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It started slowly.
At first, Tommy spent most of his time paranoid in the safety of his black and yellow walls. He barely slept, the bags under his eyes growing more and more everyday. When he did succumb to sleep he woke up screaming and drenched in sweat.
After the third night in a row, he decided to make the journey to the tundra.
Technoblade welcomed Tommy with open, albeit awkward, arms. He held the blonde as he sobbed, simply slipping his red cape over the shaking boy’s shoulders and pressing a cup of steaming hot chocolate into his hands. This went on for a while, with Tommy unofficially taking residence with the piglin hybrid in his cabin in the snow.
They talked, with conversations ending with tears and yelling more than not. Despite this, the two had a shaky yet honest bond. Techno would hold him when he woke up screaming, and Tommy would hound the workaholic to take a nap and provide him with food when he forgot to do so himself.
It was two weeks into this arrangement when the peace was disturbed.
The day started off normal, Tommy waking up in Techno’s bed. He had taken up sleeping alongside the pink haired warrior after one too many nights of restless unease. Having the man next to him provided an extra layer of security he was desperate to have.
The blonde made an effort to avoid awaking Techno. He didn’t sleep enough as it was and Tommy was not making things better with his night terrors. He took up making breakfast as a way to say thanks for putting up with his issues, despite Techno’s insistence that he didn’t mind assisting him.
As he made his way into the small kitchen he couldn’t help but smile. He had always loved cooking, thoughts of cozy mornings in L’manberg eating fresh pancakes fluttering in his mind. It combined everything he loved into one activity. Before taking up residence in Technoblade’s cabin he hadn’t cooked in months. From the meager rations they were forced to live on in Pogtopia, to his practically nonexistent meals in exile, even after Dream was put into prison, he refused to cook for himself. He wasn’t deserving of it.
Technoblade wasn’t hard to cook for. He has a pension for potatoes but other than that he wasn’t the type to complain about his meals. Regardless, Tommy still found himself going out of his way to make a decent meal every morning to thank the immortal for his kindness.
He decided on pancakes after a minute of pondering, feeling nostalgic for times so long ago.
As the pancakes were placed on a plate and the table was set, Techno came out, his pink hair in a sloppy braid. He wore a poet's shirt and simple black pants, lacking the jewelry he often wore. The exceptions being his emerald earring and his iconic gold crown. He clearly didn’t even have to think about his movements towards the small kitchen table, the steps ingrained into his muscle memory, as he automatically took his seat and let out a satisfied hum at the food that Tommy had begun to place on the hand carved spruce table.
After Techno stuck a thumb out in approval of the meal, Tommy began to eat. They didn’t speak, the only noise being the distant crackling of the fireplace in the living room. It was a comfortable silence, one that the blonde felt no need to fill. Every once in a while Techno would sing praise at the meal he had been given and Tommy would just splutter in response. After breakfast, the piglin hybrid collected the dishes and washed them despite Tommy’s protests. They relocated to the living room soon after, Techno leaving for a bit to feed the animals.
When the piglin came back inside, Tommy was curled up on the couch reading one of Techno’s many novels. After shaking the snow off his boots he sat down in a chair by the fireplace, the window in his line of sight. It was peaceful.
Atleast, until Techno froze and shot up, slamming his book shut with enough force that the noise that resulted echoed throughout the room. He ran to the windows, eyes looking at something in the distance.
“What is it?” Tommy’s voice wavered, his anxiety skyrocketing at whatever had riled up the immortal.
“We have a guest.” His words were short and sharp like a knife. “I will handle it. Do not leave the house.” His voice left no room for discussion as he made his way to the door, not even bothering to grab a sword. He glanced back at Tommy for a second, sending him a reassuring stare. “I’ll be back. I promise.”
—
Techno shut the cabin door, the voices screaming about the intruder. As soon as he spotted the familiar speck of lime green in the distance he stopped his reading, making his way to intercept the masked man entering his property. It wasn’t until they were about ten feet apart that he spoke, having to restrain himself from attacking the man from the get go for even thinking to come near the cabin.
“Dream.”
Techno clenched his fists with enough force to draw blood, the voices clamoring in his skull—desperate to see the man in front of them covered in crimson. They wanted to see him suffer, to make sure he never hurt somebody again.
“You have three seconds to leave my property before I make you.”
The masked man let out a laugh, even without the ability to emote with his face, his posture radiated nonchalance and confidence. Dream tilted his head to the side slightly and Techno could hear the smirk on his face as he spoke. “Now, now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend. I just came to ask if you were… harboring a certain menace.” His tone was light but the implications were anything but that.
“You must not have heard me. Get off my property. Now.” His voice echoed with his barely restrained anger, the voices urging him to fight, fight, fight. With every passing second he found himself closer to succumbing to the peer pressure of his own mind. His bubblegum pink hair whipped against his face in the harsh cold winds but that didn’t break his apathetic stare, his ire for the pathetic man swirling around in the crimson irises that remained focused on Dream.
Dream laughed slightly, “Oh really? Since when did you care about protecting the brat? Let me take him off your hands.” He spread his hands out as if he were simply pitching a business scheme, not the implied torture of a child. A child now under Technoblade’s protection. The hollering picked up and over the screams he couldn’t even hear the wind brushing against his face.
