Archive of Our Own ^beta

This is the last place Dream wanted to be, walking along the streets of Manberg to Schlatt’s dumb office. The extravagant work space in the middle of the nation disgusted him, as the man himself wasn’t worth nearly as much as his possessions, which he probably didn’t even gather himself. L’Manberg never had areas like this. Wilbur and Tommy weren’t interested in this type of arrogance; they’d probably blow up this area specifically. It looks like Schlatt only fixed up this area for himself, leaving other areas to rot. He prays to Prime for the poor soul who had to suffer making this so quick.

Dream finally reaches the regal two-door entrance to his office, looking around in distaste through his mask. He lets out a sigh and knocks, returning his hands to his dark green hoodie pocket.

The door opens almost immediately to a ram horn-headed figure, with a sleazy look in his eyes and a shit-eating grin on his face. “Dream! Glad you could make it!” 

“Schlatt,” Dream replies with far less (read: none) enthusiasm, rolling his eyes under the mask. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“What? Two political figures can’t just sit around with a cup of whiskey and chit chat?” Schlatt laughs, opening the door for Dream to step in. Without hesitance, he steps in and takes in the inside of the man’s office. It looks a little too much and there are heads of deer and boar mounted on the wall, seeming to stare at him. It’s unsettling, even for him, who walks around with a smiley mask most of the time. How does one work in a room like this?

“No offense, but I don’t particularly want to sit around and ‘chit chat’ with you,” Dream snorts, not caring if he offends him at all. “And I don’t drink.”

“Sheesh, there’s no need to be such a dick about it, huh?” Schlatt laughs it off, still putting on that awful smile on his face. He walks over to the other side of his desk and sits in his large, leather chair. “But fine, take a seat.”

Dream sighs and walks over to one of the two smaller chairs sitting across from his desk. He makes himself comfortable, showcasing a nonchalant attitude. Once he sits, he opens up his arms and lays them on the armrest, as if to say, “Well, go on.”

Schlatt huffs, a sneer making its way onto his face. He opens a drawer in his desk, takes out a book, and roughly throws it down onto his desk. The book looks ancient, dust flying up from the tome when it hits the desk.

Dream peers at the book, only showing slight interest. He crosses his arms and leans back more into the chair. “So… what? You called me here just so you could show me a book?”

“Yeah, I called you here so we could have a fun little book club,” Schlatt mocks, tone too malicious to be considered friendly sarcasm. “No, dumbass, it’s what I found in the book.”

“And what does that have to do with me ?” Dream scoffs. “We’re on opposing sides; there’s no way I would-”

“It has some interesting information about you , Dream ,” Schlatt interrupts, sneering as he says the blonde’s name, reaching out for the book again. “Something, something, about you and, ah shit , what did they call it?” The ram-horned man pretends to think, tapping a finger on his chin and waving the book around in a circle, dust floating around in the sunlight. “Oh, right – a revival book!”

The casually annoyed and confident aura Dream held drops, causing the man to stiffen in place. Schlatt narrows his eyes at the minute reaction, clearly looking for one in the first place. Thankfully, Dream wore his mask everywhere, so he couldn’t see Dream’s eyes widen or his lips draw into a straight line.

“A revival book?” Dream asks, deadpan.

“Yep!” Schlatt pops the ‘p’. He taps on the book  “And it also so happens to mention that it’s not even a book at all. That it’s actually a ritual performed by someone that ‘harbors the essence and runes to complete the ritual,’” he uses air quotes. “Seems like a load of bullshit, to be honest.” Dream stays stoically silent.

Schlatt shrugs, then leans back in his chair. “But then I did some more digging and from all the context clues in this here book… all signs lead back to you, Dream.”

Dream scoffs, tilting his head with a disbelieving look under his mask. “You’re really gonna let some random book fool you into, what? Making you believe I can bring people back to life? That thing looks ancient, how could it be about me?” Dream hums contemplatively, sitting back in his chair with a forced air of confidence. He puts on a cocky smile, makes sure the tone can be heard even through the mask. “And I thought you were smart, Schlatt .”

“Oh, I am,” Schlatt laughs humorlessly. “In fact, you're right! I didn’t want to believe what some dumb book said, so I did my own research, like I said,” the grin on Schlatt’s face turns more sinister. “Plus… one of my little birdies saw those runes on your back.” 

Dream immediately stiffens again, but tries to hide it. No one has gotten this close to knowing before. Where did he even get this book in the first place? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, Dream… come on ,” Schlatt says with faux sympathy and an evil grin. “They transcribed the ones they saw. It matches the ritual this book talks about, too. You can’t hide from this,” he then casually shrugs as if this doesn’t matter. “But if you really claim it’s not you, just show me your arms. Maybe I’ll believe ya,” Schlatt grins, giving Dream a once over. “But if you refuse to show them, I think both of us know what that means.”

The blonde closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. There’s no hiding from it anymore. He can only hope this is the only bit of information he knows about him, though. “Alright, looks like you’ve caught me,” Dream forces out, chuckling humorlessly and opening up his arms. “I’m an open book.”

Schlatt hums with an eye roll, then taps his fingers on his desk. He didn’t appreciate, nor care, for the joke, apparently. “And I’ll just so happen to let the information slip out if you don’t… do me a little favor .”

“No,” Dream shakes his head, clenching his fists. “This information isn’t getting out of this room.”

