Chapter Text
The house had always changed and grown, ever since Ranboo could remember. He watched as his brother lifted planks into place, hammered things in, carved stone walls. Change had always been a constant. He sat in front of the fire, watching the flames dance across the stone as he listened to soft music. It floated in the air like delicate ice, tinkling softly. He hummed along, the melody vibrating deep into the stone.
“Ranboo.” His brother’s voice made him look up, into a calm face, a small smile. He never looked right in his eyes, it always made him upset. “Shh. It’s making the house vibrate again.” A finger is pressed against his brother’s lips.
“Sorry,” Ranboo said, looking back into the fire. He pulled his bunny plushie closer, rubbing the end of the ear between his fingers. He felt gentle hands push through his hair, carding through it as his brother started singing along to the music.
“Are you falling asleep, Booboo?” The voice was soft, teasing. Ranboo nodded, his eyes unfocused and staring into the dancing flames. He was lifted up, up, up into the air, then held close, pressed into a warm, familiar body. “Okay, guess it’s time for bed then.” A gentle hand rubbed circles into his back, soft voice singing in his ear.
“Run through the meadow,
And there you will find,
Upon a branch oh so high,
A young little sparrow
Singing a rhyme…”
The familiar words sent Ranboo slowly tumbling into sleep, tightly held in his brother’s arms. His brother mounted the stairs, humming the lullaby until he gently laid Ranboo in his bed and pulled a warm blanket up to cover him. He gently smoothed back the black curls that hung in the small boy’s face.
Downstairs, a king knocked once, twice, three times. He had agreed to meet this ridiculous god to negotiate terms of a challenge. He’d never been in this world before, far used to the red caverns of his kingdom and the beautiful rivers of lava that flowed through. Water and greenery was new to him and he’d decided he’d do his best to limit his contact with this world.
The door opened and there stood the god in forest green. The pale white porcelain of the smiley face mask shone in the moonlight and the firelight flickering from inside. “Hello, Technoblade.” The voice was cold, distant. It was almost like the god before him didn’t truly see him as a sentient being and instead just… a tool.
“Hello, Dream.” Techno used the exact same tone and could feel Dream’s mood shift. He inclined his head. “May I come in? You’ve invited me for negotiation of the… challenge.” Disdain dripped from his voice at the mention of the challenge. It was so far beneath him to fight useless battles, even against a god.
Dream was still for a moment before stepping aside, allowing Techno into his house. Chests lined the walls, no clear indication of what they stored. Strapped to Dream’s back was a shield and against the wall leaned a giant axe, nearly as large as the god himself. Techno looked around, slowly, carefully, before sitting. Enemies could never be underestimated.
“I’m not going to attack you in my own house. I’d have to fix everything and scrub blood off the floor,” Dream said, crossing his arms as he watched Techno. The king smiled slightly, idly tracing a shape on the wooden table.
“Fair enough, I suppose. So. The challenge.” He raised eyes as dark as pitch to the blankly smiling mask. “I will offer ten battles. Every battle, the terrain changes. Whoever wins the most, wins overall.” His voice was bored, distant. He enjoyed annoying this self-proclaimed god. It was so easy to get a rise out of him - almost too easy.
“Fine. A match is won when the other concedes or is rendered unable to fight any longer,” Dream said. Techno nodded and grinned dangerously at Dream.
“Agreed,” he said. As he stood and the two shook hands, there was the soft creak of a wooden step. Techno spun around, sword drawn, to find a child rubbing his eyes and yawning. He held a large bunny plushie that was almost half his size. A tail curled around his leg, ending with a puff of black fur.
“Dre?” he said, his voice soft and barely existent. Dream scooped the child up, holding him close. “Dre, who’s the man? He has a crown, too. Just like me.” A green eye and purple eye flicked to Techno nervously before focusing again on the lower part of Dream’s mask.
“This is my friend Technoblade. He came over to talk a little bit.” Dream’s voice was soft, gentle, careful, oh so careful. He held the child with care, like he could be broken just by moving too much. The boy nodded, a small hand pressing against Dream’s mask, tracing the smile.
