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The DWMA, an organization established by Lord Death himself to preserve the balance and order of the world-- be it from humans turned Kishin who consume the souls of others or evil witches who hunger for destruction above all else. With such an important job, you wouldn't expect for their main headquarters to be a school in the middle of the desolate plains of the Arizona desert. The Death Weapon-Meister Academy stands above the rest of Death City, USA: a training ground for aspiring meisters and their weapon partners to learn, fight, and grow into their role of defending the world. All very important stuff certainly, but then again...they're still a bunch of teens, right?
It's something that the current Lord Death, Schlatt, has attempted to come to terms with his own kiddo. The son of Lord Death, a sliver of his very own soul-- Dream is a unique case for sure, but still a little brat in comparison to Schlatt's years upon years in the role as headmaster for the academy; the type who prefers learning by trailing around on missions he’s not supposed to with his best friends at the academy instead of trying to learn a thing or two from his old man.
He tries not to let his irritation show as he watches him son invite himself in with the weapon-meister pair he'd called in; for their part, at least George looks a little sheepish as the three walk through the guillotine-styled torii gates to enter Death's domain. Schaltt might not look all big and scary right now, but he's still death-incarnate 'dammit-- be more afraid! At his side Philza, his current Death Scythe, notices his irritation as the false sky that makes up the ceiling of the dome-shaped "room" becomes clouded, and takes the initiative in ushering the boys in.
“Sapnap! George! Great seeing you two, great work you're doing out there, really," he says, pointedly ignoring the unofficial third member of their little team. His dearest boy looks like he's about to say something, so as the good father he is, he continues talking, "Last I checked George is at the 80 Kishin soul mark, good good. That's actually why I called you two in today. Here here, take a look--"
He takes a step back to gesture them towards Death's Mirror behind him, the reflection ripples and shifts to show the entrance to an icy frozen castle littered with obvious signs of a fight having occurred. "It stretches a lot higher, but someone's using a crazy amount of energy to keep a snow storm around the damn place, can't see shit. We're pretty sure it's a witch-- which , normally wouldn't be a problem since they're held up in the middle-of-fuck-nowhere Russia with nothing major to destroy nearby."
"I'm hearing a 'but' in that..." quips up Dream from behind the pair Schlatt was actually talking to.
"Yes, yes, of course there's a 'but'. Nice going downplaying my masterful buildup, now I'm making it all boring on purpose," he pauses just in time to catch Dream stagger as George expertly jabs his son’s side. Schlatt'll complain about his son skipping his fledgling reaper duties all day, but you won't catch him complaining about the friends he ends up skipping with; they're good kids, some of the best students at the academy save a select few.
"But— we received a report from the Eurasian-branch that some local mafia in the area had their fill of human souls and are aiming for a Witch's soul, this one, obviously. They’re a tenacious bunch, keep sending more and more guys there,” he said with a bored sigh. “Now, not gonna’ lie, this mission is high risk high reward. You could end up turning George here into a Death Scythe by completing your hundred Kishin and one bonafide witch soul quota or you could die horribly trying. But, that choice is up to you three."
"Three?" This time it’s Sapnap, his tone surprised yet bright as he exchanges a look with his partner before they look back at Dream with big smiles on their faces, it was once in a blue moon that Death himself actually sent his son along 'officially'.
He replies flippantly with a shrug, "Ya, why the fuck not? Extra protection or something." Schlatt figured his boy and his ridiculous smiling cartoonish-skull mask would tag along one way or another, "Just don't expect it to happen all the time if your mission's a success, you little twerps—" He was about to comment on how Dream would be hogging up space in front of the mirror worried about the pair when he notices they've already left, "Oh- Come on — Not even a thank you! Holy hell, Philza, are your kids this bad?"
"Eh, more or less. Young boys tend to act that way, I suppose."
It'd be a casual comment from anyone else, but the look in the Death Scythe's eyes as they turn back to the icy landscape through the mirror makes Schlatt feel bad he brought up the subject at all.
---
“ Achoo—! ” The force of the other’s sneeze makes Dream turn to make sure Sapnap’s okay, but he’s quickly reassured by the complaining whine that escapes his chattering teeth, “... Dream. I- it’s my turn, hand ‘em over.”