“Well, too bad,” Schatt coos. “I’ve already sent for both Fundy and Karl to come here soon, and if you don’t agree to my deal, I’ll tell them and have them spread it to everyone on the server.”

Dream really doesn’t want to agree to the deal, but he knows how divided this information about him will make the people on the server. Some will want him dead, saying something like him shouldn’t exist. Some will want to send him away. Some will want to use him for his power. Some will try to find out more.

Division like that is the last thing Dream wants. He’s only wanted peace for his family. That's all he's ever wanted.

He also knows that if he doesn’t agree, Schlatt will try to look into him more, try to find ways for him to crack. Dream can’t risk Schlatt, or anyone else, finding out anything more than he already knows. Schlatt is a dumbass, but he's evil, manipulative, and is able to get what he wants. If he could get his grimy hands on this book, who knows what else he could find?

“Fine,” Dream shrugs, looking calmer than he feels. “What’s your deal?”

“I need you to make sure Manberg stays afloat,” Schlatt leans forward with a satisfied smirk. “If any… conflicts or wars were to arise, you’ll be here to protect her and make sure nothing happens here.”

He thinks of Pogtopia, and all of the people that escaped Schlatt to be there. He thinks of what would happen if people found out what he was. He thinks of his family. He thinks of their blessings and their curses.

“Alright, fine,” Dream steadies himself by putting his hands on his knees and standing up. He points an aggressive finger towards him. “But this does not leave this room. You can’t tell Fundy or Karl, either.”

“Of course, big guy,” Schlatt agrees easily, before mocking Dream once more, even after Dream has already turned to leave. “It’s not like you can hurt me, though. You’re a book of life, not death.”

The sound of Dream’s boots scuff on the floor from where he abruptly stops, then he chuckles darkly. A bright green glow starts to emit from his back, bright enough to shine through the hoodie he was wearing. The room itself seems to darken around them, any lights in the room flickering off, sunlight suddenly not reaching inside anymore. Schlatt’s smirk fades and his eyes widen, looking around the room in shock. Everything seems to come to a sudden halt - no sounds from outside, wind whooshing in his ears. Pressure builds up in his head.

“You don’t think you should be scared of me?” Dream’s voice sounds lower, gravely. He quickly turns around and walks to stand directly in front of Schlatt’s desk, slamming his hands on it. Dream’s eyes glow a bright green, visible even through the drawn-on eyes of the mask. His chest and arms are glowing in the same way his back is, runes blurry through the hoodie he wore. The horns on the top of Dream’s head are suddenly much more visible, as they lay closer to the top of his head, and Schlatt can see them easier when Dream’s threateningly leaning down. “You don’t think you should be scared of me?”

Schlatt’s eyes widened impossibly more hearing the distorted voice, any traces of a mirth gone from his face. Finally, he lost the confidence he’s been exuding this entire meeting, thinking he had the upper hand – when, in fact, he didn’t. The sudden change makes Dream smile wickedly, high on the adrenaline it brings. Icarus' wings have burnt up and he's falling towards the ground.

“Just because we have a little deal doesn’t mean I won’t kill you,” Dream laughs in his distorted voice, leaning in closer to the trembling man in front of him. The bright green light reflects in Schlatt’s eyes and the sweat building on his forehead. “Because I can kill you, and bring you back, and kill you again, and bring you back again, over and over and over again.”

Dream takes a moment to soak in the terrified look on the other man’s face once more, before chuckling and turning back towards the door. As he reaches for the doorknob, the glowing fades and his voice returns back to normal. The lights flicker back on, sunlight shines through the window. A bird chirping can be faintly heard from outside, as if nothing godly happened in the room. “Don’t forget who has the real power here, Schlatt. Have a good rest of your day.”

Then he rips open the door, slamming it shut as he leaves, leaving Schlatt to wildly catch his breath and try to compose himself in his office.

—

Days of fighting and preparations followed after Dream told the Pogtopians that he was allied with Schlatt. 

On the day the battle was meant to take place, Dream was informed by Karl that Eret would be siding with Pogtopia. He marched over to the castle, along with Punz, George, and Callahan, demanding that he step down from his position. After refusing, Dream and Punz dethroned him themselves.

George mostly stood back, bow taught and arrows ready to fire in case something went wrong. He let Dream do all of the talking, as usual, more than okay to only offer his threatening presence by dutifully standing beside him.

After chasing Eret from the castle, Dream and Punz quickly reenter, Dream obviously looking for something while Punz looks more casual. Once Dream sees George, he perks up and makes a beeline to him.

“George!” Dream says, excitedly opening up his arms. 

“Yeah?” George tilts his head, confused about his sudden change in temperament. He lowers his bow and takes a few steps closer to the blonde.

“You’re king!” Dream exclaims, barely a millisecond after George responded. He’s barely a foot in front of George now.

The brunette’s face drops in shock, mouth going slack. “ I’m king?”

“Yeah!” Dream spins around on his foot, with his arms open, gesturing to the entirety of the castle. Usually, George finds Dream's excitement contagious, along with his laugh, his smile, his tears. This is not one of those times. “This entire castle is yours!”

George can only blankly stare at Dream’s back in front of him. He feels Callahan’s and Punz’s eyes on him, but he can only stare at the blonde in shock. There's a fog of confusion clouding his brain, so he shakes his head, trying to clear it. “Wait, what?”

