the most.”

The hood falls, and for the second time in as many days, Tommy looks into the face that had haunted him for the past 13 years.

***

“How didn’t we think of this, Phil? It’s so simple.” Techno huffs “His communicator. It’s been almost a full year, and yet we never checked it?”

The device is lying on the table between them, restarting after going into standby mode when they had taken it off during that first day where they had patched Dream up. It’s not like they had taken it from him for specific reasons. It was more to be able to clean and dress up all his wounds. And after that he hadn’t needed it for a while, and then they just… forgot. It was just sitting in the nightstand next to Dreams bed. Dream didn’t leave the server, and he was never really alone.

They had simply forgot.

The communicator came back to live with a little beep, and the screen started to glow again. For a moment, they just let it sit there. Almost hesitant suddenly, Techno reached out for the device. A communicator was something pretty private usually. It wasn’t often that there was a need to share the contents of the device with someone else. What would they find? How many messages had piled up over the years? Who reached out to him? Who didn’t?

It felt wrong, somewhat, to be the ones to do this. It was something Dream should be able to do. But Dream was nonresponsive again, and he didn’t remember any of these people anyways. The… old Dream, the “real” Dream should be the one to see the messages. And yet here they were.

What they find is… not unexpected. Mostly because they have absolutely no idea what to expect. It’s been 13 years after all, even longer if you calculated in the original prison time. Instead, what they find is disappointing. There should have been some unread messages piled up, surely.

But there are… none. Aside from Punz chat that is. There are a few sitting on there, but aside from that, there are no other notifications. If not for those, they would have thought that the device might need to be restarted, or refreshed or something.

They are confused. Did truly no one try to reach out to Dream? In almost 15 years? How? No one? Not even his old friends? Or rather, former friends? Techno could have sworn that at least George or Sapnap would have tried to reach out. It’s not what they checked the communicator for, but he can’t help but check the chats between the original Dreamteam. But… they’re not muted either. It had truly been radio silence, even before Dream had gotten imprisoned.

A weird feeling rises in Techno at that. He hadn’t been a fan of the prison, for obvious reasons, but he knew that it had been decided as punishment for Dreams transgressions. He thought that it had went too far, and that people had overreacted quite a bit. But he hadn’t thought that people apparently hated Dream so much that they didn’t so much as blink at the notion of him vanishing off the face of the earth. He thought that at the very least his old friends would have still cared about him, even if only for old memories sake.

But seeing the quiet, abandoned chats he wonders how Dream had coped with that. It wasn’t a secret that Dream… was a pretty social person, at least before he had went on his little “villain” spree. He had quite a few friends he had been rather close with, and he had enjoyed being with and around people. He shakes his head, trying to push the thought away.

He scrolls back up to the top, where Punz’s chat sits, a badge displaying the number of missed messages. It automatically directs him to the begin, and under the last messages that Dream sent, Punz’s messages appear.

Dream: alright, see you on the other side

Dream: meetup at the usual spot, usual time

…

Punz: where are you?

Punz: you’re late. Did the plan change?

…

Punz: I’m going to get you out of there.

…

Punz: the server is fucked, had to leave

Punz: hope you made it out safe

…

Punz: if you need a place to stay, find me on hypixel

Punz: I hope you’re okay

…

Punz: nobody has seen you in ages

Punz: if your communicator wasn’t still active, I’d probably think you’re dead

…

Punz: I know something is wrong

Punz: I’m here if you need me

…

Punz: the server opened back up

Punz: I’ll be at the place

…

Punz: I went to the prison

Punz: snooped around Sams old office

Punz: I know what happened

Punz: I’ll find you

Punz: I’ll make it up to you

Techno sighs when he puts the communicator down. It seems he is going to Hypixel soon.

***

“So Dream isn’t even a human?” Tommy’s voice is incredulous. “I always knew there was something off with the green bitch.” He scoffs.

“Well…”  XD muses “Dream hasn’t always been a human, but in this current form, he is as much human as most of the other people on the server had been. Remember the hybrids and mob related people? Or the ones with special abilities?” The deity questions.

“I guess…” Tommy sulks. “That doesn’t mean I forgive him though.”

“You don’t have to” XD replies simply, and Tommy stills.

“Wait what?” he stutters. “Why did you do the whole… fucking… mind-voice bullshit thing then?”

“You sought answers for what troubled your soul. As your god, I simply wished to help you find them within the contents of your mind” The god replies simply, as if Tommy had asked about the weather instead. He feels a bit shocked at the nonchalance, but he refuses to show it. Instead, he sulks a little more.

“Yeah, well you were being a real dick about it.”

“Apologies, I’m not very familiar with the way the players interact”

It’s a little weird to talk so familiar with the God. It’s not like Tommy is usually putting extra effort into his word choice or avoids profanity when he prays. He believed that God deserved to be worshipped with every part of him, not just a clean scrubbed pretend version. But somehow it felt a little weird to not be polite when faced with a god. When the god actually replied to his quips.

It was also the calmness with that the god spoke that threw Tommy off. Considering the deities entrance, he had been quite shocked to find the god to be so… mellow and apathetic almost. The prime god was so detached, so blasé in the manners of speech. The god wasn’t at all as imposing and scary as Tommy expected when he turned around and found God staring at him. It mellowed Tommy out as well. Somehow, the anger that had been boiling in him ever since he found Dream again calmed, and left just the insecurity and confusion behind.

“I guess. I’m… I still haven’t found my answers though. I’m still so confused. Can’t you just… tell me? Without being so cryptic about it?” he asks, looking up at the god next to him.

“You know that I’m not Dream though, although he had been part of me, once.” XD replies, and although the voice is spoken in the same calm, composed cadence, Tommy swears there is a tint of sorrow in the words. “All I can tell you is what I saw. It’s for you to make your own conclusions out of it.”

“But… in my head you said all those things, how was that not you giving me answers?” Tommy asks confusedly.