“Sap, you literally just had your turn ten minutes ago.” Dream’s grip on the fiery hilt of George’s weapon-form tightens as he pauses in his path through the snow to wait for the other, “Just stay close and keep up, okay?”
“You know it’s warmer for whoever’s holding it, come on— ” despite saying this, the Meister made no attempts to snatch his weapon partner, the fiery sword warming them, from Dream’s hand. A gloved hand grabs at the warm green hoodie the young reaper always wore (although he’d layered underneath it for the weather) and they continue their trek through the cold, whines and complaints included. “ Dream— Come on, you can go five minutes less, you’re death incarnate! You’re not the one dying here.”
“Dude, you’re not dying, I think I’d know,” he’s ready to keep the banter going and Sapnap’s mind off the cold when he spots something out in the distance. Amidst the white backdrop of the snow storm was a soft glowing red orb, calmly floating about as the duo approached on foot.
“Sap, George, you see that too right?”
“Uh huh, that’s a kishin soul alright. And I’m seeing way more up ahead.” Sapnap has the ability as a meister to see souls if he focuses, the cover of snow wouldn’t blind his sight in the slightest, “I think those mafia guys got to our snow palace first, they’re all over the place but...they aren’t really moving all that much.”
“That’s weird,” Dream hands over the sword to Sapnap, taking a few steps forward to analyze the soul in front of them. It’s all alone out here, no body in sight, meaning it might have been buried under all the snow falling? Had the witch killed it? But, they weren’t even at the castle just yet. “Well, guess that just makes our job easier if they’re fighting each other again already. Lead the way, Sap.”
The other nods with an excited look on his face, blazing sword at his side seemingly glowing hotter at the prospect of a good fight, “Hell ya, man! Let’s go kick some witch ass!”
They rush past more floating Kishin souls, left out in the cold one after another as if someone had cut them down just as they made their way to the witch’s lair. It was weird, really weird, and it only gets weirder as the persistent snowstorm they’d dealt with the whole trip almost instantaneously disappears as they near what looks to be the same entrance they’d seen in his dad’s mirror.
The clearing storm reveals a figure in a thick black cloak with fur lining, long flowing pink hair, and a stark white boar mask beneath a black pointed hat: a witch. The witch stands in a frame of destruction; the floor is clear of snow, crakes littering its surface from the impact of large sharpened ice crystals raining down in the midst of battle explaining the large number of glowing red souls around the entrance where they now stood. Something tugged at the back of Dream’s mind, some vague memory or some piece of info just out of his reach.
Sapnap is the first to break the icy silence between them, “So you’re the witch Ranboo, huh? I would’ve thought your soul would look different, not that it really matters to me through—“
The witch doesn’t respond, only tilts their head to glance over at them. Despite them both wearing masks, Dream feels as if the witch’s glare was solely directed at him, sending a chilling feeling down his spine that he can’t blame on the cold.
His friends are entirely unaware of the dilemma Dream is facing as Sapnap is already flinging into action, “—‘cause your soul is mine!” The flames around George’s sword-form glow brightly, leaving a trail of flickering orange embers as they slash at the witch before them, closing the distance between them rapidly. It seems far too easy as the sharpened blade nears the boar mask the other wears in a deadly horizontal arch—
Instead, it clangs with an awful bubbling screech as what should’ve been a clear hit is stopped by a solid layer of ice jutting from the ground. The fiery blade had cut through a decent way in, the incision still bubbling with quickly evaporating water, but it stopped at the hardened packed ice at its center just a few inches before hitting its target.
The witch stands completely still, unfazed behind the icy veil. They don’t give the weapon-meister pair any time to react before outstretching one gloved-hand to send the hunk of ice hurling backwards with a startled cry from Sapnap.
The confident, nonchalant attitude of their foe coupled with the realization that they hadn’t even spoken a single word of a spell brings forward the crushing realization that this is what his dad had been warning him about. This wasn’t all fun and games, and as much as Dream hated to admit it...they’d overestimated themselves.