“Okay. Is Tech, uh, Techobade staying the night? He can, he can, um, sleep in my bed if he gots to,” he said, stumbling over the king’s name. Techno stared at the child, glancing at Dream for a moment.
“No. I was just leaving,” he said. He inclined his head slightly to Dream. “Sleep well. I will see you in three days time, at the mountain’s summit. Or you forfeit.”
Dream nodded, turning to Techno. “Understood. Whoever is the better fighter wins,” he said. The boy looked between the two for a short moment before his eyes lit up.
“My Dre fights super super good! If you win then wow! You’re super good too!” He clapped, smiling widely. His teeth were as sharp as knives, shining dully in the firelight. Dream laughed, pressing his forehead against the boy’s. Techno suddenly felt like he should not be here. He stepped back and, silently, turned and left the brothers alone in their warm house in the overworld.
***
When his brother had swept his hand over his curls, kissed his head, and told him he’d be back, Ranboo hadn’t doubted it for a second. He knew what chores he had to do (Dream couldn’t do everything on his own) and he did them as best he could. There were only three spilled buckets of milk, but Ranboo was very careful with the last two. He knew that if he did everything right, or as best as he could, they’d make a cake or, in rarer cases, cookies to celebrate.
The sun was only in the middle of the sky, hanging high overhead, as Ranboo did his best to dig up potatoes. He tried to remember what Dream had told him, how to tell if they were ready or not. He stared at the slightly green potato in one hand, then at the dusky brown one in the other. He frowned in concentration, trying to remember the rhyme he and Dream had made to remember.
“Green… is new, is newly made,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows. “Brown can be cut with a blade.” That meant the brown one was safe to be eaten. So he buried the green potato and gathered as many brown potatoes as he could, carrying them into the house. The counter was slightly shorter than he was, so he lifted the potatoes up onto it, grinning when none rolled off. He looked back at the trail of potatoes left behind and bent down to gather them. Dream would be so proud when he came home and found baked potatoes ready.
Ranboo looked around for something to stand on, quickly locating several books. He carefully stacked them before climbing on top, making sure he wouldn’t fall off. He grinned and reached for a knife. He’d watched Dream make baked potatoes so many times before, how hard could it be? He carefully split one potato open, doing his best to make it even. He smiled proudly and continued to split potatoes open, very very carefully. He remembered Dream’s words.
“Be careful, these knives are very sharp, Boo. You might not even notice that you cut yourself, okay? So be very careful.”
Ranboo grinned when he finally finished all of them. He knew that Dream would smear butter on them, along with some other vegetables, but he couldn’t remember what else Dream put on there. He frowned. Climbing down from the books, he walked over to where they kept the butter on the counter. It was away from the furnace, but that was because if it was by the furnace it would go bad. He carried it back over to the potatoes and carefully cut pieces off, dropping it into the middle of the potatoes. Now came the hard part. Putting the potatoes in the furnace and lighting it.
Dream had made sure the furnace was off before he left, and since he’d be home before night truly fell, Ranboo wasn’t worried about being cold. He stared into the dark pit of the furnace, trying to force its secrets forward. It stared back, blank and empty.
“Please tell me something?” he said, frustrated. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm. If he wasn’t calm, then he’d start feeling weird and glitchy and he didn’t want that. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what Dream did with the potatoes. Usually the furnace was on when he put them in, but he couldn’t blame Ranboo if he put the potatoes in first and then lit the furnace, right? Right.
So he carefully piled the potatoes in the furnace and turned to go through the chests in the kitchen. He thought it lit using a… a steel? No, no, it lit using something with a steel. Something fell in the chest as he was rummaging and he paused, staring at the streak of black on the chest wall. Flint. Flint and steel. That’s what would light the furnace. He beamed and reached for the flint, pulling the small thing out. He went over to the furnace and carefully struck it once, twice, and finally it lit.
Laughter bubbled out of Ranboo and he bounced up, carefully closing the furnace door. He skipped outside, pride dripping from his smile. Now to collect the eggs, since he was sure the chickens had laid more since Dream had left. Investigating, he found he was right, and carried the ten eggs back inside. He knew Dream would be proud when he came home, he just knew it. But for now, there was still time to wait until he came back.
