Down with the King- Dream SMP

10- Dream

WARNING: Language and some blood

White mask shielding his face, Dream turned down the passageways that would take him to Tommy's cell. He wanted to try something different today and he was intrigued to see how Tommy would react. Listening to the door lock shut behind him, he walked down the stairs that led to the isolation cell.

"Hello, Dream," Tommy spat upon seeing him. "Or would you rather have me call you 'Your Majesty' or 'King Dream' or 'Your Kingliness' or-"

"I don't care," Dream interrupted him, taking his normal seat across from the boy. "I couldn't care less what people call me. What I do care about is people following my rules and obeying my orders."

"So I can call you bitch boy," Tommy said with a smirk. "And you won't do a thing about it?"

"Tommy, you've been calling me bitch boy and I haven't done anything about it," he sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "How did you sleep?"

Tommy blinked at him, clearly unsure of what the hell was going on, just as he planned it to be.

"Terribly," he finally responded. "I dreamed about Wilbur again."

Dream nodded. "He must have been a good brother to you."

"What the hell are you getting at?" Tommy growled, glaring at Dream with fire in his eyes. "I can't believe you have the audacity to talk about Wilbur like you knew him when you didn't! You didn't fucking know him, you fucking killed him!"

"All I'm saying is he must have been a great brother and friend if you keep dreaming about him," Dream said, keeping his voice steady and even.

"You bastard!" Tommy yelled. "Stop talking about him! You're not worthy to even say his name! I swear to you, Dream, when I get out of this fucking cell I'm going to murder you and- the hell are you doing now?"

In the middle of Tommy's rant, Dream had calmly stood up and pulled a piece of white chalk from his pocket. The space beyond the cell and before the stairs was a fairly decent size and it was in this space that he drew a circle.

"What, am I supposed to tell you it looks pretty?" the boy asked sarcastically.

"No," Dream said, pulling a key from around his neck. He walked over to the cell and unlocked the door, allowing it to swing open. "I want you to make good on your word. Come and kill me."

He turned his back on Tommy and walked to the center of the circle.

"I don't understand," Tommy said, remaining inside the cell.

"Hit me," Dream said, shrugging his green cloak off and spreading his arms wide and welcoming.

"Fuck you," the boy responded, darting past Dream and towards the stairs.

"Tommy, the door is locked-" he sighed as Tommy tugged at the door handle.

"Let me out!" he screamed, banging on the door. "Somebody open this goddamn door!"

"Tommy, you're wasting my time," Dream called out in a sing-song voice. "Don't you want to hit me?"

Tommy looked down the stairs, meeting Dream's stare with an icy one of his own. Slowly, he walked down the stairs until he stood just outside of the circle.

"Come on, Tommy," Dream said with a grin. "You know you want to. For Wilbur."

At the mention of his brother's name, Tommy sprang into action. He launched himself at Dream, his fist coming round to meet his face, but Dream dodged it easily. He side stepped away from him as Tommy threw yet another punch.