Enders and Brines

Here Ends The Story!

Summary:

History is written by the men who make the laws.
And it's stupidly easy to manipulate their minds.
A well placed word, a well timed smile, and one can make a man... or destroy him.

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Inspired by A Story Told from The Count of Monte Cristo.

A/N: This entire series came to be because someone in AO3 had the audacity to shit in both the Dreambur and Dreamnoblade tags, and I am nothing but spiteful, so here we are! Since Wattpad doesn't have the series system as AO3 has, I'm posting all the works as chapters of one fic.

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History is written by the men who make the laws.

And it's stupidly easy to manipulate their minds.

A well placed word, a well timed smile, and one can make a man... or destroy him.

It rings true when Dream is hunted out of the nation he had helped found, not even a chance to get himself some justice.

Maybe he should feel glad he even had the chance to escape before they could throw him in prison, but part of him, a part of him he tries his best to ignore, asks if that would truly be a worse fate than running away from people he loves.

"How come we're in two and we can't find one guy?!"

Dream flinches, quickly covering his mouth and nose with his hand so his heavy breathing wouldn't get their attention, the harsh rocks of the cave poking his back through his hoodie. There's a thunderous noise resonating in his ears, and if it weren't for the feeling of his heart beating harshly against his ribcage, he would have thought he was hearing his hunters' heartbeats in the silence that follows George's outburst.

In a simpler time, those beatings would be full of glee, friends playing a deadly mashup of hide-and-seek and tag.

Now they're enemies engaged in a deadly hunt.

Dream wishes, more than anything, that he could walk up to them and convince them to change sides. To stay with him and fight the others instead. But he knows he can't, they won't believe him. L'manburg has been good to them, a safe place to return to, organized and filled with familiar faces. Dream was the odd one out, the guy who simply couldn't stay still, always on the run, always going somewhere. Anywhere. Doesn't help that Dream is a bastard who won't back down.

And even if they can be convinced, it's not like he'll get the chance to try anyways. He knows their orders.

Only thing they need to bring back is his head.

A trophy and an example.

Dream is not sure how things escalated so quick, and in such a way, but it matters not. He's now a fugitive, a man wanted for a crime he did not commit, and there is little to do but to keep on running. To leave everything behind.

He's only glad Wilbur is not part of it.

George and Sapnap are very skilled, and they know Dream's tricks by now. Growing up together has given them the advantage of many play hunts and fights with the blonde. They know him well.

Just not as much as he thought, it seems.

Wilbur doesn't have that advantage, but he is Dream's weakness, and if he sees the General even once right now, with his heart breaking and his mind racing, he might just allow the man to take him back.

No, Dream can't see Wilbur.

"Hey, George."

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think Dream did that?"

Dream's breath hitches as Sapnap's words hit his ears. Silence suffocates him as he waits for George's answer. He probably should take the chance to run now that they are distracted, but his body refuses to move, legs trembling with the strain of keeping his torso pressed to the stony wall separating him and his... hunters. Finally, George answers.

"I'm not sure. Sure, he can be a dick, but that would be going too far, and Dream is not like that."

"Why are we here then?"

"... Because not being here would be betraying L'manburg, the very nation we helped build."

"Yes, but being here is betraying our oldest friend."

Silence follows Sapnap's words. It's heavy, and it's heart wrenching. The runaway blond wants to go to them so badly. He wants to go to them, to hug them, to tell them what happened, to be by their side again. He longs for it.

Maybe they could go back to being nomads, just the three of them, like when they were younger. Back when Dream only had to wear his mask when they had to enter a village, back when they would sleep under the starry sky, back when they would cuddle to keep away the cold, back when they would run around with wild animals and wilder smiles.

Back when they had nothing but each other and a world to explore.

"We should get the General." George breaks the silence. "Maybe he knows what's really going on."

Dream's body finally answers to his frantic mind—or mayhaps it answers to the name of the one dear to his heart—, and he runs.

Away from the story being written at his cost.