Archive of Our Own ^beta

Eret grits her teeth with a sigh, resisting the urge to massage her temple to banish the coming migraine. “The answer is no, Sam, I’ve already told you, I’m not giving you the child.”

The Warden stares blankly, his Netherite gas mask obscuring his face from Eret’s sight as he stands stiffly at the foot of their throne. “It’s for the safety of the Server, Eret.” He argues plainly, “Technoblade is the only one crazy enough to break The Prisoner out, and Ranboo is one of his only attachments. I won’t harm the child, I promise, but I need him if I am to do my duty. As King, I had hoped you would be able to recognize that.”

Eret shakes his head, white knuckles gripping the arms of his throne. “I know that as Warden you must keep Dream locked up, really, I understand.” He frowns, “But what you mean to do is kidnap and threaten a child. You should know that’s not something I can allow as King.”

Sam scoffs, “Didn’t you already kidnap him? Taking him from his family’s dwelling without his fathers’ permission and all? I already told you, I won’t hurt Michael, I will return him to you the minute Ranboo is in my custody and the Server’s safety is assured.”

Eret narrows her eyes, sucking in a breath, the call of a crow echoing in the distance. “I took Michael in order to ensure his safety until his fathers return to protect him themselves. To you my answer is still No. While you started out well intentioned you’ve started down a slippery slope, you’ve become corrupt, Sam. I will not allow you to lay a hand on Michael, do you understand?”

Sam shifts, reaching for the Trident fastened to his back. “I don’t think you understand, Eret.” He growls, slamming the butt of the weapon against the floor. “For the greater good of the Dream SMP, Michael Beloved-Underscore will be coming with me. This is your final chance.”

Eret opens his mouth to speak, head beginning to throb as he stares The Warden down, but something shifts. She breathes, the air tastes foreign, lifeless, stale. She squints, the torches are too dim, flames waning in the face of the shadows that envelope the chamber. The birds are too quiet, the grass is too dry, the fields too barren. He swallows thickly. What the hell?

Movement flashes in the corner of their eye, terror flooding their mind as their hand flies up to shield their face.

Eret blinks, tilting to look over his sunglasses. Their fingers twitch, jaw dropping at the glitching trident, hovering just beyond their hand. They reach out, fingertip brushing against a point of the weapon, confusion growing as the sheen of enchantment melts away with the touch.

“What the…” They glance down, gaze lingering on Sam’s shadowy form as he stares up at them, slowly backing away from the throne.

Eret’s purpose is to protect, as King and as a friend. It's their sworn duty, their oath as monarch. They swallow, there’s a fire beneath their skin, pressing behind their eyes and smoldering in the back of their throat. She sucks in a heavy breath. The Warden is a threat. A simple truth clearly displayed by his willingness to harm a child in order to do his duty. If this misguided crusade continues, the server and its people will come to harm. Her brow furrows, heat pulsing within. She cannot allow that.

Of course, he means well, fear has simply twisted him and turned his mind to corruption. She frowns. Sam is not innocent, no one is, but he is only a threat as long as he is afraid. If the Prison is rendered null then no Warden will need to guard it, he will no longer be a slave to his duties.

Eret nods to herself, the burning beginning to subside as she makes her choice. Dream will always be a threat to everyone, even locked up as he is. As long as he lives, Tommy will still fear death at every turn, Tubbo’s paranoia will continue to grow as will his firepower, Quackity’s lust for power will dig its claws in further. So, for the greater good of the server he once cherished and all who live there, Dream must die.

Eret stands, cloak billowing in unseen wind as he marches down from his throne. He breezes past Sam, distantly enjoying the Warden’s disgruntled ‘Hey!’ as he makes his way across the chamber.

“Eret! We’re not done, get back here!” His voice shakes, giving Eret pause.

She glares over her shoulder, white eyes boring into the other. “We are. You best not be here when I return.”

Sam grunts, eyes growing wide as his legs give out. He crumples to the floor with a thud, his chest beginning to spasm, as his code warps under Eret’s gaze. He cries out, whimpering in pain.

Eret shakes his head, deep disappointment humming in the air as he turns, steady strides pulling him from the throne room without another word. The world folds, and Eret is standing just inside the prison, heat pulsing beneath her skin.

She steps forward, and again, and again. Each time finding herself in a different part of the monstrous building, the rhythmic thud of her boots against the cold stone echoing in her ears in the place of a racing heart.

Dream is a sociopath; an abusive, murderous, manipulative, sociopath. He used empty promises of better days to lure Eret to his side even as he rained TNT over the people he claimed to only want the best for. Eret sucks in a breath, fingers brushing against the smooth walls as he traces his steps through darkened corridors.