Ranboo knew he wasn’t allowed past the fence, for fear of him accidentally getting lost, but he also remembered a wooden path leading to a long dock that hung over water. He pulled on boots that Dream had made him (sturdy, the leather soft under his fingertips) and stepped outside. The sun was closer to the horizon now, but he estimated he had maybe an hour of daylight left. The path was easy enough to find, lined with lanterns to light the way even in the dark. He walked down the wooden path, finding comfort in how his feet hit the wooden planks below. And soon enough, he was at the edge of the dock, looking out onto an ocean.
It was so big. It stretched far past his fingertips, far past his field of vision. It was as big as the entire world. He sat down, watching as the sun sunk towards the ocean. He wondered if it would be swallowed whole. A soft sound came from his right, but he didn’t need to look to see that it was one of the creatures that was like him.
“Are you safe, little one?”
“Yes. Very safe.”
He didn’t remember where he learned the language, but it felt like it was just built into his soul. As the sun sank, he watched as the stars appeared, the enderman at his side.
“You must go home. Someone is coming. Someone powerful.”
Another soft sound, and the enderman was gone. Ranboo pushed himself up, brushing off his pants, and ran home, his tail waving excitedly behind him. As he got closer, he could see far in the distance a lantern. He bounced excitedly, almost in place, before running inside. He had forgotten about the potatoes, but he could take them out now.
It was smokey in the house. Something smelled burned. Ranboo’s heart plummeted as he ran to the furnace. Carefully, he opened the door. Black soot poured out and he coughed, covering his eyes to protect them. Pulling his hands away, he found charred masses that barely even looked like potatoes. He could feel tears welling up and, try as he might, he couldn’t push them down. So he sat, crying, as his tears burned his skin and the charred potatoes charred even more.
The door slammed open and Ranboo jumped, looking up as the tears continued down his cheeks. Dream stared at him, eyes wide, scared. Without a word, his older brother scooped him up and hugged him tightly, burying his face in a mess of Ranboo’s curls. Ranboo simply cried harder, wiping his tears away as fast as he could.
“Ranboo, what…?”
“I was, I was, I was tryin’, tryin’ to m-m-m-make baked p-p-p-potatoes for you when, when you came home,” Ranboo sobbed. “But I forgot ‘bout them and, and, and now they’re ruined, and, and, and we don’t got no dinner and, and it’s all my fault!”
Dream stared at his little brother, covered in soot and tears, then glanced at the black things that were supposed to be potatoes. He could ignore his own aches and pains for right now, because his little brother was crying. “You made them all by yourself?” Ranboo nodded, sniffling. “Wow! That’s impressive, Boo! I’m proud of you for trying, even if it didn’t turn out great in the end.” The two glanced at the furnace and Ranboo giggled.
“You, you could say it kinda, kinda went up in, in smoke,” he said, giggling. Dream wheezed, making that tea kettle sound, and Ranboo grinned at having gotten his brother to laugh.
“You’re right, Boo. Now let’s try to get all this off of you, yeah?”
Ranboo nodded, happy his brother was home finally.
Long after Dream had managed to clean Ranboo up and get him into bed, he sat by the fire to finally give attention to his wounds he’d suffered. He carefully studied the gouge deep in his leg, thankful that Ranboo hadn’t noticed the limping. He’d gotten it patched up with the help of a kind stranger named Karl, who seemed to have plenty of medical supplies and food, but absolutely nothing else. It was strange, he wasn’t going to lie. He carefully bandaged it, then turned his attention to the countless other, smaller, cuts and bruises.
Now to decide how to punish Technoblade for humiliating him. Dream stared into the flames, thinking. He heard a soft sound from outside, the sound of an enderman teleporting. An idea struck him then, violently shaking him to his core. He smiled, wicked and spiteful. Techno would have his kingdom of violence, sure. But his people will be more monstrous than Techno had ever seen. But first he had to heal, recover his strength, and, most importantly, spend time with Ranboo.