Dream turns back to him, a fond look on his face, seemingly oblivious or intentionally ignoring George's emotions. “Follow me, we can go to your throne,” he gently grabs onto George’s wrist, pulling him along to the throne room. Punz and Callahan silently follow behind them.

Once they get there, Dream gestures for George to stand in front of the throne. He then puts down his enderchest. “I know Eret refused to take off their crown, but that shouldn’t be a problem. All that time ago, when we were deciding the chain of command, I didn’t realize how little you wanted to be King,” Dream throws an apologetic glance towards George as he’s rifling in his chest, who only rolls his eyes with a huff. “I… honestly wanted you to be King first, so I already had this made for you. I’m glad it’s actually going to see the light of day.”

When Dream turns around, he’s holding a beautiful shining gold crown. There are large sapphires layered on the side, with smaller ruby and emerald gems on the side of the crown. George gasps, not knowing Dream had anything like this. “You… had this made for me?”

The back of Dream’s neck and tips of his ears immediately flush red. He rubs at the back of his neck with his free hand as George grins wickedly up at him. “Yeah,”

George's smile softens, although he still wants to make fun of him. It’s cute, but George won’t say that, as his feelings about being King are still not entirely positive. Deciding that he’ll let Dream’s embarrassment go for now, he crosses his arms and leans on his left leg, rolling his eyes fondly. If this is what Dream wanted of him, then... “Well, are you going to crown me with it, or what?”

Dream looks up at him in surprise, then he quickly composes himself. “Okay,” he says, mostly to himself. He moves to stand in front of the throne next to George. Punz and Callahan situate themselves on either side of the throne, ready to support George in this new chapter of their lives. George wishes Sapnap could be here, too.

Standing in front of each other now, Dream silently nods at George’s mushroom hat. George’s eyes widen slightly, as he forgot he was even wearing it, and quickly removes it to hold in front of him. George then looks up at Dream with his big doe eyes, slightly damp on their own accord.

Dream clears his throat. There's no time for any fancy ceremonials or heartfelt speeches; they have a war to fight in barely an hour. “I hereby crown you,” he says quietly, just between them, before raising his voice. “King George!”

Punz and Callahan cheer and clap in the vacant throne room as Dream gently rests the crown on George’s head. Dream reaches up to softly brush a strand of hair behind his ear, making George bite down on a smile.

The crown looks perfect on George’s head, like it was meant to be there.

“Congratulations!” Dream exclaims, grabbing onto George’s shoulders, then pushing him to go towards the throne. Punz and Callahan continue to celebrate.

George steps directly in front of the throne, taking a deep breath and wringing his hands on the brim of his mushroom hat. He stares at the golden throne matching his golden crown. George… doesn’t want to be King. He’s never wanted to be King. But if Dream is asking him to, then he’ll do it for him, of course. Then, he gingerly turns around and sits himself down on his throne.

The three men immediately bend a knee, bowing to their new king. George looks at the three of them timidly, unsure how it got to this point, unsure if he would be a good King.

Yet, once it’s all done, they’re reminded that they’re still in a war. Dream talks to Punz about something unrelated to him, mentioning something about Sapnap, so he looks down at his mushroom hat in his lap. He still doesn’t know what to make of this whole thing – this war in general. Callahan observes him from the side of the throne, unnoticed by George.

“George,” Dream says sternly, but softly. Punz and Callahan are still in the room, talking and signing to each other. George looks up from his mushroom hat, already feeling weighed down by the new crown on his head. George’s slightly damp, brown eyes meet Dream’s mask, looking between the two painted eyes hoping to see something familiar behind that mask. “Can I speak to you in private, please?”

—

“You should stay here,” Dream told George after leading him away with a hand on his shoulder. “The battle won’t be safe. And you’re King now, so it would be best for you to stay here, protect our home, just in case.” 

“What?” George immediately retaliates with a frown and furrowed brow. “No way! I’m helping you. There’s no way I’m just going to sit here and wait for you to fight our battles by yourself!”

“George…” Dream starts, softer than before. He lifts a hand to his mask, sighs, preparing himself for his next move. He slowly removes the mask from his face, bringing it down to his side.

Finally, George sees the familiar scars on his face again, the ones George used to run his fingers along late at night, huddled in their bed together. Finally, he sees the worry lines in his face, more noticeable with the frown he wears now. The bags under his eyes are deep, deep enough to rival even George’s. The most noticeable thing, however, is how one of his eyes is faintly glowing a bright green. Runes are also slightly noticeable in his eyes, but only if you look close enough and know what to look for. It’s all very minuscule, but George knows Dream’s normal appearance like the back of his hand.

George gasps, hands moving up to hold Dream’s face, but stopping himself before he allows himself to touch. It’s been so long since they allowed themselves any sort of intimacy like this. “Dream…”

Dream’s hands come up to wrap around George’s wrists, bringing his hands up to meet his face, himself. George immediately rubs his thumbs along his cheekbones as Dream melts into the touch.

“What happened, Dream? Did you… did you use it?” George asks, worriedly looking between Dream’s eyes.

“No, no, I just…” the blonde sighs, breaking eye contact, but still holding tightly onto his wrists. “Schlatt found out, somehow, uh – a while ago. That’s why I agreed to fight for Manberg, honestly. He said he found a book that mentioned the Revival Book and one of his dumb spies saw the runes on my back.”

George’s eyebrows fly up in shock. “So, he… does he know about–?”