“I just took the thoughts that were already there, buried deep down in your mind, and added what I knew. You’re torn and afraid to let go of what you know. I thought that providing a mirror might help you confront that fear.” The deity pauses “clearly that didn’t work the way I intended”

“Yeah, you were a proper bitch about it.” Tommy mutters. “and fuckin’ scary as well. But…” he stops, letting his gaze wander the church, before it falls on the communicator on his wrist. “You’re the only one I’ve got to help me figure this out. Dream has apparently lost his memory, and all his old allies and … friends” he stumbles over the word “rather pretend he doesn’t exist than talk about him. Techno does not know shit about what went on, and Phil showed up way too late. Will was… gone for a long time as well.” He sighs. “So you’re my only shot at explaining things, aside from having to figure this out on my own… So… help me?” and after a moment of thinking he adds, “Without the spooky bullshit please?”

***

“Do you have everything you need?”

Techno huffs, pointedly avoiding the other man leaning in the doorway. Of course he has everything he needs, it’s not like a trip to Hypixel calls for extraordinary preparations, especially since he isn’t even planning on staying there for an extended amount of time, or even planning to compete there. He’s just going for a quick chat with an old … acquaintance. It’s not even a full days trip, there is no need to fuss.

Although, he realizes, Phil isn’t the one fussing. Techno knows that he has everything he needs, and yet he has been stalling his departure for the past 30 minutes.

“Are you sure that you’re gonna be fine?” he retorts instead, finally turning around to face his friend. The relaxed expression on Phil’s face falls and the slightly teasing lilt of his smile curves down, before he smooths his face into carefully crafted expression of optimism.

“Of course, mate. It’s just one day-“

“A few hours” Techno interrupts.

“-a few hours until you’re back. It’s gonna be fine. Dream will be fine.” The truth is, although he says it, Dream hasn’t exactly been fine. To their pleasant surprise, his complete catatonic state had barely lasted a day, before he had regained awareness. Much less pleasant had been his state since then.

Although he was awake and aware, he was withdrawn, completely quiet and apathetic. He didn’t react to any attempt at communication or to leave his room, instead opting to sit quietly in his bed. He barely ate and spend most of his time sleeping, or buried under his blanket in a corner of the room, wedged between the wall and a chest. To be fair, it hadn’t even been three days since he woke back up, so Phil was positive he wouldn’t stay like this forever. Soon enough, he’d brighten back up and things could go back to how they used to be.

It was just worrying. Dream hadn’t been like this, ever. They were used to his catatonic state, but when he was aware, he had been curious, open and eager to learn, despite his initial wariness.

Now he just seemed tired, exhausted even, and sad. He shied away from them, and withdrew into a shell where they were unable to follow. And they couldn’t even figure out why.

Techno didn’t like the idea of leaving while Dream was in a state like this. But he knew that he needed to meet Punz if he wanted more information. He also knew that he would have to go to the old server to find XD soon.

It was clear that whatever they had been doing had not been enough.

They needed real answers.

***

“I think the problem lies within the way you perceive things, Tommy, especially in regards to Dream. Your mind is too idealistic and naïve in a way, even now. You see things too black and white, Dream as the villain, and yourself as the hero.”

…

“You cannot expect to find a satisfying answer to your questions if you truly believe that all the blame lies within Dream. If you perceive all his actions to be either outright malicious or at least motivated by evil intentions, they won’t make sense and they won’t quell your confusion.”

…

“You’re so focused on the past because it was the time you had been happiest, despite all the bad things that happened as well. You felt loved and appreciated, especially when everyone stood behind you against Dream. You were, and still are scared that if they stop hating Dream, they will stop loving you.”

…

“You’re desperate to find something that reassures you that you weren’t the reason, the cause for Dream’s actions, that you were just a victim. That he had always been like that, it was just a question of time for it to come out. That if it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.”

…

“You see him as this overwhelming, unbeatable and evil villain. But that is not who he used to be, and it is not something he was destined to become. It’s what your conflict made him. He used to be just Dream, someone who wanted to build a home and have fun with his friends. Just like you were just Tommy, looking for a home and friends and some fun.”

***

When Punz shows up, perfectly punctual at 10 am on the roof top they had set as their meet up spot, Techno recognizes him immediately, despite more than a decade passing since their last interaction. It’s less the face, and more the signature white hoodie that he still wears, especially in bold combination with the familiar golden necklace.

Techno had always regarded the pure white outfit as a somewhat odd clothing choice in his field of work. Mercenaries are usually hired to do the dirty and often bloody work for people who didn’t want to tarnish their own hands. Or maybe just didn’t have the time for it. In any case, something flashy and easily dirtied was probably not the best uniform for someone meant to stay in the shadows.

However, Punz had kept his signature style over years, and he was wildly successful at his profession. Maybe it was the bold declaration of wearing pure white, almost a dare to try and get him to mess it up, that had helped build up his reputation, or maybe the white was just an attest to his proficiency and skill.

Although, Techno mused, it might also just be a fashion choice. If anyone would understand a somewhat ironic or odd choice of fashion it was probably the anarchist in a monarchists outfit.

“Technoblade” he greets simply with a nod, his face calm and serious. Techno returns the greeting in kind, but doesn’t get to say much else before Punz continues.

“Is he okay?” he blurts out, and now that the other is close, Techno can see the worry lines that crease his face and the dark rings under determined eyes.

“He?” Techno replies, although he knows who Punz means, and yet he can’t help but tread carefully. Punz scoffs. “Cut the bullshit, Technoblade. You know who I’m here for.”

“Well…” Techno hesitates. Was Dream okay? He was alive, at least. And he had been somewhat okay before Tommy had shown up. “as Tommy informed the server, Dream is still alive.”

Punz rolls his eyes at the mention of Tommy, visibly annoyed. “Frankly, I couldn’t give less of a shit about Tommy. I know that Dream is alive. Is he okay? You were rivals, but not enemies, so I’m taking it that you didn’t spend the past year holding him captive or hurting him?” He spits, trying for a calm demeanour, but the agitation in his stance is still very clear to Techno. Or maybe it is just the furrow to his brows that he can’t seem to smooth out, or the way his fingers twitch for a weapon.