Dream is torn between helping his friends and leaving his back exposed or buying them time to get back by doing what he can to distract the pig witch before them. He’s beginning to turn heel to check on his friends when a raspy deep voice cuts through his whirling thoughts.
“He might’ve gotten through if he hadn’t made such a big show with all that fire. You’re DWMA students, not performers.”
The witch was...chiding them? They -probably he - doesn’t say anything else, but they don’t make any obvious attempts of picking the fight back up. So, Dream figures he’ll take advantage of the situation and buy some time this way, “Ya, we’re students. We were just here to make sure the mob didn’t manage to get a witch soul, nothing else. My friend just gets excited at fighting strong opponents.”
“I’d find that more believable if you didn’t know the name of the witch who owned this castle. I know how your school works, witches are a threat to everything and everyone around them.”
“You really believe that? You’re in the middle-of-fuck-nowhere, things could’ve changed.”
“Don’t bullshit me, little reaper. I know you just want me to let you and your little friends go—“ The witch’s words came out venomously with their accusation, their body leaning forward so the tips of their fingers just barely touch the snowy ground, “I’m not sending you back to the academy without a few good cuts. No one comes here without getting hurt.”
A sequence of piercing icicles jut out in his direction, but Dream’s been ready to dodge for a while now. His signature flying skateboard ‘Nightmare’ manifests at will with a crackle of dark electricity at his fingertips, it takes less than seconds to alter its form to a snowboard— and just like that, Dream’s up in the air crushing the sharp ends of the ice meant to skewer him with the bottom of the board. “Guess my looks are pretty iconic, huh? Hear that Sap, even witches must gossip about me.”
Right on cue, Sapnap is back looking a bit messier, but fine nonetheless, “Loud and clear, man!” He picks up quickly to what’s going on as he shoots upward to grab a hold of ‘Nightmare’ and escape being punctured himself.
Dream struggles only slightly to keep his balance despite the extra weight, but once he’s sure the meister has a solid grip, he quickly spins the levitating snowboard around to launch Sap behind “Pig-mask”. He really didn’t appreciate the “performers” comment earlier, there’s always a solid technique behind their madness.
Pig-mask looks clearly taken aback as their line of sight is split between three targets; Dream on his snowboard in front , Sapnap landing behind them, and the weapon left falling between them midair as Sapnap makes his jump. Dream couldn’t blame the guy for focusing on George’s blade, for anyone who knew anything about demon-weapons knew a weapon couldn’t do much when separate from their meister. But, they were a trio for a reason.
That reason makes itself clear as Dream swoops forward to catch the hilt of George’s sword in his hand, the fire that had gone out roaring back to life in a bright lime green as he arches down in time with Sap aiming for a brutal soul wavelength attack at the witch’s back. Dream watches in slow motion as a small cube of ice just barely has enough time to manifest and throw off Sap’s footing, making him miss. Pig-mask immediately uses that new space between them, jerking back to escape the downward swing of the sword aimed at their head, losing their witch’s hat in the process to the flames as it only manages to strike said mask.
Red. Blood red eyes, the same color as the kishin souls littering their battlefield, stare back at Dream’s own through a large crack running from the top of the mask’s right eyelid to the beginning of its protruding snout. The mask crumbles away as Dream skids across the snow behind them to where Sapnap had fallen mid-attack.
He’s left staring in disbelief as the “witch” raises a hand to try and shield their face from view,
“Techno...blade?”
---
The eldest of the Craft children had always alluded Dream when he was younger. They’d be in the same house on numerous occasions when Schlatt, Philza, or both were called out on business. The young reaper had played and laughed with the younger Wilbur and Tommy under the watchful eye of their mother, but the boy his own age never seemed as approachable.
Sometimes he’d show up at their door to find Wilbur combing through his older brother’s long pink hair. Others, Tommy would whine and pout until “Techie” set his book down with a sigh and joined them in a game of cards. But, no matter what sway the siblings held over him, Technoblade rarely interacted with Dream. It’d stung initially, but after some time had passed (and some intervention from Philza) he understood that it wasn’t anything personal.