“No,” Dream immediately cuts him off, meeting his eyes again. He starts to rub comforting circles into the insides of George’s wrist. “He only mentioned me. I don’t know if he knows anything else. That’s why I agreed so quickly, as well. I didn’t want to risk him digging deeper.”

“Then why are you–?” George cuts himself off, gesturing to Dream’s own face with his chin.

Dream blushes and chuckles embarrassedly. “I, uh, sort of went all out to – to threaten him into keeping it between us. He was being annoying and cocky, so…”

George giggles, lips quirking up in a slight smile. “Always have to be such a drama queen, huh? Maybe you should be the one wearing this crown right now.”

The blonde huffs, but smiles at George nevertheless. “Whatever. I kind of hope the Pogtopians are able to kill Schlatt, because if I did it, I think they would be mad or twist it around somehow if I did.”

“Hm,” George hums, thinking about the outcomes this war could have. He’s right about people commonly twisting his words and actions around to fit their own narrative. That means Dream killing Schlatt would be out of the question. “Do you think they’re capable?”

Dream sighs, looking up as he thinks. George’s hands move down to rest between his neck his shoulders, and Dream’s hands naturally move to rest on his waist. “I honestly don’t know. You know about our plan with Wilbur and Techno, but they’re kind of a wild card. I can only hope that that part of the plan will actually work, too. I have no idea if they’d all be congruent enough to kill or even just get to Schlatt,” Dream cracks a smile at George. “He’s like a little weasel.”

His joke makes George laugh softly, and he smiles weakly up at Dream. “True. I hope they’re able to do something, then.”

—

Once everyone leaves, George sits by himself on the large throne in the castle. He looks around the large, extravagant stone structure surrounding him. No candles are lit, the only light coming through the windows, but otherwise the room is bathed in shadows. It's eerie and gloomy and George feels alone. This reminds him too much of something from his past, something they all escaped from.

He takes the crown off of his head, examining the blue, green, and red gems on the side. It’s like the Dream Team , George thinks, making himself smile. Then he thinks about how, again, he’s left behind while others fight battles instead of him. George knows why Dream wants him to stay back, but it still frustrates him.

George’s hands clench around the crown, letting out a frustrated noise. He’s not going to just sit here and do nothing again. There’s a way for him to help – something Dream will get mad at him for. But he has to, for Dream. 

Dream has done so much for him, for their family. He’s bloodied his hands time and time again for their safety, so they could all just live together peacefully. George can’t let him burden that all by himself.

Firmly making his decision, he puts the crown back on his head and leaves his mushroom hat on the throne. With hurried steps, he heads to the enchanting room deep within the castle, mostly unused by anyone else. Once he gets there, he starts lighting candles around the room. Taking a dagger from his side pouch, he cuts a line into his palm over a bowl, letting blood drip down into it.

With his blood, he draws a symbol on the stone floor, then puts a few of the candles he lit inside certain parts of the symbol. Once he’s done, he takes a deep breath as he judges the ritual he set up. George finally deems it’s perfect and he walks over to the table he set up to the side and leans on it with his palms for a few moments, going over the next steps. It’s been a very long time since he’s done this.

George takes off his cape, which already feels heavier with the weight of kingship, even though he’s had it for most of his life and is full of moss and mushrooms, and lays it on the edge of the table. He lays his goggles on top of the cape and grabs his crown next. He tries not to contemplatively stare at it for too long again, and lays it down next to his goggles. He starts unbuttoning his shirt next.

Despite still being energetic and comedic and kind, George has always carried an air of death around him. From the dark bags permanently under his eyes to the mushrooms that grew on and around him. The symbols of the dead and decaying have followed him since he was a child. Sometimes it feels like he's always mourning the dead, catching himself randomly crying when nothing has happened to him or anyone around him. He would wake up from a deep sleep with tears streaking down his face, unable to remember why. Sometimes he sleeps for too many hours, sometimes even days at a time, embracing the closest thing he could get to eternal sleep itself more than most. It's not like he can help it, unfortunately.

When the last button is unfastened, he pulls his arms out of the shirt sleeves, showcasing his bare torso. Bright blue runes cover the expanse of George’s back. They run along his shoulders, down his arms, down his back, and across the upper part of his chest. They’re different from the runes on Dream’s body, but only slightly.

Once the shirt is completely off, he folds it neatly with the rest of his clothes. As he turns around, he’s startled to come face to face with Callahan, who has a weary and slightly disappointed look on his face.

“Callahan,” George starts, taking a step forward. He signs along with talking out loud. “You have to let me do this.”

Callahan stares silently at George and around the room for a moment, with a sad look on his face. “ George, ” he signs, taking a step into the room and closing the door behind him. “You know the consequences of this. What will Dream think?”

“Dream is exactly why I’m doing this!” he begs Callahan to understand, his hands moving in an angrier manner than normal. “He’s always the one shouldering the burden, always the one doing the dirty work for us . It’s not fair. We need to help him – I need to help him. I’m the only one that can,” George seems to deflate, but barges on as if this is the first time he's been able to voice his frustrations to anyone in a long time. It probably was. "And I'm tired, Calla. I'm tired of always being stuck in these petty wars. I want it to be over, for this to end. I want all of us to settle down. Hell, we could even just build a house and have farm in the middle of the woods away from all this for all I care. I just... don't want us to hurt anymore. We - we deserve a happy ending, after everything we've been through."

Callahan sighs, knowing what George is saying is true. He wonders how long George as been bottling this up. His sign language matches the initial anger and ferocity of George’s. “You know how long it took you to recover the last time you did this. Who are you going to–?”