Nevertheless, disgust fills Techno at the implications. “Torture is spineless.” He sneers. “Repeatedly and violently harming someone defenceless and incapable of fighting back is honourless.” He breathes, calming the anger that rises with the memories of Quackity’s actions. “No intentional harm has come to Dream. He has been treated with care and healed to the best of our abilities. Although-“ he swallows, before continuing. “Although he currently isn’t quite in a state that I would call ‘okay’, he has been doing as well as is reasonable for someone in his situation.”

“His situation” Punz says bitterly “that is one way to describe it.”

“I take it you’re familiar with the details?” Techno asks, remembering the last messages Punz had sent to Dreams communicator.

“I don’t know the details” Punz replies, face drawn tight in a complicated expression. “But that wasn’t really necessary to understand what happened after going through Sam’s office in the prison.” He spits the name in disgust. “Fuck. I should have never agreed to the prison plan.”

Wait.

“Hold on. What plan? Are you telling me that Dreams imprisonment was planned? Why? He never mentioned it during the 3 months we spent there together” Techno asks, confused and suspicious of this newfound information, but Punz replies without missing a beat.

“Nobody knew of the prison plan aside from me. I had asked Dream to at least tell Sam beforehand, as a failsafe, but Dream had insisted that it had to be real for the plan to succeed. Besides…” he trails off for a moment, looking out at the hustle and bustle of the server hub below them. “Dream had trusted him to be fair and just. He always spoke highly of Sam, convinced of his righteousness.” Punz voice is bitter as he thinks of all the times that Dream had reassured him that Sam had been the perfect choice. The only choice, really. How wrong they had been.

“I always thought that it had been fishy that he got caught and imprisoned so easily, but why would he plan to be put in an inescapable prison at the mercy of someone else? Even restricted of his admin abilities? The prison was horrendous, what possible goal would that even fulfil?” Techno asks incredulous. All of this didn’t make sense, Dream had hated the prison, had desperately wanted out. There was no way he had planned all that.

“Well, the conditions had certainly been worsened from the original plan, but the worst of it should have never happened. Sam took some liberties that he had no right to take.” Punz says. “But the prison had been necessary. The server was splitting apart and nothing that Dream did had been working. Everyone was intent on him being the villain, and anything he did just seemed to underline that belief. He was tired of it.”

Literally. At one point, Dream hadn’t been able to sleep for more than an hour without being shaken awake by nightmares. The servers tensions pulled at the very seams of his beings. He had been a walking wreck, kept alive by potions and golden apples only.

“Dream realized that he would never be able to shed the role that Wilbur had assigned him. Everything he had tried had eventually backfired. So he needed to absolve it in a different way.” He explains further, while Techno quietly takes it in.

“He thought that if he leaned into the accusations, if he became an actual villain, he could achieve what he so desperately wanted. The server finally stops with all the conflicts and reunites against the ‘big bad evil guy’.” Techno wanted to call that plan foolish, shortsighted, wanted to point out how peace like that never lasts. He is reminded of the myths and legends that he is so fond of, and he remembers how Dream had been, just as his name suggested, well… a dreamer. Someone idealistic and surprisingly naïve in some ways, despite his maturity in others.

“Of course he wanted to be part of the ‘big happy family’.” Punz notes, smiling bittersweet. “He wasn’t that selfless to just die for the others to be happy. He knew that it wouldn’t be enough to be defeated in battle. Not for Tommy. Never for Tommy, he was never satisfied, always pushing for more.” Punz face twists, an angry grimace before he smooths it back forcefully.

“Dream knew that punishment wouldn’t be pretty, but he could do his best to at least steer it in a way that ensured his survival. And after that, he thought he would finally free. He could start “new”, as this reformed person. Sure, he knew there would be some people still hating him, but at least they wouldn’t be able to just cause havoc on the premise of “retribution of Dreams wrongs” anymore, since he would have been punished and his “crimes” thus paid off. He wouldn’t be an excuse to fight anymore. He really believed there was a home to come back to.”

He pauses. When he continues, it is in a quiet, almost wistful tone.

“He thought that even being killed a few times and then being stuck in that hellhole for an indefinite time would be better than the server continuing as it was.”

***

“…I don’t know the day or event that set your course, but for Dream it was the day that Wilbur and you unrightfully declared him a tyrant and a villain and people believed you. No matter what he did after that, he was unable to shake that title. All his actions were seen as proof of his maliciousness, even if they were just clumsy attempts at fixing the mess the server had become.

Nothing he did seemed to be working the way he wanted it to. He was too prideful, thinking the issue could be resolved easily since he had the authority, and his rules had been just. The idea of L’Manburg was tempting and desirable to the people, and Dream was seen as the envious, control hungry tyrant. People began to divide, and more and more conflicts arose. He felt justified in escalating his attempts, he felt righteous in his fight, but so did the other side. But soon, there were too many players on the board, too many conflicts and too little trust. He started losing, first his sleep, then his temper, followed by his friends, and eventually himself.

Dream was hurting, he felt helpless and angry, so he lashed out. He had been too scared, too prideful and ashamed of opening up about his worries to his friends, and now they had already left him. He felt as if there was not a single friendship left that he could trust wholeheartedly.

In the midst of all the conflict and chaos, he saw you as the root of all that had occurred. It wasn’t as if you had been personally responsible for every single conflict or as if you were the sole contributor for the war. But you were the embodiment of all his mistakes, fears, and regrets. He blamed you for losing everything he worked and cared for. He felt like everyone had left him for your sake, and he wanted you to feel just as alone as he did, especially after the falling out with his closest friends.…”

***

“So you have been looking for him all this time?” Techno asks into the silence that had fallen around them after Punz had finished his explanation. His words sit heavy in Techno’s gut, and he can’t help but feel the guilt he had become so familiar with rise in his throat.