And, when their mother passed away, Dream spent his days keeping the boys occupied, running around in the backyard with Technoblade occasionally peaked over the brim of his book to make sure they were okay. They’d even advanced to the point where the eldest would ask Dream if he wanted anything from the kitchen! Quiet, reserved, and painfully shy— that was the Technoblade he knew as a kid...along with having a surprising competitive streak when it came to videogames.
The memory shifted and swayed forwards in time, until just about a year or so ago: the night before Dream met his best friends at the weapon-meister ball the weekend before their first day at the DWMA. As Lord Death ’s son, he was naturally a meister, so he’d been given a name tag with the title just like any other soon-to-be student and told to see if there was anyone he’d want to “pair up” with. But, everyone already knew the ball was mostly an excuse to make friends and goof off before all the rigid schooling to “protect the world from the forces of destruction and madness.”
He remembered spending most of it chasing around the energetic Sapnap as he attempted to speed run the whole partner-up thing to no avail. Dude was a riot though, hands down the best part of the party. They’d become quick friends and while Dream hadn’t been interested in finding a weapon partner that night, he had no trouble tagging along in the other meister’s hilarious attempts to...flirt? To flirt his way into snagging a demon-weapon partner.
Said partner, George, ended up finding them instead; as he chastised them both and somehow the whole thing escalated into a full on dance-off with the promise of partnership on the line. It was wild, but Dream wouldn’t have wanted to meet his best friends any other way.
That night had been a lot of things, at some point in the night Dream had stepped away to find the restroom. But, really, it had been an excuse to cool down for a bit and have some time for himself after the explosive (literally) conclusion to the dance-off. He’d walked aimlessly through the halls, opening doors just to awkwardly shuffle back out when it was occupied by a pair of budding partners or two. That was until he’d carefully cracked open a door to what appeared to be a darkened unoccupied room; but as he had opened it further, the light streaming in from the hallway illuminated a figure amongst a wall of books, tucked into a corner.
“Dream?”
The mellow, quiet way his name was spoken clued him in on who else had sought refuge from the party in this room. Aside from the obvious stack of books to the right of the adopted Craft brother, Techno himself quickly admitted he’d gotten overwhelmed by the event as Dream had taken a spot on the floor in front of him.
He’d been pretty surprised to see the words “Weapon” on Technoblade’s name tag, no one had ever mentioned he was one. Well...looking back, maybe Tommy had mentioned Techie turning “forky” at some point, but Dream had assumed it was his own Tommy-version of ‘prickly’.
He’d asked rather directly, “I didn’t know you were a weapon. What can you turn into?”
Which earned him the immediate reply of, “I’m not telling you, Dream.”
“ Come on— “ he prodded, shifting forward to get closer to the other, “We’re friends aren’t we?”
“More like I babysit you.” Techno raised the book in his hands to cover a smirk, but Dream was used to seeing behind his attempts to hide how he felt.
“We’re the same age, you’re hardly babysitting me.”
“Hmm, sure.” To Dream’s surprise, Techno closed his book and set it down in his lap, leaving soft red eyes and a small smile fully visible as he asked, “So you're not going to guess then? Leaving me to read my books in peace?”
He’s really pretty like this ...Dream hadn’t focused on that through up until that moment, but deep down it had been obvious. Although the fitted silk dress shirt and slacks he wore instead of the usual oversized fur-lined jacket, combined with an even more done-up braid than normal really accentuated the fact. It was a good thing the room was dark.
“Fuck no,” he laughed, “Let me guess...a sword? Or maybe a lance?”
“No.”
“How about an axe? Or a type of hammer?”
“No, and no,” Technoblade reached over to grab his book from his lap, “I guess the lance was your closest guess so far, thought.”
Dream hadn’t wanted their little banter to stop, blurting out the only clue he’d remembered earlier, “A...big fork?”
“Heh? Come on now, you’re sounding like Tommy.”
“Shut up, I’m just blanking on the name. It’s been a long night.” Well that clearly hadn’t worked...
They spent a few minutes in silence; with Techno opening up to the page he left off, while Dream sat cross-legged across from him with a hand supporting his head one one knee as he looked pointedly anywhere but his pink-haired 'friend’.