“Schlatt,” George cuts him off with a sneer and an eye-roll. “He knows about Dream being the revival book. Dream said he’s the only one that knows, and that the only reason we sided with him was because he found out.”

That makes Callahan’s eyebrows shoot upwards. “How?” he signs, then shakes his hands around in a wildly questioning manner.

“I don’t know,” George sighs, putting his hands on his hips, clearly stressing out.

“Does he know about–?”

“No,” George shakes his head, trying to calm down and sign normally. “Just Dream.”

Callahan sighs in relief, dropping his arms down to his side. Then he tentatively lifts his arms up again, signing, “And… you’re going to keep it that way?”

George’s eyes light up with hope, then he nods with newfound determination. “Yes. Are you going to–” he stutters, hesitantly holding onto his own hands for a moment before continuing, taking another step closer to his friend. “Will you stand by me?”

“Of course,” Callahan solemnly vows, a smirk spreading on his face. 

George smiles gratefully at him, eyes watering slightly. His eyes have always watered so easily, like he was always in mourning. There’s a slight shine to Callahan’s as well. He walks over to put a hand on Callahan’s shoulder. “Thank you, Calla, seriously.”

And with that, George goes to sit cross-legged in the middle of the symbol he drew on the floor, resting his hands in an upward position on his knees. Callahan walks over to watch from the corner of the room, trying his best not to get in the way. He stands still, stoic, and tries his best not to show how much of a ball of anxiety he is on the inside, something he couldn’t voice aloud even if he wanted to.

George takes a deep breath, then begins to chant the incantation in the Ancient Ones’ language, the language of the runes and long forgotten by most. As he does, the runes on his chest, on his back, and along his arms begin to glow. He recites the words that have been ingrained in his brain longer than he could even remember, voice becoming slightly distorted, and the whole room becomes overwhelmed by the bright blue light. All of the candles in the room blow out, except he ones inside his symbol that flicker wildly, yet never snuff out. He starts to say the incantation faster, and his body levitates off of the floor, still in his sitting position, and his hair floats upwards, like he was in zero-gravity.

A couple feet in the air, George’s eyes whip open, shining a bright blue, irises not visible anymore. His hands clap together in a praying motion as he says the incantation one more time, quicker, louder, and in more voices than all of the rest.

The energy in the room is overwhelming. Papers lying around get caught up in the energy, flying around the room in George's own wind vortex. Miscellaneous small items are also thrown around, and Callahan has to shield himself with his arms to make sure nothing accidentally hits him. The worst, however, is the sound. Mixed with George’s loud reciting coming out in multiple distorted voices, loud static is ringing out in the room, forcing Callahan to cover his ears as well. 

It’s not like he hasn’t seen this before, but it’s been so long… It's jarring.

Abruptly, everything stops. The static, the ringing in his ears, the light, the wind… it all stops. And with it, George goes crashing to the ground.

—

“Schlatt’s an idiot,” Dream says to Wilbur, standing at the side of the battlefield after a failed invisibility play. They’re within range of all of their troops, anxiously watching both of their de facto leaders talk things out.

Wilbur laughs, unbelieving that someone as smart as Dream could just be coming to this conclusion now . “We’ve been down this road before.”

“Well,” Dream relents, rolling his eyes. “He’s a bigger idiot than you would think.” That makes Wilbur raise an eyebrow, but before he could question it, Dream continues. “I thought siding with him would be… you know, I gave him a bunch of netherite and weapons and just… where is he?” Dream gestures to the group of people near them. “Do you see him?”

“Uh,” Wilbur squints over at them, doing a quick headcount. “I don’t see him.”

“Yeah,” Dream nods, looking disappointed. Wilbur narrows his eyes at him, not knowing if he’s disappointed in Schlatt or himself or both. He wishes Dream would take off the mask every now and then again, so he could better try to judge and understand the man's expressions and body language, but it’s been months since he’s last seen his face. Dream takes a deep breath, steadying himself before looking back at Wilbur. “Come on.”

Wilbur follows Dream to their group of forces, interested in where this is going. “What did you want to tell them, Dream?”

Dream looks over the group of people before him. He wishes things could be different. He thinks things could be different if they could just be unified about one thing. “I… we surrender. Schlatt is an idiot.” Everyone starts talking, but Dream raises his voice. “And I need to show you all something. Wilbur, follow me.”

“Can everyone come?” Wilbur asks, knowing people are going to join no matter what. As Dream leads the way, people are already just following without given permission, and voicing that they’re coming anyways. Dream leads them to the remnants of Schlatt’s fancy office, kicking open the double doors. Wilbur notes how awful this office is, how he'd love to see it burn. Tommy asks if this is a trap, before all of them file in to see an armorless Schlatt leaning against his desk, clearly intoxicated. He has a wild look in his eyes and a half empty drink in his hands. A bunch of empty bottles already litter the office.

As everyone piles in, they voice their surprise, their disgust, their shock.

“What are you doing?” Wilbur asks, a slight laugh in his voice. This cannot be real.

“What’s going on?” Quackity asks, in shock. Now, Quackity – he knows his drinking habits. Hell, he’s been at the receiving end of the stick more than enough times to know. It’s one of the many reasons why he left the bastard. He’s never seen him this… sick, though. And he’s seen him go through bottle after bottle before, more than what’s on the floor now. This is entirely different.