“I knew something was wrong. Why did you think I kept working as a mercenary? For money? I could’ve retired years ago with the amount that Dream paid me, but even then I’ve had some backups stashed away long before I ever joined the server.” Punz laughs, but it’s not a joyful sound.

“No, I was looking for him. Any job that granted me access to a server I couldn’t enter otherwise, I took. I’ve been hunting for years to find any kind of trace.” He scoffs bitterly. “To think that all this time he had been right there, ready for me to pick up at any moment’s notice.”

“To be fair” Techno muses “The server had been pretty much uninhabitable for years. You wouldn’t really have been able to visit it anyways.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to reassure Punz, but he has a feeling it’s connected to the guilt he feels. He doesn’t want to imagine how Punz feels right now. “And it seems that you followed his directions as closely as you could.”

“I still should have noticed. I should have known that he wouldn’t just go radio silent. He would have never just abandoned the plan without any notice. It wasn’t just you that failed in a promise, Technoblade.” Punz bites harshly, before sighing. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No worries” Technoblade replies, and it really isn’t, surprisingly. Even if the reminder at his broken promise stung, it wasn’t as if Punz had said something that Techno hadn’t been already saying to himself. If at all, he was probably the one person who would understand exactly how he felt. Which also meant that Techno had a pretty good guess on how to proceed.

“Well!” he says, and gets up from his spot. “Time to go.” He relishes in Punz’s confused expression and sputtered questions, but only for a moment. He fixes his cape, and moves to the staircase that had led them to the rooftop. “What are you waiting for?” he calls back over his shoulder. “Isn’t there someone you want to visit?” immediately, he can hear Punz scrambling to get up, and he knows he doesn’t have to explain any further. He smiles and begins to walk down the stairs, Punz falling into step right behind him.

It seems it is time for a reunion.

***

“…It might ease your mind that Tubbo had never been at risk of dying at the final Disk confrontation, as much as it looked like it. The Dream that you saw there was entirely an act, derived to play as the villain everyone thought him to be. The villain he had been dangerously close to actually become. The hide out filled with attachments was nothing but a show either.

Dream had expected to be killed at least once, willing to lose canon lives for his punishment to be just in the eyes of the server. But he had planned to be thrown into the prison, had the high security cell built and designed specifically for this. He made it crueller than the Warden had thought necessary, adding restrictions and difficulties against his recommendation. It hadn’t been for you, Tommy, even if many people thought that. It had been for him. “

***

Everything feels wrong. It’s like his skin doesn’t fit him, like it’s a size too big, like he can’t fill it. Like he isn’t enough. Ever since Tommy had showed up and had brought Wilbur in tow, he feels strange. He hadn’t understood much of what they had said, too overwhelmed with the situation. His inner guide had been going crazy but it hadn’t protected him this time. He had to sit in the corner of the room and feel their voices wash over him, incomprehensible to him and yet so frightening. He felt their words scratch at him, felt them catch on his skin and pull. Pull, pull and pull until he was all wrong. He was the wrong shape, he didn’t fit here. This wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

It was so different with the cell. Not a single time had he doubted his place there, the opposite even, he had always known that it had been made for him. But this place wasn’t, and he wonders how it had taken him so long to understand. At least, now that he has learned, he wont ever forget.

Forget.

Forget? He forgot a lot. He didn’t remember, but that was good. Was it? It was. Mercy. Yes, it was mercy. Kindness, for him. He didn’t want to remember, it hurt, it would hurt, he knew. He would rather be empty, rather be less and not enough for his skin than to be filled with pain.

But they wanted him to. They wanted him to remember, he knew. He could see it in Techno’s eyes. They got so hopeful and so sad. But he didn’t want to. He had tried to tell him, he had tried so hard, had even spoken, had written in the book, just for him to understand. But of course, that had been when the darkness had come to step in.

He doesn’t know if Techno had understood, but he hasn’t talked about remembering since, and he really didn’t want to bring it up. He didn’t want to speak at all, actually he didn’t want anything. He didn’t want to have soup and he didn’t want bread either. He didn’t want to sit in the chairs that belonged to someone else, and he didn’t want to be where he didn’t fit. He just wanted to forget, forget everything and float again. Just darkness, no more memories. No thinking, no feeling afraid and wrong.

He has no energy. His limbs feel as heavy as they had when he had been in the cell still. Moving feels like an impossible task, and his head is so loud when it isn’t silent. It’s all wrong, and his hand is bandaged where it lies in his lap. It hurts when he balls it up and the white bandages get all red. He doesn’t like the hurt, it keeps him here when he wants nothing more than to float away. But every time he concentrates on the cell with all his might until he reaches that floaty darkness again, he can’t help it. It’s like something is wrong, and so much is wrong but this is different. The cell is all wrong, something is missing. It’s not right and he needs to… he needs to…. And then the pain slams him back into the room and the bandages are red, red, red and he is still here and everything is still wrong.

***

“…That’s it. What this means for you is entirely in your hand. I cannot tell you what to do with this knowledge, but I hope it will help you to finally find the answers that you seek.

There is just one thing that I ask of you.”

***

They’re on the doorstep of Techno’s and Phil’s home, when it occurs Techno that he should probably warn him about Dreams state. Maybe explain a little further. He hasn’t really gone into any detail aside from the fact that Dream isn’t in top condition right now.

With the hand on the doorknob, he turns around to Punz.

“Uh…” he says, eloquently. “You should probably know that Dream might not remember you. He’s kind of… amnesiac.” And then he opens the door and steps in before Punz even gets the chance to react. He prepares to call out for Phil, but in a lucky accident, the other one is just passing the entryway with a little tray of mugs.

“Techno!” Phil calls surprised, clearly not expecting the other back so early. “I see you brought a guest?” He asks when his eyes fall on Punz once Techno passed the entrance.

“Yeah” Techno replies shortly before stepping aside to put away his coat, leaving Phil to greet Punz. “I take it things went well and you’re here to see Dream?” he asks with a friendly smile, and Punz relaxes slightly. “Yeah, I think so? How is he? Where is he?” he asks in reply, not really having a coat or something similar to take off and put away.

