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“You’re a right piece of shit, you know that?" Tommy huffed, leaning dangerously over the side of the oaken rowboat. The ocean waves splashed over the side, forming a small puddle in the center of the seacraft, and Dream jerked one of the oars downwards, slicing through the water to keep them balanced.
“I’m trying to steer us,” Dream said through gritted teeth, “so would you stop trying to capsize the freaking boat?”
Tommy crossed his arms and kept putting his weight on the edge. “Steer us right down to the ocean floor, why don’t you? It’d be better than making the journey to permanent exile.”
Behind the mask, Dream pressed his lips together into a thin line. The words stung, and he felt a boiling mass of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Tommy had every right to be angry, but not this angry, putting their lives in danger out of the enormous volume of spite which filled his waking mind. Tommy’s words might have ended up ringing true, the kelp and bubbles swaying and swirling below the water’s surface, threatening to drag them under, if Tommy hadn’t suddenly pulled his weight off of the edge of the boat.
“Thank you,” Dream replied curtly, arms beginning to ache now that the fear and adrenaline was leaving him. “Can you help me row?”
Tommy scoffed. “This was your idea. Row it yourself, bitch.”
They were lucky the ocean waves were calm in this season, smooth surface sparkling under the rising moon. It was one of the only times the dark of the night was peaceful, with no land monsters in sight, and on the water, they were moving too swiftly for drowned creatures to give chase. Even if they stilled for a moment, they’d be fairly safe, for the creatures liked to swim near the ocean floor, and the waters were very deep in their current location. Dream decided to pause to turn on the plank that made up his seat so that he could churn his arms in the opposite direction – and also so that he could see Tommy and make sure the kid hadn’t taken a nosedive off of the back of the boat while he wasn’t paying attention.
Tommy hadn’t. He was just asleep.
With a soft sigh, Dream opened the knapsack he’d brought with them, containing some food and water – enough for the journey. It was a miracle Dream had the foresight to pack it, considering, well… the hollow threat he’d presented the L’Manburg presidency with was just that – a hollow threat. The obsidian walls he’d erected around the country were his plan to keep; they were what he’d really wanted, rather than the company of the sleeping teenager he was sharing his boat with. He hadn’t guessed that they had the guts to put their country over their friend.
The moon passed its peak and began to fall, and Dream nibbled on a crust of bread. He looked over his shoulder at the landmass in the distance, inching closer with every pull of the oars. Closer to shore, the waves began to rock the boat more erratically, and a mumbling Tommy was awoken once the sun began to rise over the horizon.
“Where are we?” Tommy grumbled, pushing himself upright.
“A day’s journey from L’Manberg,” Dream replied simply, then gestured to the land behind him. “You’ll be staying here.”
Tommy’s lips curled into a frown as the boat’s front end plunked sadly into the sandy shore. “This place? You really weren’t kidding about the ‘exile in the wild’ shit.”
I was, but… “I’m a man of my word,” Dream said. “I’m lots of things, but I’m not a liar.”
Tommy gave a small ‘tch’ before hopping out of the boat, kicking up sand as he hurried past the beach. Dream followed him into the mainland, but only after dragging the boat further onshore where it wouldn’t be washed away by the tide.
“Fuckin’… Tubbo and his shitty…” Tommy mumbled as he stormed through the plains, bordered by birch and oak. His words were too soft and garbled for Dream to pick out each of them, but the animosity against the country he’d left behind was more than clear.
The fatigue in Dream’s limbs became more evident the longer he stood there at the entrance to the meadow, swaying in the sunrise. He’d rowed all night, and his sleep schedule wasn’t the greatest to begin with, and if he glanced at the mop of straw-colored hair bobbing in and out of the tall grass, he saw blurs of double before blinking to sharpen his vision once more.
“..ream? Oi! Green bitch!”
Dream refocused on Tommy. The boy in question had his hand stuck in the air, waving angrily. A scowl was sat on his face. Dream blinked another few times and readjusted his mask so that the edge of the ceramic no longer dug into his chin, and he began to approach Tommy.
“What do you want?” he said to Tommy, a bit harsher than necessary.
“Just curious if you were standing there because your brain short circuited or if it was just to mock me,” Tommy sneered. “You already got what you wanted, now leave me alone. I got tools to make and a shelter to build, and I doubt you’re here to help.”
Dream’s frown deepened, though it wasn’t like Tommy could see. He paused. Although he enjoyed getting a rise out of Tommy, mockery wasn’t in his vocabulary at the moment. When it was such mockery that had led to the proposal of the exile ultimatum he never intended on following through with in the first place, it felt in poor taste to even consider falling back into that sort of careless banter.
Instead, Dream left to gather wood. Tommy certainly didn’t protest as he departed, though he doubted Tommy was paying much attention to where he’d gone at all. Netherite axe in hand, he made short work of several fallen logs around the area, haphazardly throwing the few stacks in his inventory before transporting them back to where Tommy was still grumbling about, digging in the dirt with a rudimentary wooden trowel in order to hit stone. He didn’t notice Dream approach. Dream cleared his throat, and Tommy jumped.
“Fucking hell,” Tommy spat, “what do you want now?”
Dream dumped a few logs out of his inventory, and Tommy’s eyes widened as they tumbled to the ground. “I have a few stacks,” he said. “It should get you a good, sturdy shelter.”
Tommy picked up one of the logs, warily looking it over. “They’re not doused in gasoline? Infested with termites or silverfish?”
Dream’s lips parted into a small smile as he gave a weak chuckle and shook his head. “No. They’re just logs.”
Tommy squinted at Dream when he placed a crafting table, then decided he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and instead took the logs he’d been given and started weaving them into planks with practiced hands. “No offense, but you literally exiled me, why the fuck are you helping me?”
“Tubbo exiled you,” Dream mumbled bitterly, reaching into his inventory for some logs. He joined Tommy at the crafting table, fashioning planks out of the wood he’d gathered. “I didn’t think he would.”
Tommy snorted. “You gave the ultimatum, bitch. It’s not Tubbo’s fault.”
Dream grit his teeth and paused as he finished a set of planks. “I didn’t think he’d choose to exile you.”
“Well, boo-hoo, now we both have to deal with something we didn’t plan on,” Tommy said. He set his planks aside. “…What do you mean, you didn’t think he’d choose to exile me?”
Dream scoffed. “Come on, you didn’t think he would either. I saw your face when he made the decree.” He pulled another log out of his inventory. “Guess he valued the country more than he valued keeping you at his side.”
Tommy pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t – don’t talk about Tubbo like that,” he spat, though his voice didn’t carry the conviction needed to convince anyone. “Fuck you. This is all your fault.”
“I gave him a choice!” Dream said. “I pitted L’Manberg against you because I thought you were the one thing he valued more that that stupid country!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Tommy said, shrill and loud. “Fuck you and fuck this shitty island and fuck this exile, and-” Tommy turned, beginning to storm away, “-fuck this, fuck you, Dream…”
Dream wasn’t sure if he heard right when he heard a faint ‘and fuck Lmanberg,’ come from across the meadow.