~Once Upon a Skephalo~

~Chapter 3~

"Bad."

"Bad, wake up."

Someone jostled his shoulder gently, urging him to wake up.

"Hmm...? ...no..." Bad mumbled, rolling over, trying to get away from the annoying person that wanted him to wake up. He had been enjoying his nap.

"You need to get up, Bad," the same voice from earlier said, a bit firmer this time.

"I don't wanna..." Bad whined.

He could hear the person grumbling and sighing angrily. "If you don't wake up, you don't get any muffins," they said finally.

"Fine, fine," Bad grumbled, opening his eyes and slowly sitting up. "I'm awake."

He looked around, and quickly found himself confused. "Dream? Where are we?"

Dream was kneeling in front of him, a concerned and mildly annoyed look on his face. "Some sort of dungeon, I think."

Bad looked around, observing their surroundings. They were in a damp, dark room, with walls, floor, and ceiling made out of dark stone bricks. One of the walls was made entirely out of iron bars, looking out into a corridor. There was a door made out of iron bars along that wall, but the door was shut and locked tight.

"Why? What happened?" Bad asked as he stretched.

"The stupid cake was drugged." Dream sighed heavily. "We should have known better than to trust some stranger in a van."

"Well, we didn't have much of a choice. We had to eat something," Bad reasoned. "And at least we're safe now."

"Safe?! How do you call this safe?!" Dream gestured wildly at their surroundings. "We're locked away in some dungeon with no food, water, or any means of self-defense, and you think we're safe?!"

"Wait... you have your sword, don't you?" Bad asked.

"No! They took it!" Dream stood up and briskly walked to the other side of the room, fuming.

Bad then realized something; he didn't have his basket. "My basket! Dream, they took my basket!"

"I don't care about your dumb basket! There are more important things to worry about than a stupid basket!" Dream shouted.

Bad whimpered, hugging his knees to his chest. "I know, but it was important to me... It's a special basket..."

"Ugh, I don't care! We'll get another one later. Now stop being dumb and-"

"Shhh, Dream, listen," Bad hushed. He turned and looked to the door. "Someone's coming."

Dream harrumphed, but listened. Bad was right. Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor, approaching them.

Bad stood up and walked over to the iron bars, peering into the hallway. A cloaked figure was making its way to them. When the figure reached their cell, it stopped and turned to face them.

"Please let us out," Bad spoke. "We're not criminals, I promise! We didn't do anything to deserve to be locked in a dungeon!"

Dream stayed silent, arms crossed as he stood a bit behind Bad.

"Oh, really?" The man in the cloak asked. "Well, that's a lie. One of you is a thief."

"What?!" Bad gasped at the accusation. "Neither of us stole anything!"

"If that's the case," the cloaked man began, "then why did I find this rose in your possession?!" A gloved hand appeared from under the cloak, holding a dark red rose that drooped slightly, having been picked the previous day. "THIS rose from MY garden! One of you picked this rose without permission, and, by doing so, not only stole from me, but also trespassed on my land!"