As everyone makes their own jokes or worrying comments, Wilbur asks, “Is this what you wanted to show me, Dream?”

When Wilbur looks at the man in question, he only has eyes for Schlatt. He looks tense, more than he has been. 

“Uh…” Dream shakes himself out of his own train of thought. “Yes."

“Is this your leader, Dream?” Tommy laughs.

Dream scoffs. “No, this is not my leader.”

They continue to make jokes, but Wilbur solemnly asks, “Should I end this, Dream?”

Dream smiles victoriously behind the mask. This is what he’s been waiting for. “I mean, you don’t have to, but–”

Dream is cut off once Schlatt’s eyes snap up to see the fox creature standing amongst Wilbur’s men. Dream lets out a little huff of annoyance - they were so close. “Fundy?! Come here you little shit!” He pushes himself off the table, trying to get to him, but Quackity interferes, pushing Schlatt back towards the desk. Schlatt throws insults over Quackity’s shoulder, despite Quackity’s own yelling.

“You had a dream and I followed it! I thought you were something!” Fundy yells, being held back by Eret and Ponk. 

“Yeah, I am something,” Schlatt laughs, before stumbling onto the ground and coughing violently. He picks himself up ungracefully, leaning heavily against his desk again. “I’m something you could never be. A man. ”

Chaos immediately erupts inside the office, everyone yelling at Schlatt, then Wilbur goes to stand in front of Fundy with his sword drawn at the hammered man in front of them. “Alright, alright. I don’t care what you have to say, Dream, I’m ending this now. Are you ready to fucking die, Schlatt?” Wilbur then turns to Tommy, telling him that he should kill him with Dream’s bow. 

Schlatt continues to cough violently, curling up into himself. Quackity looks back at the ram-horned man, who looks pale and pathetic, seeing blood on his fist. “Whoa, Schlatt, calm down!”

“You know, if I die,” Schlatt starts, pushing past Quackity’s misplaced concern, ignoring him completely again. He wipes blood from the corner of his mouth, smirking. “This country comes down with me.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Tommy says forcefully, but still trembling with the fear that his home could, once and for all, be destroyed. He holds his bow aimed at Schlatt strong, but unsteady.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, Tommy Innit,” Schlatt laughs, then immediately is forced into another coughing fit.

Sapnap looks at Dream, who is staring at Schlatt with an unusual amount of stress in his shoulders. Something isn’t right. He grabs onto Dream’s sleeve, but he doesn’t budge.

“We could have had everything!” Quackity exclaims, finally exploding from Schlatt's complete ignorance of him, and starts arguing with Schlatt about his abuse towards him. Schlatt only refutes his claims with joking or mocking comments, easily getting a rise out of Quackity. Wilbur looks in between them and Dream and Sapnap in the corner. He quickly analyzes the situation, then leans down to whisper into Tommy’s ear, making him only slightly jump. “Hold on a minute. I think Dream might have a plan.”

Tommy looks back at him out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean?”

Before he can speak again, Quackity faces the two of them. “Just do it, Tommy! Just kill him!”

The room explodes in different opinions. 

“Just kill him!” 

“Get it over with!” 

“Maybe there’s another way!”

“Wait,” Wilbur yells, making everyone else shut up. “Schlatt, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Dream acknowledges Wilbur by tilting his head in his direction, but keeps his eyes on Schlatt. This could end without any of them having done anything. It’s almost… too good to be true. 

Everyone immediately looks at Schlatt, who looks much worse than he did only moments ago. His skin is much paler and his coughs sound even worse. His hands come back bloody from each cough. His face is covered in sweat, as well as the rest of his body. The breaths coming out of him are ragged at best, as he's clearly having a hard time breathing, as well.

“Schlatt?” Dream finally questions, stepping closer to the stumbling man.

“Does anyone smell that?” the man in question asks, barely conscious or taking in his surroundings.

“Is he having a stroke?” Eret questions, also taking a step closer.

“It’s – it’s like… rotten eggs,” Schlatt continues, as if no one is talking to him. His next coughing fit forces him to his knees on the ground. Quackity doesn’t bother helping him this time.

His coughs get worse, eventually turning into dry-heaving. Various people in the room call out his name, before Schlatt slumps over onto the ground, unmoving.

It’s all silence, until all hell breaks loose. The room is filled with yelling and shock, and Tubbo’s voice rings out the loudest. “Did he just have a heart attack?!”

Everyone in Wilbur’s faction continues to voice out their shock and concern, some people laughing in disbelief, some too shocked to speak. Wilbur dies of laughter at the fact that this feared leader just died in front of them from a heart attack , no glory in that at all.

“Sapnap,” Dream says, voice strained.

The grip on Dream’s arm tightens, then he pulls in the direction of the door. “We need to go.”

The fire-born leads them to the door, Punz seeing and following them out. It goes unnoticed by everyone else in the room. They leave after hearing Jack say, “Wow, he died of natural causes.”

“Dream, that wasn’t from natural causes,” Sapnap immediately says once they’re out of hearing distance. The trio stand together, as Dream obviously looks more worried than usual. 

“I know.”

“He said he smelt sulfur–”

“I know!” Dream yells, starting to pace back and forth. “We’re still not done here, but that was – that couldn’t have been –” 

Punz looks worriedly between the two brothers-in-arms. He knows their history and secrets, of course, despite not finding them until after everything the self-proclaimed Dream Team has gone through. “I think Callahan is with him.”

