Chapter Text
Eret’s lost count of the days.
It’s been a few weeks at least, they’re pretty sure. But Quackity seems to always show up at random, and they’ve got no way of judging by their sleep when they spend more time unconscious than not.
They’re not really sure why they’re fighting so hard.
Well. They are. They promised to bring Michael his dads. They don’t break promises anymore.
(Again, maybe it’s the thought that they deserve this. That they can somehow make up for everything they’ve done if they just suffer enough .)
The door slides open. Eret is already standing at the back of the cell before Quackity’s even fully entered, the still-healing scars from the past couple of days throbbing with the movement. The duck hybrid sighs, shaking his head.
“What am I gonna do with you, Eret, huh? Dream’s an easy one, really. He’s had power for so long he’s got no idea what it’s like to be without it and it terrifies him. But you, you’re a harder nut to crack. So I, uh, pulled in a bit of outside help.”
Eret opens their mouth to question whatever the hell that means, when the sight of another person walking through the cell door makes their stomach drop.
Dream stands in front of Quackity, unmasked, green eyes burning and ratty hair hanging down to his shoulders. There’s heavy chains around his wrists and ankles, attached at the waist of his burnt-orange jumpsuit to a long chain held tight in Quackity’s gloved hand.
He smirks, and there’s pure glee in his voice when he speaks. “Welcome to hell, Your Majesty.”
Eret doesn’t know when their knees buckled, but now they’re frozen on the ground and staring straight up at their worst nightmare.
Dream snickers, crossing the cell as his chains clatter to the ground and Quackity disappears beyond the iron doors. “Quackity said I couldn’t hurt you, that’s his job, but other than that I can do whatever I want. I missed our chats, you know.”
Eret can’t seem to get enough air.
“Let’s have another one, hmm?”
They don’t respond. Dream sighs, crouching in front of them and waving his hand in their face. “Prime, you’re pathetic, you know that?” He scoffs. “What am I saying, ‘course you do. Look at you.”
Dream snaps his fingers, and their unfocused gaze immediately snaps onto him. “That’s much better. Though it’s a shame they took your glasses, I can't believe they’d want to see that .”
They can’t move. They squeeze their eyes shut, tears prickling up as they fight to not react.
“Y’know, Quackity told me I could stay here as long as you keep fighting them. Frankly, I’m hoping you do keep fighting. Finally got me out of that fucking lava cell, about damn time. I guess I have you to thank for that!”
Dream grabs their jaw, grip icy cold and tight enough to bruise. Their eyes fly open. “Well? You gonna say ‘you’re welcome’?”
Bile burns at the back of their throat at the thought. They can’t make themself pull away. They don’t answer.
“I guess I’ll let it go this once,” Dream finally says, letting go of their face. “But don’t you want to have fun together? Like I told Tommy. You’re all so fun.”
They swallow. Their throat is dry. “I’m not your puppet anymore, Dream.”
The Admin’s face lights up. “They speak! Look at that, ha. All it took was a little pushing in the right direction. Sam and Quackity must be goin’ easy on you.” He looks them up and down, lip curling. “You’ve still got your old clothes on. No jumpsuit? Guess they’re going beyond easy on you.”
Eret doesn’t like the slight drop in Dream’s voice, the way his face shifts ever so slightly with rage threatening to boil over at any second. “I wouldn’t call Quackity coming in here ‘going easy on me’.”
Dream lifts one of Eret’s arms, the once-white sleeve now stained, torn, and bloodied along with the rest of their shirt. They try to hold back a wince as Dream drops their arm, the action sending a harsh tug and sharp starburst of pain through their dislocated shoulder. Dream stares at them, then before they even register his movement there’s a harsh snap and white hot claws of pain erupt from Eret’s shoulder. A scream tears its way out of their throat.
It’s harshly cut off by Dream slamming a hand over their mouth.
Eret chokes on their own scream, thrashing violently. Dream backs up, hands raised in a mock gesture of giving up. They drag themself towards the corner of their cell like a cornered animal, eyes darting from Dream to the door to Dream to the door and—
And nothing. No one is coming.