“You were having a lot of fun though, from what I saw,” murmured the weapon suddenly, startling Dream.
The admission surprised him, “You...you were watching me?” He hadn’t seen the other all night, he’d figured Technoblade had been holding up in this room from the start.
“Force of habit most likely.” Techno huffed, burying his face behind his book once more, “you're also kind of the only person I know here. So, don’t think that means anything.”
“Oh…” Somehow that made Dream feel warmer, knowing the other was embarrassed to even admit that much. “You know, you could’ve just come out and talked to me before. Or even before the party,” he’d been serious when he’d called the other a friend, they got along well even though they didn’t talk much. This had probably been their longest conversation to date and still Dream found himself enjoying it.
“...I know that. Just— I don’t feel too great about this whole weapon thing, okay? Didn’t want to potentially ruin your night with my usual loner-stitch.”
“What’s weird about it? Did you just learn about it recently?”
“No, it’s not that…” he clenched the book in his arms, pulling it and his knees closer to his chest, as if to shield himself. “I...don’t… like the idea of being used,” his voice was soft, a barely audible rumble that wouldn’t have been heard if Dream wasn’t so close.
He knew how Technoblade felt about touch, Dream had seen how long it took the other boy to relax when Tommy would lovingly throw himself into his big brother’s lap. So, he took Wilbur’s approach; slowly moved himself over to Technoblade’s right while pausing between each movement to make sure everything was okay. Eventually he was seated with his back against the row of bookshelves, almost shoulder to shoulder with him on the ground, but Techno hadn’t complained.
“I guess I’d feel kinda similar if I could transform into some demon-slaying weapon. It’d be pretty scary at first, leaving my safety and mobility to someone else,” he shrugged, seeing red eyes peer back at him from behind pink bangs. “But, my dad depends just as much on his weapons as they do him. He’s pretty tough on his own, but having people like Philza with him just makes him even better. So, I think that’s what they’re trying to aim for with this whole partner-thing: being better together.”
“Hmm...that was very motivational,” said Techno, his tone completely monotone but somehow dripping with sarcasm as he continued. “I think I’ve completely moved past years of emotional and physical trauma about being a weapon.”
This guy, he couldn’t let things get emotional without burying it in a joke. Though, in retrospect it was kinda cheesy (not that Dream would admit it).
“Oh, fuck off. And here I was trying to be nice.”
That had been his last major interaction with Technoblade. They’d chatted for a bit before Sapnap (followed by a peeved George) found them, were introduced to Techno, and then dragged Dream back into the dinning hall. He remembered the awkward half wave the boy had given him before turning back to his books; knowing what happened later made Dream wish he’d been more pushy and gotten him to join them.
Despite not finding anyone to pair up with, Technoblade became the top student in their year’s E.A.T class almost immediately. Dream never saw the guy fully turn into his weapon, he’d mostly come and go observing and learning with multiple classes as the son of the grim reaper; but he ended up losing his chance to do so completely when the lone weapon was pulled from classes entirely. Rumors about why had circled for weeks and his father avoided any specifics when he’d asked.
He couldn’t ask Techno directly, because being older and in school, he visited the Craft family home less and less. Although when he was there, Technoblade hardly was; the remaining siblings often told Dream that he’d gone out with their father, Philza. But, then there were times when Philza was home but no Technoblade.
They’d lost the chance to foster the growing connection they’d achieved at the ball, both wrapped up in their own lives and own goals. It all came to a head when Technoblade was reported missing-in-action after going out on a solo-mission, leaving his family distraught and Dream unsure of how to react. He’d tried not to think about it since, sticking closely to his friends to avoid the same mistake.
---
“No fucking way...Technoblade ?! The Technoblade?” Sapnap at his side somehow sounds even more shocked than Dream had been, turning to his friend for some sort of clarification, “Didn’t he go missing like almost a year ago? Dream— what...Why is he here?”
The ‘Why is he fighting us?’ goes unspoken, but it’s just one of the many questions Dream himself has for the former missing student. “That’s what I want to know too,” he stands up straight, glaring down at Technoblade.