“He’s in his room. I was just going to bring him some Soup” Phil answers easily, and gestures to the tray with his chin. “Why don’t you come with me?” he offers and turns to lead the way when Punz agrees. Techno hadn’t given him any indication that Punz was a threat, so he didn’t worry about taking him to meet Dream. It’s not far to Dreams room, but before he gets to leave the entryway, Punz speaks up.

“Techno said that Dream…. Is amnesiac?” his voice is a little hesitant, worry laced through every word. Phil sighs slightly, but his eyes are as reassuring and kind as his smile. “Yes, that is what we think. He doesn’t seem to remember anything, aside from a somewhat…. Instinctual response? We’re not exactly sure about the state of his memory loss, if it’s permanent or not. But we’re working on it.”

“I see” Punz replies, thoughtfully. “Anything else that I should be aware of?”

“He doesn’t really speak.” Phil explains. “Sometimes he uses sign language to communicate, and he says words sometimes, but not quite in conversations. He doesn’t write in books either.”

“Have you tried his communicator?” Punz asks, and Phil declines. “We had honestly forgotten about it, only remembered when your message came through.” He confesses. “We would have tried it out by now, but he hasn’t been doing too well since Tommy’s surprise visit.”

“How so?”

“He is… distressed, obviously. Although he didn’t really recognize Tommy, it was clear that he was uncomfortable and he had somewhat of a panic attack. He’s been pretty withdrawn and skittish since then, so try not to push him if he doesn’t react to you the way you expected it.” Phil explains further. “Oh, and try to avoid speaking in imperative form. He doesn’t react well to orders and such.” He adds on after a little pause. “That should be it, for now. Ready?” he asks, and motions to the hallway, just as Techno joins them again.

Punz nods, and together, they make their way to Dreams room.

***

“Leave Dream be. Unless he intentionally seeks you out to harm you, do not go out of your way to find him. Do not search for him, do not hunt him down. You have many more lives to enjoy as a player. Allow him to live his last one.”


 (Toothless)

Such a lively little creature; little eyes, little feet… little wings; so tiny and fragile, and yet, that little feathered creature, curiously pecking his snout, was still able to fly by itself, just as he once could, before his tail had been maimed. And fly the little bird did, when Toothless huffed with an annoyed pout. His eyes had begun to hurt from keeping them crossed too long in the attempt to watch the small animal nervously explore the spaces between his muzzle-scales for food.

He could not help feeling a faint, perhaps unfair touch of spite towards the innocent bird, as it fluttered hastily into the thick foliage of the forest. But what did it matter? Life had not been fair with him either. He had been too young when he had gotten himself captured by the queen’s spell, just on the verge of his sixth mating season. Even the mind of a mighty Night Fury was not able to fight against her vile will at that age, and perhaps at any age; Toothless was not planning to have that assumption ever tested. He still felt just as young, though his body had grown since the day of his enslavement.

Years had probably gone by, while his mind was being kept captive in that horrible semi-conscious state, to obey the queen’s bidding, to satisfy her insatiable hunger, to damage, degrade, and ultimately corrupt his own pride. How many years? He’d rather never find out. So, Toothless had stoically accepted his physical growth, relegating the unclear memory of his lost time to the depths of his consciousness, determined not to think about it. Accepting the loss of his flight had been a much harder struggle, and, in a sense, it still was.

He did not hate Hiccup for it. He could not hate Hiccup for it. Although the boy had never openly apologized for being the one who had shot him down that night, Toothless was already aware of his rider’s feelings on the matter.

The little human had eventually spared his life the next morning, when Toothless had woken up, free from one type of bondage, immediately into another, and a tailfin poorer. So, no, he could not hate Hiccup, even though he had truly wanted to at first. After everything the boy had done to help him fly again, hatred was unattainable. That little boy with curious lonely eyes, that gangly biped who had shown him how humans smiled, was likely the last creature in the world he could have hated. There were some moments, though, such as this day, when Toothless felt rather… irked.

Whenever Hiccup was not around, or at least within the reach of his sense of smell, Toothless would lose the only means he had to fend off that suffocating feeling of having fallen back into bondage, hideously tied to the earth like any other inferior rat, or squirrel, or boar, or… even as any human. He sometimes wondered how creatures as intelligent as humans could manage to stay sane without flying. How could their minds accept such a hideous fate so easily?

It was not important, as long as Hiccup stayed with him. When Hiccup was by his side, even when they were not up in the air, Toothless felt whole again, as if his tailfin had never been lost.

Hiccup, however, had recently decided to work in a foreign village, hoping to obtain some hunting weapon.

A pointless waste of time.

Now that they had fled from Berk, Toothless would always be there for Hiccup, so why did the boy keep trying so hard? He had nothing to prove to anyone any longer.

Regardless, try as he might not to resent waiting for his rider, Toothless could not bear to be parted from him for even a single wingbeat, and the fact that Hiccup was his only means of flight was not the only motive, though it was surely a more-than-reasonable source of anxiety. The soft sounds of the forest, and even the stray rays of sunlight, breaking through the leaves and warming his scales, did little to soothe his nerves.

It was still rather early, a short while before midday, when strange noises began disturbing his uneasy slumber. Distant human voices among the trees, cries and yells of running people getting closer.

Toothless rose worriedly. Had he been spotted? Should he need to hide? Before he could make a decision, the breeze carried a mixture of scents to his nostrils. In that mixture, there were some familiar smells, one of which belonged to his own rider.

The situation became immediately clear. Hiccup was being chased by a group of undoubtedly ill-intentioned humans, and some of their scents Toothless could remember from Berk itself.

Toothless required no further thought. His only means of flight was in peril. His little human friend needed help.

Again.

Toothless tracked the source of the sounds in the forest. It was not long before he could see the running boy, and, just a few wingspans further, a group of Vikings, hard on Hiccup’s heels, some of their weapons dangerously unsheathed. Even Hiccup was carrying something, though it looked much less menacing. Was that the new weapon for which he had been working? It did not look particularly powerful. It was just a thin stick, with a rope coiled to one end.

