THE PUPPET ❦ 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐌𝐏 [rewrite] ✔

chapter 19

Dream woke to the feeling of someone slapping him in the face.

Dream cracked his eyes open.

Oh.

It was Ragina George, or rather Draco, as the memories flooded back into his head.

He was knocked out cold.

Dream's eyes roamed around. He was in a classical ancient holding cell. Chains dangling from flaking, dusty, bloody walls. Dream's hands were chained in front of him, and his legs were shacked together. Dream was lying on the cold dank floor.

"Your grandfather is here to see you." Dream raised an eyebrow up at Draco.

"why would I want to see him?" Dream said to him as he looks at him. He honestly doesn't want to meet him. Draco seem to look irritated at him which Dream tries hard not to smirk.

"Fine" Dream said in a bored tone as he rolls his eyes as he heard Draco muttered something that sounded like:

"Ignorant Muggles,"

And despite not understanding the term, that much, Dream had to say, it hurt. He glared at him.

"Get up." There was no point in arguing with him.

Dream struggled to his knees, and looked at Draco. There was no way Dream could stand up with his legs shackled and his hands bound together like that. Sighing, Draco reached over and hauled Dream to his feet, turning, Draco dragged Dream over and opened the door of the cell, shoving him roughly out.

Dream almost fell over again.

As they walked through a surprisingly brightly lit hall filled with portraits, Dream got a better look at Draco. He looked worse than the last time, he had spoke to him.

They walked through several halls and chambers all with the elegant, posh look of a rich Victorian manor. Now this is what Dream expected of England. Chandeliers, check; torches, check; fancy portraits of Victorian age people, check.

Dream would admire it but the place reminded Dream of Technoblade.

Finally, they came to a tall, menacing wooden door. It looked old, but fancy, with an air of sophistication. Dream noticed Draco straightening his robes, unconsciously brushing his shoulder, getting rid of that invisible speck of dust. Slowly Dream walked towards it, until he realized what it was etched with.

Faces.

Young and old, male and female, screaming in pain. They were contorted with agony, and the carver looked like he had fun carving them. And then they started moving. The mouths opened in silent screams, tears of wood grain flowed down their cheeks.

Dream took a step back until Draco prodded him closer. Dream approached the doors again, trying to peel his eyes off of the horrible faces. Whoever owned this house was a sadistic man, which Dream thought Techno would love this, but he also like the designs. Slowly the doors opened, and Dream gasped.

He couldn't help it, really. Dream was facing a grand hall, the floor dark, marble. The walls were covered with thick black tapestries, the high, arched ceiling was held up with Greek style columns. A blood red carpet extended down the length of the hall, leading up to a tall dais. Robed men and women all stood silently on either sides of the carpet.

They stared at Dream.

At the top of the dais, there was a throne, and on the throne, a figure, hidden in shadow. All Dream could see were dark robes, and a pale boney hand that rested on the armrest. The hand alone gave me shivers. Draco prodded Dream forward, done the row of silent lunatics. As they walked by, Dream heard snatches of conversation.

"Looks just like our Lord!"

"Some sort of a prodigy"

Dream snorted at that. His eyes looked pure but they held power as an intimated aura was around him.

Everyone gave a little start as Dream's lips twitched into a smirk. Dream walked down the aisle.

They soon stopped at the foot of the dais. Draco pushed Dream to his knees, and he landed with a little oomph. Then, Draco knelt beside him, his head bowed. Dream looked up at his grandfather. The pale hand tapped the armrest once, and an ominous voice said:

"Rise and join your parent, Draco, most loyal."

Draco got up and stepped to where his parents were, close to the base of the dais. The pale reached and pointed at Dream.

"So. You do look like me, my grandson before I died but with blonde hair."

"So I've been told."

"Yesss, you will do nicely."

"Ya, I don't think so, old man" Another gasp.

"How dare you-" That was the woman from earlier.

"Bellatrix." The single word held so much power in it that Dream nearly reeled backwards. Bellatrix immediately stopped talking.

Lord Voldermort stands up and spoke out. ❝ Come join me, Dream. We can rule the world. ❞ Voldermort held out his hand towards Dream.

Dream hesitated as he looks around. He felt the eyes on him waiting for him to answer.  He soon looks up again and made up his mind.

A knowing smirk was on his lips.

________

Dream has a plan up his sleeve, doesn't he?