Pig-mask no more, he’s hunched over, panting as blood drips from the shallow cut on his face. He raises a puffy white sleeve from under his “witch’s cloak” to smear against the open wound, dyeing it a bright red just like the droplets of blood that fell to the snowy ground.
“If you want to know,” he sneers, “you’ll have to beat it out of me. That trick of yours won’t work twice.”
Dream hates to admit it, but he’s right. ‘Soul Switch’ was a move they’d developed back at the academy, it was meant to be a finishing blow taking advantage of the element of surprise but...once you’ve seen it, it’s no harder to adjust to than fighting two opponents at once. Dream glances back at Sapnap and George, through the link their souls share he understands they’ve reached the same conclusion too. The trio ready themselves with Dream handing George back to Sapnap, while spinning his snowboard forward into his hands as a makeshift weapon.
Technoblade smiles, bright and wide with his sharp canines exposed to the frigid air, looking eager to keep going. With the witch-facade gone, he lets his arms glow and elongate giving way to smooth metal as he partially manifests his weapon-form: leaving his arms replaced with two hooked blades at each side.
The change in the other’s demeanor tips off Dream first, faster than Sap can communicate the growing aura around Techno’s soul. It’s enough of a warning to save both of them from being hit, as their fellow student pulls up a block of ice from underneath the snow and launches it at them with inhuman strength. The attack sends their group sprawling as it’s quickly followed up by another, and another, thanks to how effective the clawed ends of the weapon’s arms are at lifting the frozen chunks. They readily adapt though, with Sapnap and Dream alternating ‘soul switches’ to cut apart the projects ales thrown at them.
With the barrage not showing any signs of slowing down, Sapnap manages to slice through a particularly big chunk of ice to give Dream enough time to ready his snowboard for the both of them.
Over the sound of various heavy impacts, Technoblade laughs, “You think you’re getting away like that, huh, Dre--!”
A panicked scream cuts through the brief lull in combat, seemingly from within the castle itself. It catches all four of them off guard.
Dream watches as Techno stops mid-throw, the ice he held cracking and falling to the ground as his face pales with dread. And, despite the fact the pink-haired man is standing completely stock-still and open to an attack, Dream can’t will himself to do anything but watch.
Their opponent takes a single step forward, mouth open in disbelief as he murmurs the name, “...Ran...boo? ”
He stumbles on his second step, tumbling to the ground as his weaponized form dissipates, leaving human hands to dig into the snow to get back up. Techno’s eyes are downcast, but the desperation of each movement he makes is palpable as bloody lips tremble under the strain of keeping himself upright on his hands and knees, “Dammit...fuck...”
His firsts curl and with a shaky exhale, Technoblade looks up. Blood red eyes meet vivid green, as they’d both lost their masks at this point, those eyes shining with too many emotions to process at once; shame, fear, anger...and more. But, a single unspoken plea stood above all else: A plea meant for Dream.
“Please. Please, help me.”
Dream’s feet are moving before he can even process it, in seconds he’s sat in front of the fallen weapon, reaching for him with trembling fingers he also can’t just blame on the cold. He pulls the other upright, using his body to support him, but Techno pushes back at him with a hand on his shoulder. Shaking his head, he pants out, “There’s no time—”
The body in his arms glows brightly, fading to reveal the full length of a metallic blue handle dotted with small red gemstones, split at the very top into two hooked prongs and a third sharped into an arrow-shaped point between them. Dream holds the gilded trident in his hands; it’s surprisingly light and warm to the touch in a way that just feels natural. He...wouldn’t have guessed their souls were compatible.
Without thinking (or any prodding on Techno’s part) Dream rises and gives the trident an experimental swing before glancing back at his friends. George is back in his human-form, supporting Sapnap as the other meister seems to have reached his own limit. The sword-weapon nods at Dream, wordlessly signaling for him to go ahead, that they’d be fine out here.
So, he goes. Gets on his snowboard, trident in hand, and launches upwards with a powerful thrust of energy, guided by Techno’s voice in the back of his mind. His board breaks through a frosted window on the topmost floor as he zooms through the hall to a room on the far right. Once there, all it takes is a slash of the trident to all but destroy the wooden doorway blocking their entrance.