Toothless half-roared to help his rider spot him, then prepared for Hiccup to climb on his back.

“Toothless! We’re leaving!” The panting boy cried, sweat dripping from his forehead.

“There’s the Night Fury!” A strong woman bellowed.

“Don’t let them fly!” Shouted another man, whose voice Toothless had heard before. It was Hiccup’s uncle, the one who was in the arena when they had escaped from Berk. His name, Toothless recalled, was Spitelout.

When Hiccup reached him, he hastily mounted on his back, and, as soon as the breathless boy sat upon him, Toothless bolted in the opposite direction.

In the meantime, the Vikings chasing them got much closer, but Toothless could not fly yet. The forest was so thick with trees that no average dragon could extend their wings. So, Toothless hurried towards the clearing where they used to land in the mornings, each time they got on Balheim. It was very close, but so were their pursuers.

Toothless was faster, of course, but before he could gain some distance, another man roared: “I’ve got this!”

“Toothless! Watch out!” Hiccup yelled, looking back.

Without slowing down, Toothless turned his head to see an axe flying straight in their direction. In that breakneck situation, he could not run the risk of throwing his rider off his back, as the boy was not yet fully settled into the stirrups, so Toothless decided not to dodge. Instead, he hastily sucked in some air, mixed it with gas inside his throat, and shot a small blue fireball at the twirling weapon. His aim was as good as ever, and the shot stopped the axe, but part of the blue ball of flames continued towards their attacker, and exploded onto his shield, making the man stumble and fall in a cloud of splinters and smoke. Unfortunately, the man looked relatively unhurt, but there had been no time to charge a more powerful shot.

It was the brawny woman’s turn to shout: “Allow me!”

Toothless did not wait for Hiccup to warn him this time, and as soon as he heard her voice, he sidestepped beside a tree, keeping his pace. He nonetheless looked back to see the result of his evasion.

“Shit!” The woman exclaimed at her failure, still running after them.

Something was off, however. Toothless did manage to dodge the flying weapon, but the axe had not seemed aimed at Hiccup. It appeared to be aimed at his own back instead, perhaps only at his tail. This was rather odd. In fact, the previous man had also seemed to aim at the tip of Toothless’ tail, perhaps where the prosthetic fin was fastened.

Could that have been a coincidence? Were they not trying to kill them? They could have aimed at Hiccup, or at some of Toothless’ more vital parts. Sure, they could have killed them after managing to keep them on the ground, but, given the situation, Hiccup’s back or even a wing were much easier targets.

Are they only trying to stop him from flying away? Toothless wondered as he ran. Maybe they were not actually trying to kill his rider, but why only aim towards the tail? Were they trying to keep him alive too? Perhaps he was just overthinking this, but he still found it curious. So, though he did gain some distance, Toothless did not increase his speed, hoping for further clues.

Promptly, Hiccup began shouting from his back: “Toothless, faster! They’ll gain on us again! Why aren’t you-” Before the boy could finish his sentence, they had reached the wide grassy clearing.

Toothless kept running forward, until he made sure that all their pursuers had emerged from the treeline. Then, he took to the sky with a powerful jump, much to Hiccup’s relief.

Spitelout bellowed a loud “Fuck!”, tossing his horned helmet on the ground, panting.

Toothless flapped his wings to rise higher, but he didn’t leave the area. They had reached a safe distance now, yet his acute ears could still pick up on the voices of the Vikings below. He wanted to hear what they were saying, ignoring Hiccup’s tired tugs at the saddle.

“Toothless! Let’s leave!” His rider squealed breathlessly from his back, but Toothless yowled for the human to wait. He kept circling the clearing from up high, with his ear-plates trained towards the earth, listening at the crew of bickering humans.

“Damn Night Fury broke my shield!” Said the first man who had attacked them.

“When did Stoick's runt become so fast?!" A second man exclaimed, gasping for air. He had been slower than the others.

“Maybe we should’ve told 'im about yer little deal before he started runnin'. Eh, Spitelout?”

"You idiot!” Spitelout spat back. “We need to hold the Night Fury first! Otherwise what makes ya think he'll cooperate?!”

The first man, who was removing wood splinters from his forearm, decided to intervene: “At least we should have told ‘im his exile is for just two years. He might have gotten distracted if we did, then we could have caught 'im better, and lured the Night Fury later."

“Are you soft in the head too?!” Spitelout shouted again. “What makes ya think he'd have stopped to listen when ya were chasing him with yer axe in hand?! Who told ya to take out yer axe?! And what if ya had hit him?”

“I was aiming for the tail-thing!” The first man replied defensively. “And we’re up against the Night Fury. We didn’t know when it was goin’ to turn up! I had to be ready. And who would’ve thought the little shit could run like that anyway?!”

“Jorunn's right,” the second man added. “We all thought we’d have him by one stretch of the hand. Wasn’t he born a cripple or something? This kid could almost win the Thawfest games.”

Spitelout looked exasperated. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, when the burly woman finally decided to speak:

"Well, now he knows we're after him,” she began, both hands clasping her broad hips, “what do we do, Spitelout? He probably thinks we're trying to kill him. He won't stay still for us to catch the Night Fury. How will ya blackmail him without a hostage?” The woman asked, but then continued. “Next time we find him I say you just kill the boy and be done with it. Don’t worry ‘bout me telling Stoick… never really liked the man anyway.”

Jorunn, the man with splinters of broken shield in his forearm, snorted cheekily. “Ya’re just sayin’ that ‘cause he only had eyes for Valk-”

“I won’t soil my hands with blood of my blood, Brunhilda!” Spitelout spat angrily again, interrupting Jorunn’s teasing remark.

“Tch!” The woman named Brunhilda scoffed, twisting her lips with disdain.

“Why aren’t they leaving?” Asked another man, looking up towards them.

“Toothless!” Hiccup hissed in his ear, as if on cue. “Come on! Let’s go!”