“Please, you’d think I was the one who did that to you,” Dream grumbles, the roll of his eyes audible in his voice. “You’re always so overdramatic, Eret. I figured that would’ve been knocked outta you by now.”
“Why are you even here?” Eret says quietly. The words feel heavy in their mouth. They sound like someone else speaking from a tunnel.
Dream sighs again. “I told you,” he says, patronizingly, sickeningly slowly, “Quackity needs you to cooperate, but honestly I don’t care what you do! Either way I get out of my cell, and I get to make sure at least one of my toys is in working order. It’s a win-win for me!”
Eret’s head throbs. Their skin crawls.
A loud clang startles them both, Dream whipping around and Eret just barely catching a glimpse of navy beanie and golden feathers. “Get against the back wall, both of you,” Quackity snaps, slamming the butt of his axe on the iron bars again. Eret scoots away from the corner, a hiss of pain escaping through clenched teeth as they push themself agonizingly slowly to their feet. Dream remains standing in the center of the cell.
“Dream,” Quackity all but snarls, “get fucking back. Or I swear to Prime I’ll burn every last disc on this goddamn server, you hear me?”
Dream smirks at him, but slowly backs up.
Quackity opens the cell just enough to grab Dream’s chains and yank him out. “Well, Eret? Are we gonna be back later?”
Eret is so tempted to say no. They could just give up now, they realize. They could shove Dream and his violent green whispers out of their life again, back into that little box they’d shoved said whispers into one night when the voice got too strong and they couldn’t even hear their own thoughts over the poisonous leeches in their mind.
They could just give up.
Quackity must see it in their face, because he shoves Dream over to the silently waiting Warden, restrained glee lighting up his eyes. “That’s right Eret,” he says gently, stepping up to the bars. “We don’t have to be back later, do we?”
“I…” The words seem to stick in their throat, and everything suddenly shifts.
They don’t want to give up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Quackity,” they say slowly.
The other’s face morphs into pure anger and the slightest hint of surprise. He chuckles darkly, slinging his pickaxe over his shoulder and glancing over to where Sam had disappeared with Dream—presumably to the main cell. “If you say so, Eret. If you say so.”
Quackity and his pickaxe don’t show up the next day. Or, at least what Eret thinks is the next day. They pick absentmindedly at one of the scabbing, jagged scars on their arm, pacing back and forth again.
Maybe he isn’t coming.
Maybe he was just bluffing.
Maybe he’s trying to throw them off.
They let out a sigh, dragging a hand down their face. It’s no good trying to guess at anything here, not after…his visit the other day. Eret opens their inventory with a frown. There’s only a few potatoes left, enough to keep their hearts up but not for very long. That, and…the book and quill.
A sudden flash of rage sparks in them, and with a shout they hurl the book as hard as they can at the barred window.
They’re so tired of this.
The leather slaps to the ground, a few pages tearing. Eret sinks down against the wall with a wince of pain. In the silence broken only by the still-steady drip of obsidian tears, their eyes slowly drift shut.
Time ticks on. They sleep, wake up, tear off some potato, stare at the book sitting innocently across from them, then make themself fall back asleep and do it all over again. It’s easier than having to deal with things.
‘Days’ pass without visit nor delivery. The constant twang in their stomach is pretty much background noise now. They try to make the food stretch longer.
Maybe Quackity’s forgotten about them. Eret wouldn’t exactly be surprised. But there was still the Warden, right? Someone still had to be running this place.
…It can’t hurt to get some rest for a bit, can it?
“Eret?”
They grunt in reply, shifting slightly. It must have only been a bit since they last woke up, with the soreness of their body and the somewhat-quieted ringing in their ears. …..There's an odd sort of ache in their hands.
“Eeereeet…..” The voice sings, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten , now!”
They cough, ribs twinging as they sit up and blink the bleariness from their eyes. “…Quackity?”
Orange and green fill their vision. “Guess again.”