Dream and Sapanp immediately whip their heads towards him, so Punz goes on to explain. “I haven’t seen him this entire fight, and he's clearly not here now. I’m pretty sure he stayed back with George. He probably sensed something was off with him."

Dream immediately deflates, somewhat comforted by the fact that someone is with him, somewhat disappointed he didn’t notice it himself.

“He’s right,” Sapnap says, nodding thankfully towards Punz. “Callahan is with him and making sure he’s okay. We need to stay here, Dream. As much as we all want to make sure he’s okay – if he even did anything at all–”

Dream groans, putting his masked-head in his hands. “There’s no way it wasn’t him. You saw Schlatt. There’s no way that was a stroke or a heart attack. But this isn’t over. We still have Plan B and we’re long from finished,” he pulls at his hair, letting out a frustrated yell. “ Prime , why did he do that?”

“Dream…” Sapnap starts softly, like talking to a wild animal. “You asked him to stay in the castle. He wanted to help us – to help you.”

The blonde sighs, nervously twitching his fingers, itching to fidget with something. Or punch something. Sapnap is right, of course. If it were him, there’s no way he could’ve stayed in that castle while everyone else was fighting. He just couldn’t help but want to protect George, the most important person to him, the one he’s doing this all for.

Before Dream could say anything else, the rest of the citizens come out of Schlatt’s office, talking about a new presidency and a speech and something about Tommy. They rush them all the way to the podium of, once again called, L’Manberg. Dream looks to Wilbur, who was already staring at him, and says with a fake smile. “Guess I lied about that traitor, huh, Wilbur?”

Wilbur hums. “I guess so.”

A part of Dream wishes it could end here. That his deal with Wilbur and Techno could go void, after the death of Schlatt. Then the speeches start.

—

George wakes to someone shaking his shoulder. He feels both too hot and too cold at the same time. His entire body hurts, especially from where he’s slumped over on the hard, stone floor. It feels like his brain is painfully hammering against his skull.

As he comes to, slowly blinking his eyes open, he sees the blurry figure of Callahan worriedly sitting before him. Callahan waves his hand in front of his face, then signs something, but it’s too blurry. George tries to squint, but it’s still too blurry.

“Callahan?” he asks, voice hoarse. “I can’t see what you’re saying.”

Callahan huffs at that clearly mixed up statement. He holds onto George in his lap. George’s face and chest are slightly sweaty, his hair as well. The runes on his body are still glowing. But his eyes… Those are what changed the most.

One of his previously brown eyes has turned a deep blue. The whites of his eyes glow a faint blue, still. Small runes glow bright blue in his irises, making it hard to make eye contact, even for Callahan.

Callahan pulls at one of the deer horns on his head, a nervous habit he has mostly stopped doing. Then he signs, “ How about now?”

“Oh, yeah!” George giggles, a little delirious, then winces and lets out a whine. “Ow, that hurt. Everything hurts.”

“I know,” Callahan sighs, relieved that George is relatively okay. “What do you remember?”

“Uh,” George groans as he tries to sit up. “Not much… I did it again, didn’t I?” Callahan only nods, then George puts his head in his hands. “Thank you for looking after me again.”

That makes Callahan bittersweetly smile. He and George have actually been friends the longest, and he’ll always have a special place in his heart, and he knows George feels the same way. He will always be here for his friend in situations like this, but he hates to have to see him go through so much pain.

He taps his hands, making George look up at him, then signs, “Do you want to build a house?”

George barks out a laugh in disbelief. “A house? Are you joking? Surely, there has to be more important things to do if I just did that, right?”

Callahan shrugs.

The brunette laughs, then shrugs. “Uh, I mean, fuck it, I guess? Let’s go build a house.”

The newly crowned king’s excitement makes Callahan let out a little laugh. “Nice.”

He waits as George buttons his shirt back up and drapes his cape over his shoulders. George picks up the crown, studying it. As he’s lost in thought, Callahan picks up his goggles. He walks over to him, nudging the crown closer to him. “ You were actually crowned the new King of the Dream SMP today.”

George sighs, looking back up at Callahan, then slowly puts the crown on his head. George knows better than to question every little thing after he performs a ritual. It’ll all come back to him eventually. Then, Callahan hands him the goggles, pointing to his eyes. George nods in understanding, sliding the eyewear onto his face.

“So,” George grins, opening his arms. “How do I look?”

Callahan smiles gently. “ Pretty cool. ”

“Cooler than Eret?” George asks with a mischievous grin.

Callahan makes a waving motion with his hands, then flat out shakes his head no. “ Too soon. ” It makes George scoff.

“Whatever, you’re wrong,” he pouts, before quickly lifting his spirits. “Let’s go make that house!” George cheers. Callahan follows closely behind, knowing he’s going to have to watch over him closely.

This energy after what George just did will be short-lived, maybe a couple hours at best. Soon, he’s going to crash, and Prime knows how long he’ll be out this time. Callahan remembers the last time this happened. George barely remembered them, but still had an excitable couple of hours, almost manic, before he dropped suddenly. Callahan would much rather have him drop into his seemingly endless sleep while building a house than fighting a war. He slept for days afterwards, occasionally waking up or entering a dream-like state, then going back to sleep for days at a time again.

It’s like George would get a brief look into the window of death, a brief look at the place where he would be sending the recipient of the spell, before being back to normal again.