The young human’s ears were clearly unable reach the voices below, and he had grown restless, so Toothless decided to finally glide out of his circular trajectory. He flew west, towards their island. As he did so, he heard one last remark from his rider’s uncle.

“I don’t know… keep yer eyes up,” Spitelout said. “But, if what Brunhilda says is true, if he thinks we’re tryin’ to kill ‘im, maybe he'll just fly far away, and stay away for good. But I can’t afford to hope for that yet. We’ll find them apart again. Next time bring the bolas, even for the boy. A bruise or two won’t matter if we have...”

Toothless failed to hear the rest of the conversation. He had flown too far, and not even his Night Fury ears could pick up such distant sounds. He could now mull over on what he had heard, and so he did, frenziedly.

A deal with Hiccup? Two years of exile? Keep me hostage? What does Spitelout want? Blackmail? What is ‘blackmail’? It does not sound good.

If what he understood was correct, it was a good thing that they had managed to escape, but for very different reasons than those Toothless had formerly expected. In fact, even Hiccup did not seem to know what the other Vikings wanted from him. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it was a good thing that Hiccup had not heard about his banishment being for only two years. Perhaps it was a good thing if Hiccup thought they wanted to kill him. And, apparently, that was exactly what he had inferred from the situation:

“I can’t believe they were looking for me all this time!” the boy complained once they were halfway back to Old Balheim.

“Why won’t they just let me rot in exile?! If they just came to kill you by finding me first, then I’d quickly end up dead too! I mean, they must know I can’t make it out here by myself! Unless... Unless, they meant to take me back. But I’m an outcast, and outcasts are executed. And I’ve likely been disowned too, so... Either way I end up dead! Does my father want me d-... no, I…” Hiccup exhaled wearily, lying with his back along Toothless’ spine, but keeping his feet in the stirrups.

“I can’t believe he wants me dead,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat, though Toothless heard him anyway. “I just... can’t. I’m not his son anymore, but still, even he wouldn’t go that far. Right?” He paused to calm his breathing.

As they flew, Toothless tried cooing softly at him, but there was nothing he could say, not in a way that his rider could hear at least, though even if there had been a way, Toothless still did not know what he could have said. Night Furies were capable of many things, but giving consolation to other creatures was not one of them.

Once his voice was back to normal, Hiccup sat up again. “What if it’s just Spitelout who wants to kill me,” he said. “Still… no, this makes no sense. If Spitelout is out here, it’s because my father sent him. Maybe I should have heard if they had something to say-”

Toothless barked his disapproval immediately.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. They were throwing axes at us, weren’t they?”

Toothless crooned agreement.

He was thankful for Hiccup's human hearing, and, although it made him feel slightly ashamed to admit it, he hoped his rider would never come across the information he had just gathered, for he could still see the boy’s uneasy attachment to his birthplace.

Toothless felt a very conscious fear of that attachment. He feared that, if Hiccup ever found out that those men had not meant to harm him, even if their intentions were not entirely good, he would, at some point, demand to go back. Toothless could not run that risk. He was going to do everything in his power to keep Hiccup as far away from Berk as possible, which meant they couldn’t stay on Old Balheim anymore, they had to move even further. Fortunately, this time Hiccup's thoughts were aligned with his.

“Ugh! To Helheim with them!” He said. “I guess we’ll have to leave these islands too, and find another place even more south.”

Toothless crooned again for agreement.

“Summer ends in a few months,” Hiccup continued. “Spitelout won't be sailing when the sea starts to freeze. Who would have thought we'd be safest during winter, eh bud?" He scratched his side affectionately.

Toothless replied with a particularly strong purr, fueled by both the scratches and the relief that came from seeing Hiccup dismiss his renewed thoughts of home so quickly. Perhaps he needn’t have worried so much.

“At least I got the bow. Look!” Hiccup extended his new weapon above Toothless’ head, so he could observe it while flying. “I kind of had to steal it though. But I wouldn’t have, if Spitelout hadn’t found me,” Hiccup confessed. “I never stole anything before. At least I almost finished a very good axe to pay for it. Still… I did steal more arrows than I was promised as I left. I didn’t have time to count them. Let’s just hope Balheim’s weaponsmith doesn’t start chasing me as well, right?” He said the last part almost seriously, though there was finally mirth too in his words.

“So, what do you think? Do you like it?” He asked, shaking the weapon above Toothless’ head.

Toothless let out a generic warble. He did not know how the weapon worked. It looked rather harmless to him.

Hiccup seemed to understand the meaning behind that sound. “I’ll show you how it works another time. First we have to get our stuff from our camp.”

Not long afterwards, Toothless landed in their camp on Old Balheim. He waited for Hiccup to prepare for leaving. The boy gathered his pelts, clothes, pots, pans, and all the other tools that humans appeared to require in order to survive.

Once Hiccup was done cramming everything in his usual basket, he tied it to the saddle.

“Alright,” he said, before checking his surroundings one last time. “I’m glad I didn’t build a house on this island; it would have been a completely wasted effort. Right, bud?”

Toothless huffed dubiously. He could still not see the point of Hiccup building a shelter, when his own wings could provide his rider with all the shelter that he was ever going to need.

“Trust me, when winter comes, even your wings can’t protect me from the cold all the time,” Hiccup explained, responding to Toothless’ thoughts.

Toothless cocked his head. He was regularly surprised by the boy’s ever-improving ability to understand him. It was uncanny. Without even trying to communicate words with his rider’s mind, Hiccup would occasionally understand him regardless. Perhaps Toothless was never going to need to actually use words with his rider, though it would have still been a useful thing to be able to do.

“Off we go, bud,” Hiccup said, jumping on the loaded saddle. “Let’s just hope we find land before nightfall.”

They were quickly among the clouds once again.

“Wait!” The boy yelled against the wind. “Let’s go south and east! Spitelout saw us fly west from Balheim, so we should be harder to find if we go east instead. Don’t you think?”