Trident already reeling back to slash at another target, Dream takes little more than a second to process the scene before him. There’s an adult in a pinstriped uniform pulling at the kicking feet of what looked to be a child hiding under blue bed sheets—
The man’s fate is sealed. The cut is seamless, unraveling the man’s body into another glowing red Kishin soul, without a single drop of blood being shed; the way only a demon-weapon could accomplish. So this is what it felt to do that yourself, huh? Sapnap was usually the one to finish off the Kishin during their missions, well, Sap and George’s missions really.
He’s jolted from his musings by the loud sniffles of the hiding child as they crawl backwards out of the bed they’d hid in. Looking around, it’s pretty clear that this is a child’s bedroom; judging from the light baby blues and countless penguin stuffed animals.
Now out of harm's way, Dream gets a good look at the kid: he looks around seven or eight, wrapped up in a long black and white scarf with a little penguin face stitched into the ends. Small hands reach back into the sheets to pull out a large, pointed, half-white and half-black witch’s hat .
Oh...oh no.
That’s all Dream gets to see as he feels the trident in his hand shifts and he finds himself once again eye-to-eye with Technoblade. The latter has his arms outstretched, protectively shielding the young boy from sight behind him.
The boy in question tenses until he realizes who’s in the room and beams, “Tech! You’re okay!”
Dream’s got a good guess as to what’s going on here, at this point. Especially as the child wraps his arms around Techno’s thigh and the weapon crumbles, hugging him tightly. There are no more tears as the two hold onto each other, soft murmurs of worry and reassurance pass between them as if they were the only ones there in that singular moment.
He lets them be for a few moments, watches Techno pull the witch of the castle into his lap and check him over for any injuries. It’s only when the boy’s heterochromatic eyes shut with sleep that Dream speaks up to ask, “So...what now?”
“We both know it’s not up to me,” Technoblade replies, eyes focused on little Ranboo as he adjusts the witch’s scarf to better guard him against the cold. “If Sapnap and George were up to it...would you...stand by and let them claim this witch’s soul?”
“No! I...I wouldn’t—“
Was that really the truth though? They’d been all gung-ho about it earlier…were even given the choice not to go on this mission, not to hunt a witch. And, even if the Witch Ranboo was a kid, they were still going to grow up eventually. Dreams thoughts drift back to what Techno had said earlier, back when they’d all been under the impression the weapon had been a witch.
“Do you...really believe what you said earlier? About witches being a threat to everything and everyone around them?”
Techno’s comforting hand on the boy in his arms stills, “I do.”
With tired eyes he glances back over to Dream and quietly reaffirms, “I do, because...I grew up with one, their blood is my blood even if I can’t be called a full witch. I know the levels of cruelty they can reach for their goals.”
“That’s absolute bullshit,” says Dream, remembering how scared the man before him looked thinking something had happened to the child-witch. “You wouldn’t be here, protecting him, if you actually fucking believed that.”
“We have the same blood, Dream. I’m just protecting my own.”
“That’s hardly true,” he lets out a frustrated sigh, getting Techno to admit to anything was like pulling teeth. So Dream decides to make the decision for him, “All I see are two hurt little kids, hardly worth the DWMA’s time.”
“Heh—“
The look on Techno’s face is priceless as he continues with teasing smirk, “ But , I could make an exception and put in a good word for both of you.” Dream’s expression softens at the end, as his tone involuntarily shifts to a quiet mutter,“...bring you back with me. If you want.”
“You…! You’re really a moron, you know that?”
He can’t help but laugh at the others reply, “And here I was trying to be nice. Way to ruin the moment, ‘Techie’.”
When Technoblade says nothing to Dream calling him by his family-nickname, he decides to cut past the teasing, stating the truth Techno probably needed to hear, “Your family’s been worried about you. You know that?”
“They…must be dumb too then.” The way he says it comes off as anything but literal. It’s a reaffirmation of the care and impact they’d had on their adopted family-member. It was the promise of a hurt man that he’d do his best to rekindle that connection despite his mistakes.
Dream was glad to hear Techno had made his choice.
“Ya, whatever you say. Let’s get out of here, it’s cold.”