LOSING GAME ➳ dreamwastaken

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧

Reverie couldn't believe that Dream had the audacity to be upset with her for not sleeping in his room anymore. She spent her nights laying alone in the room across the hall from Dreams's, awake late into the night, staring blankly at the ceiling and contemplating the scores of ridiculous events that had taken place in such a short period of time.

Wilbur and Tommy picked off a piece of Dream's land and claimed it as their own nation, Dream retaliated by threatening to wage war, Wilbur drafted and read L'Manberg's Declaration of Independence, Dream forced Reverie to sign his Declaration of War, and now Dream had burned her home to ashes.

She went to the ruins of her home the morning after Dream set it aflame. The piece of Dream's green hoodie was still in her hair.

Nothing remained of the house—nothing important, anyway. What had once been a home full of familial love and hundreds of wonderful memories was now a scorched pile of ash and rubble. As she stood on top of the hill, the wind whistling in her ears and whipping cold lashes across her face, staring at the remains of her home, Reverie considered, for the first time, that maybe Wilbur was truly and entirely right.

Maybe Dream was the villain.

"You should just move here," Wilbur told Reverie as they leaned against the inside walls of the Camarvan. Reverie sighed deeply and ran a hand through her disheveled hair. She wore it down today, excluding a small braid that framed her face, tied at the end with the piece of green cloth.

"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I can't just leave him."

"As far as Tommy and Tubbo are concerned, you're living on the streets. Tubbo is worried sick, Rev."

Until that very moment, Reverie hadn't so much as considered that Tubbo would be worried about where she was staying or how she was doing. She supposed she would just have to tell him that she was crashing at someone else's house for the time being—with Niki, perhaps.

"I'm fine," Reverie said, and when Wilbur gave her a shrewd look, she insisted, "Really, Will, I'm okay. It's just going to take me awhile to forgive him, that's all."

Reverie played with her fingernails. She could feel Wilbur's stare—his eyes burning into the side of her head, but she refused to look up at him out of fear that she would break. The last thing she needed right now was for Wilbur to see her cry; she would feel completely and utterly pathetic.

One minute, everything was just fine. Reverie had woken up in Dream's arms, as she so often did, but only a few hours later Dream arrived in L'Manberg, armed and donning magnificent Netherite armour, threatening Wilbur with war, and suddenly Reverie's entire world had been flipped upside down. She didn't know what to do. Dream was her boyfriend and he meant the world to her, but Wilbur was her best friend and had been for so long. Dream and Wilbur were at war and Reverie was caught in the crossfire.

Wilbur opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, drawing in a rattling breath before finally building the courage to say what was on his mind.

"I know it's not really my place to say, but... maybe you shouldn't forgive him, Rev."

Before Reverie had the chance to respond or even contemplate Wilbur's statement, she experienced a case of déjà vu as Tommy came sprinting into L'Manberg, screaming for help.

Wilbur was out of the Camarvan immediately. "What is it, Tommy?"

Reverie stepped out into the glorious sunlight, its gentle light tingling her skin, yet its warmth escaped her when her eyes found Tommy. He looked simply petrified. His hair was disheveled and had clearly been tugged at, his face was matted with soot and his trousers were torn and his knees were bloody.