Toothless welcomed the clever suggestion by veering his one tailfin and twitching his wings accordingly, which was all the signal Hiccup needed to adjust the prosthetic fin with his foot-pedal.

Noon was replaced by late afternoon, when Toothless spotted the first large island on their path. It was very big, about the size of Berk, but, unfortunately, it appeared to be already densely populated. Two mountain peaks, one of which an apparently spent volcano, emerged from the sea, and old forests coated their steep sides. A sizeable village extended from one shore, deep into the island. It was likely that the humans were even more numerous here than on Berk.

“This must be Thargran. Home to the… what was it? I’m sure I heard the tribe’s name before. Their crests were all over the ships in Balheim’s docks,” Hiccup explained. “Let’s just keep this island as reference, and find some place nearby.”

So, they flew past Thargran, until Toothless spotted a few dragons on the horizon, flying towards the distant skies to the east; they were probably too far for Hiccup’s human eyes to identify them. It was a small flock of the kind that Vikings called Gronckles, and they were travelling freely, clearly unbound from the queen’s control. Perhaps they were close to some nesting grounds, Toothless thought, and gradually steered towards them, thinking there were higher chances of finding land in that direction. He was soon proven right.

When his rider noticed the second island on their path, he prompted Toothless to land. He needed to rest and eat, but very soon they were flying once more, as that island was, according to Hiccup, both too close to Thargran, and too small to have an adequate amount of wildlife. They needed to look further.

The setting sun began to warm their backs, tinting clouds and waves in all shades of orange and yellow. Hiccup had always seemed to regard this time of day as his favourite for being in the sky. The boy had never said so, but Toothless could tell by observing how his rider behaved during these flights.

Promptly, Hiccup sat up straight, spreading his arms like a second pair of imaginary wings. He then wiggled his fingers against the air, and, whenever Toothless glanced behind, he would see the sincerest fraction of a smile upon the boy’s face, mixed with the smallest hint of excitement or fear; likely a fear of falling, or being blown away by the wind. It was the same expression Hiccup had worn when flying for the first time.

Although it was slightly harder to keep his speed when Hiccup sat up like that, Toothless never complained. He just flapped his wings a bit faster to maintain his altitude. For some reason, he reveled in the notion that his rider could actually feel what it was like to have wings. To any dragon, and even more so to a Night Fury, flying was the very thing that made life worth living. Toothless could not begin to imagine why, but sharing his wings with a human made the experience all the more interesting.

They had left Balheim at midday, and it was already past sundown when Hiccup finally chose a place where to settle.

Showered by the cool tinges of twilight, this island appeared to be less than half the size of Old Balheim. The deep, shady mouth of its lone but tall volcano housed a small glacier, which was the source of the island’s many thin waterfalls and rivulets. Most of the mountain’s feet seemed permanently concealed in low, misty clouds. The forest was rich with both slender saplings and proud old trees, heavy with needles or dark-green leaves. The resources seemed abundant, and the clearings plentiful, and, most importantly, it was not inhabited. Not by humans at least.

“This place looks nice. What do you think?” Hiccup said as they approached. He sounded pleased, but his voice did betray some exhaustion.

“This could very well be our next home. Seems big enough, and I think I see water, and… there! There’s sand!”

Toothless veered towards the northern shore, which appeared slightly more hospitable thanks to its sandy beach, whereas the southern side was almost entirely trailed with cliffs. The island was indeed uninhabited by humans, but the clear scents of a small number of dragons soon reached his nostrils.

Despite the fact that mating season was soon about to begin, the resident dragons didn’t give off any particularly aggressive scents, nor did they seem particularly ill-inclined. In fact, one dragon appeared quite welcoming to the mighty Night Fury, or so Toothless believed when they landed, for the little Terrible Terror (as Vikings used to call them) was instead more interested in his rider, who had just slid off his back, and, after removing his rather tattered boots, was now enjoying the sand with his bare feet.

The small twitchy dragon approached curiously, sniffing the air with short, nervous breaths. He was mostly bright green, but the top of his head and the tips of the tendril-like fins on his back were colored red. The Terrible Terror squawked to get Hiccup’s attention. Toothless refrained from growling. Free Terrors were mostly harmless, especially when alone.

“Hey, little guy,” Hiccup said, forgetting to remove the heavy basket from Toothless’ back. He crouched lower on the sand and extended a welcoming hand to pet the small animal. “Do you live here?” he asked, as the little Terror leaned gleefully into his hand, clearly enjoying the friendly scratches.

“AAUGH!!! Thor’s fff…” Hiccup screamed and hissed, making Toothless jump in alarm.

Toothless was ready to tear the little green beast apart, when he noticed that what had caused his human to yell was actually a tiny crab, which had bitten Hiccup’s bare foot. The crab was immediately flung in the air by the boy’s sudden jolt of pain.

Before Toothless could relax again, the Terrible Terror readily shot a small, but very quick ball of fire towards the tiny crab, before it fell on the ground. He then rushed to the dead creature and picked it up with his teeth. He finally offered it to Hiccup. It was an unusually friendly gesture for the often selfish species.

Annoying little thing, Toothless thought to himself. He couldn’t help feeling left out, which was very much a new feeling to him, one, he realized, he did not like at all. Besides, his annoyance was justified; his prosthetic fin was chafing his tail, the basket was still weighing on his back, and his rider had completely forgotten about both.

“Nice shot!” Hiccup exclaimed, picking up the dead, semi-cooked crab. He did not seem to refuse the offer, though he did not eat the crab either, much to Toothless’ relief.

“Thanks, little guy. How about a name? I’m going to call you…” Hiccup hummed thoughtfully, “Sharpshot!”

Sharpshot?! Toothless huffed, rolling his eyes. How about ‘Barely-Decent-Shot’?

Yes, Toothless decided, this tiny, jolly, and annoyingly lovable dragon was definitely too friendly for his liking. Without Hiccup seeing him, he squinted at the little Terror.

To Toothless’ utter shock, in an unbelievable display of impudence, the little Terror stuck his tongue out.