Blurry images spill into Eret’s mind, a faux smiling face leering over a broken boy. Dream broke Tommy, slowly wearing away all the passion and bluster until only a hollow shell of the boy’s former self was left in his place.

A growl rumbles in Eret’s throat, recalling an inky smile defacing a special book. Dream wormed his way into Ranboo’s mind and used him like a weapon against the people they cared most for, making them doubt themselves in every way.

Eret’s footsteps grow heavy as he marches through the dark halls. Dream enabled Wilbur’s madness, and George’s growing apathy. He abandoned his friends to hurt and die alone, even after everything they’d done for him, everything they’d been through together.

Eret sucks in an icy breath, wrath simmering beneath their skin. Dream betrayed every last one of them, every single member of this server. It's a wonder Tommy kept him alive after the Disc Confrontation; it's a wonder any of them did.

Her gaze sharpens. Well, he won’t be for much longer.

Another step and the floor is moving beneath Eret’s feet, pulling her towards a wall of lava, more secure than any door. She raises a hand to shield her face, the liquid fire glancing harmlessly off her skin as she steps into the cell.

Eret snorts, the low light of the cell doing nothing to hide the figure curled shamefully against the far wall. A single critical green eye glances up, glowing faintly in the darkness, its partner still hidden behind a shattered mask.

“Eret…” Dream rasps, his false calm unable to hide the spark of hope in his voice, “Come to torture me?” A dry laugh bubbles in his throat, grating against Eret’s ears with every hopeless wheeze. “Or maybe… to get me out?” His voice cracks, “You know, you were the last persona I expected, but I did make you king, didn’t I. You really owe it all to me, don’t you. Come to pay back your debt, your majesty?”

Eret stares, face impassive as he watches Dream writhe in his own skin. There’s a half eaten potato gripped loosely in pale hands, fingers twitching numbly with every hitched breath the prisoner takes. A pool of dried blood surrounds him, streaks of rusty brown covering the orange prison clothes The Warden provided. Eret frowns, pity tugging at his boiling heart. Perhaps this will be best for everyone, even Dream.

“I owe you nothing, Dream.” Eret rumbles, towering over the man.

Dream’s eyes grow wide, a violent flinch pulling him away from the lava’s light.

“You betrayed everyone, this entire server of people you once called your friends and for what?” Eret sighs, taking a smooth step forward. “Power? Control?”

Dream’s eye grows wide, emaciated hands scrambling for purchase against the Netherite bricks. “Woah, woah, woah, Eret, what-”

“Shush!” Eret snaps, bringing a single finger to their lips. “What about Sapnap and George?”

Dream’s eyes narrow.

“You were best friends, one could even say you loved each other. Yet you gave up that love. They fought by your side and you gave that up. You played with Fundy’s heart, knowing how he felt about you, how you felt about him-” Eret hisses, “And you still let him go, when he needed you most, you let him go.” They grimace, Fundy’s heartbroken sobs echoing in their mind’s ear. “Tommy just wanted a friend, and instead you hurt him. You know Tommy, how far his loyalty goes, and instead you chose to see him hurt, just for the fun of it!”

Eret sighs, disappointment stinging beneath their skin. “The thing is, Dream. It doesn’t matter who’s king or president, this is still your Server. Still the Dream SMP. Even Tommy and Wilbur, even back during the independence war all they wanted was to be your friend. All any of us wanted was to be your friend!”

Eret’s mouth snaps shut, glowering at Dream. “You know,” She chuckles, “I thought I knew what I was doing in The Final Control Room, that what I did, even if people got hurt, would protect the server in the end.” She turns, glare boring into Dream. “I was wrong then,” She nods, regret burning within, “But I’m not wrong now. I know what I have to do.”

Dream opens his mouth, silent pleas forming on his lips as he presses himself further against the wall.

Eret grabs Dream by the collar and pulls him into the air, forcing the monster to look him in the eye. “In the end, there was always one thing that held this server back,” He whispers, letting their sunglasses slide down to reveal the fire reflected in their pearlescent eyes, “And that was you, Dream. Not Tommy, not Wilbur, or Tubbo or Technoblade or me.” He bites back a furious sob. “It was you.” Eret glares, “Down with tyrants. You’re no God, Dream, it was never meant to be.”

Dream thrashes against their hold, begging to be let go as drops of lava rain from above, appearing from thin air to flood the cramped cell. Eret stares sadly, lava glancing harmless off their frame as Dream screams and claws at their hold. The smell of burnt flesh permeates the air as drops of fire burn into Dream’s skin, his signature mask melting to his face as he cries for the mercy that he never gave to another.

Eret stands breathless, like a statue in the rain of fire, holding him there until she distantly hears the ping of her communicator among the roar of the lavafall.

[Dream Tried to Swim in Lava]