Eret forces back a full shudder, but holds their tongue. They know what mouthing off again will get them. “Dream.”
“Winner winner.” Dream pulls back out of their face, and they push themself to their feet.
“I… I don’t see why you’re here,” Eret says carefully.
Dream tsks. “Like I said before, I get to talk to you again and get out of my cell. Why wouldn’t I come here?” He leans back against the wall behind him. “I haven’t been allowed to have fun in so long . Not since Tommy dropped by!”
“You killed Tommy,” Eret snaps. “We all know. You’ve always targeted him, even back during the war—you’re not very fucking subtle about it, you monster!”
Maybe it’s the flash of protectiveness they feel as soon as the man brings up Tommy, maybe it’s the reminder of the feeling of helplessness as they’d rushed from the portal into that cursed room. Maybe it’s the memory of Tommy grinning at them crookedly, loudly proclaiming they “really weren’t that bad of a king, after all!’. Whatever it is that drives their outburst, the cell goes silent after it. Dream just stares at them, head cocked to the side. Eret’s stomach drops.
They’ve fucked up.
Dream takes a step towards them, eyes locked onto Eret’s own. “Would you like to repeat that, Eret?”
The correct response is ‘no, sir’. The correct response is to back down and give up and stay quiet. Eret’s had enough of correct responses.
“You’re an absolute monster.”
(It’s the same phrase they had said to Bad, that fateful day. The same phrase that nearly cost them their head—their life, for real that time. If Eret were to look back on this now, they’d realize that maybe history does happen to repeat itself.)
Dream’s fist connects with their already-broken nose before they can even react.
They’re knocked flat on their back, gasping for air from the impact and nearly choking on the blood dripping into their mouth. “Dream—“
He doesn’t wait to let them finish. Eret shouts in pain as Dream’s foot connects with their ribs, once, twice, scrabbling at the rough ground with a wheezing breath to try and pull themself out of the way. “Dream, stop—“
“Go ahead, please, Eret,” Dream snaps, earlier casualness vanished completely. “Tell me what you really think of me! I’m a monster ? Really? What does that make you ? I haven’t cheated my way to power. I haven’t killed my best friends in cold fucking blood. Everything I’ve done is for a goddamn reason . You can’t say the same, can you?”
Eret spits blood onto the floor, glaring up at him. “You created that for me. The difference is I regret it.”
Dream scoffs, fingers twitching as if curled around the handle of an axe. “The difference is you’re a fucking coward. We wouldn’t be here if you listened , would we? Like a good little soldier does. Follows orders. Obeys.”
“I’m not a soldier anymore,” they bite out.
“Oh, that’s right, I’m sorry!” Dream’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. “You’re even less than that!”
It takes a few breaths before Eret’s able to reply. “At least I’m more than you’ll ever be.”
Dream’s face boils with pure fury. He grabs Eret by the shirt collar, hoisting them up even though they’ve got a good inch or so on him. “Go ahead! Say it again! I might not have my axe this time,” he spits, “but I’m sure I’ll find a way.”
The thick line of old scarring across Eret’s throat throbs with a phantom pain long pushed aside. “Sam won’t let you do… that ,” they insist, though the shake in their voice betrays how little they believe it.
Dream snickers. “Please. As if I give a shit . He hasn’t stopped me yet, has he?” He drops them abruptly, Eret choking back a groan of pain as they crumple directly onto their previously-dislocated shoulder. Dream crouches down this time, putting them back at eye level as they force themself to raise their head. “I’m glad you’re not making this easy on them, Eret. You’ve learned from the best! But you’re still as stupid as I remember, if you really think Sam cares what happens to you in here.”
Eret flinches, pulling back. The eye contact is starting to burn at this point, and though it nauseates them to do so again they drop their gaze to the floor. It soothes the pain, at least slightly, but the pure glee they can practically feel radiating off of Dream at the action makes their stomach churn.
“That’s it,” Dream says sickeningly sweetly, like he’s calming a pet. Or a cornered animal. “I knew you knew it.
Truth
hurts, doesn’t it?”