—

They spend their time building a nice, cozy mushroom cottage in the side of a hill. It has dark wood with red mushroom accents. There’s a nice bridge crossing over a little pond. George puts up flower pots in his windowsills and plants some of the mushrooms that grow on him into his front yard. It’s cute. It could be home. 

George thinks it would be nice to settle down here, someday. Or something like it. Maybe once their plan is done, he and Dream can just live here instead. Wait… plan?

Before George can put any more thought into that or Dream, he hears a sound off in the distance, coming from Manberg. He stands up from where he was kneeling in the dirt and looks towards Callahan, who was already looking at him next to the pond. “Did you hear that?”

Callahan nods. “What do you think that was? ”

George furrows his eyebrows. “I… I don’t know. Should we check it out? What if someone’s hurt?”

Seeing his concern makes Callahan’s heart hurt. He doesn't want to bring George there, but knows trying to prevent him from going would be useless. “Let’s go,” he signs and they both gather their weapons and head towards the commotion. Callahan attempts to take the lead to steer George away from anything too harmful.

They finally get to Manberg (renamed back to L’Manberg, unbeknownst to them) and see the destruction taking place. It looks like a majority of fighting and destruction has already happened, going unnoticed by the pair. People are shouting and fighting Withers. TNT is detonating everywhere. 

Memories start flashing in George’s mind. Of what happened right before he did his ritual. Of becoming king. Of the person he killed.

On a hill, overlooking the battle beneath them, explosions and fireworks reflecting in their eyes, with he high-pitched yells of Withers and screams of the people below them, with wind blowing their hair around wildly, George looks back at Callahan. A grave expression covers his face and when Callahan looks at him, he can tell what happened. With a sad look in his eyes, he signs, "You remember?"

George inhales, holding the weight of everything he's done and what's happened on his shoulders. He looks back over the battlefield, looking for his friends. "Yeah," he whispers as he exhales, barely heard at all, but Callahan catches it nevertheless.

He quickly spots Dream and Sapnap blowing up TNT in the distance and points them out to Callahan. Instinctively, he heads in their direction. And after quickly realizing what they were doing, he takes out his bow and aims it at the undetonated TNT, blowing up more parts of L’Manberg.

Sapnap immediately whips his head around at the unexpected explosion, easily spotting George and Callahan amongst the chaos. “George! Callahan!” he exclaims, quickly making his way over to him. In the distance, Dream looks in their direction, letting out a confused, “ George?! ”

“George, how are you feeling?” Sapnap asks breathlessly once he’s close enough to the two, putting a hand on George and Callahan’s shoulders. His armor glows purple with enchantments, but still looks beaten up. Blood and grime cover his face. He radiates heat as well, sparks flying around him and near his devil horns. It’s clear that he’s trying his best to hold himself back. The bandana wrapped around his head flaps around in the wind. “We were worried sick, especially Dream. When we – when Schlatt died… we could tell , George, even if we didn't wanna believe it. I’m just glad Callahan stayed back,” Sapnap nods in Callahan’s direction. “I’m glad you had the foresight to go after him, Calla.”

Callahan smiles, nodding in a somewhat flustered way. “I would do it again. Anytime.”

Sapnap smiles wetly at his friend, just as Dream comes running up to them, barreling into George and giving him a tight hug. The brunette lets out a forced, “oof,” blinking the dots out of his vision, before bringing his arms up to wrap his arms tightly around the taller blonde.

“Dream,” George groans out. “Let go of me, you big oaf.”

Dream immediately pulls away from him, but holds onto his biceps, inspecting all over George for injuries. Dream is the one he should be fussing over, though. Just like Sapnap, his glowing armor looks scuffed, his mask is dirty with soot and grime, cracks evident in the hard material of the mask. “Sorry, sorry!” he apologizes. “I was just – we know what happened, and after last time, I just – I am so happy to see you here, safe. Well, maybe not here , because it actually isn’t safe, but–”

“Dream,” George chides, softly. Sapnap and Callahan exchange looks behind them, fondly exasperated at Dream’s rambling when it comes to his nervousness around George. “I’m fine, and… and it worked! No one knows what happened, right?”

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief. “No,” he laughs. “No, they think he had a fucking heart attack.”

Callahan’s eyebrows shoot up as George lets out a surprised laugh. “A heart attack ?” Callahan signs the same question to Sapnap, who only nods solemnly.

“Yeah,” Dream chuckles, then looks at Callahan with this look in his eyes that makes him feel like a deer in headlights. The blonde lets go of George and quickly pulls Callahan into a tight hug, as well, but much less forceful than the one he gave George. “Thank you,” he whispers in his ear. Callahan huffs a fond breath, reaching up to pat Dream’s back three times

Dream lets go, then turns back to assess the damage. There’s only one Wither left, and it looks worse for wear. People seem to be fighting it well enough on their own. He knows there’s nothing else planned after this, so decides it’s in their best interest to leave and regroup.

They can end their battle here for now.

Dream doesn’t know how long they’ll have until George’s inevitable crash, doesn’t know how much he remembers, doesn’t know what’s going through his head. He tells Sapnap and Callahan to gather their new troops, that they have to start preparing for the repercussions of George performing his ritual, of being the Book of Death.

Because, of course, why wouldn't there be a Book of Death?

Ying and Yang. Day and Night. Life and Death. Most things in life come in pairs.

And thus, when there is a Book of Life, there will also be a Book of Death.

And if Dream is the Book of Life, who else could be the Book of Death if not George?