“One.”
Dream put his hands out in a placating manner, scoffing at the countdown. “Don’t you think this is all a bit dramatic for Tommy of all people? You don’t even like him! You betrayed him! What is this, some sick hero complex?” His words were meant to strike like a blade and they did, but his subtle step backward was proof enough that the masked man was afraid.
Good, the voices sung.
“Two.”
The piglin hybrid relished in the way Dream seemed to be looking side to side, trying to find an escape. There wasn’t one, he could chase him down regardless of what pitiful manhunt Dream sent him on, but it was amusing to see the man try. His crimson cloak wrapped around his arms, hiding the way his arms were tensed in anticipation, his hands longing to make impact on that stupid crisp white mask.
“Three.”
While Dream remained frozen and made no haste to escape his incoming fate, Techno had no such problem and darted forward, the voices urging him to strike, stab him, make him bleed.
Blood for the Blood God.
Dream seemed to awake from his stupor as Techno landed a punch on his cheek at inhuman speed, knocking the mask off with a single hit. He swung his other fist to strike his now exposed face but Dream managed to block in time. He attempted to send a retaliating punch at the piglin hybrid but Techno managed to offset the incoming attack, sending his knee against Dream’s outer thigh. From personal experience he knew that it must have hurt like hell, with Dream’s shout of pain acting as confirmation enough.
He couldn’t stop the satisfaction that bubbled in his chest when he slammed his fist against the man's nose and a loud crack sounded through the air. Like a school of piranhas the voices were sent into a state of feral glee. Techno punched the disorientated Dream with his other fist, using enough momentum from his movement to knock him onto the snowy floor.
He knelt down, putting his knee on Dream’s chest in a show of power and to restrain him from making any sudden attacks. He pilfered through his person, tossing the weapons he hadn’t been able to use in his panic to the side. Techno on the other hand was unarmed from the get go.
His fists were effective enough to get the message across.
Dream coughed, blood dripping out from his broken nose. It was a pitiful sight, but the crimson that started to stain the white snow and the pathetic worm’s face filled both him and the voices with gratification.
Perhaps it was cruel, but Techno couldn’t help but mock the now silent man. He seemed to be in a state of shock, the pain not fully registering from the adrenaline of battle. “Cat got your tongue?” He grabbed Dream’s head after a minute went by without response, slamming it into the ground repeatedly. It wasn’t as hard of a surface as he would have liked, the snow softening the blows, but it was clear it had disorientated and injured the blonde more than he was before.
Without his mask, Dream looked dreadfully human. With green eyes and dirty blonde hair, a small scar over his lip and a sky of freckles on his cheeks, he could almost pass as normal. Despite his normal appearance, Technoblade was sure of one thing. Dream was a monster.
“Dream. I’ll only give you this one warning. If I see you again I will kill you. I will make sure you never come back. If you lay a hand on anybody under my protection I will make sure you never see the light of day again. I will personally escort your sorry excuse of a being to the gates of Hell where you belong. Do you understand?” His fury seeped into his words, spitting them like acid at the bleeding man on the ground in front of him.
Dream didn’t audibly respond, but the slight nod of his head against the cold snow was enough confirmation for him. The voices chanted with anticipation and sick glee as he slammed his fist again into the blonde’s skull. It was enough force to kill the man from the impact, the voices taking great joy in watching the light drain out of their opponents eyes. It was an act of mercy to kill him compared to what would come to him if he threatened Tommy again. A permanent reminder of what would happen.
He stood up from the disintegrating body, wiping his bloodied knuckles on his pants. His nails embedded themselves in his palms, leaving moon shaped marks in his rough and scarred hands. The voices were still high on the adrenaline of winning a fight, the hungry desire for blood crashing like a wave in his mind.
Find him, they screamed, Bleed him dry.
His breathing was irregular as he tried to soothe the bloodthirsty voices. It was like walking through molasses as he made his way over to the nearest tree, a looming spruce tree. He slammed his fists against the bark, letting out an animalistic growl as his clenched hands made impact. He let the voices’ anger flow through his blows, a bruise blossoming across his knuckles.
He stood there in the snow for what could have been hours, the voices simmering down from their rage. Taking a step back, Techno let out a deep breath. He swiftly collected the discarded weapons he had removed from Dream’s person earlier. With one last glance at where Dream died, he turned back and started walking in the direction of his cottage, the only proof of his crime remaining behind being the speckles of blood littering the once white snow and a broken mask.
When he entered the cabin he was met with a slightly shaking Tommy, but the sight of Techno brought a beaming smile to his face. Techno waved slightly, and once the other spotted his injured hands he quickly ushered him to the kitchen to be checked over.
A cream was gently massaged into his bruises and any small slivers of wood were quickly removed from his knuckles. The blood was wiped off his hands and arms, and a steaming cup of hot coco was placed in front of him. Neither of them spoke throughout the entire affair, unspoken questions and thanks swirling in both of their eyes, akin to something soft.
As he let the blonde teenager fuss over his bleeding and bruised hands, he could only agree with the voices.
If he saw Dream again, he would make good on his promise.