Nightmare (a Dream smp/ Passerine Fanfic)

Chapter 22

"Sir Philza, King Schlatt has requested your presence." Philza, startled, swiftly stood up in the opposite of a graceful manner. "For what reason?"

"The king has not stated that measure." The guard simply responded. Philza and the guard's eyes met, for just a second. He was lying. Probably to make the order seem more general, and get Philza's cooperation. It was to no use, Philza had nothing to gain in leaving Schlatt hanging.

"Lead the way."

A few minutes passed, slowly travelling with the guard through the unorganized halls of the palace. At the sixth corner turned, a large, carved wooden door coated with gold appeared in front of them. King's Study was printed out in bold letters at the top of the door. Memories flickered of Philza's old palace. The one that was currently looted and half-destroyed.

There were more guards in front of the door, who muttered things with the man that Philza followed. One guard pulled out a key and creaked the huge door open. Unintelligible noises, then nodding. The huge doors now fully opened, to reveal the inside.

An assistant in a red-and-black suit stood nervously next to Schlatt, who was sitting at his desk with the hint of a smile. Half of him looked prepared, the perfect expression, yet the other half looked as if he never expected anyone, with the messy suit and empty bottles lining the desk. Unexpectedly, it smelled like alcohol.

"Phil!" Schlatt enthusiastically greeted. A little too enthusiastically, like he was dying to see Philza's reaction to whatever he had to say. Schlatt turned to his assistant and motioned for him to get out, which the assistant gladly did.

"Why did you ask for me?" Philza growled in response. He already felt sick. Schlatt only laughed.

"Impatient, as always?" He smiled. "I asked because I wanted to discuss a certain agreement. You can guess."

Of course. Philza's memories now took him to just a few weeks ago. A stuttered conversation about threats and revolting.

"I will alter those terms as long as you allow me to add others. I've seen those angry citizens of your kingdom. How they were in utter demise when you surrendered. They will revolt to some point unless I do something. They won't be scared of armies and whatever position of power that I have."

"You're asking me to give you something to threaten them with? Why would I ever do that?"

"Caught on quickly, have you? I'll raise the things in it for you. I'll lower the army term, lower the supplies I take, lower the land I b- take, lower everything."

"And in return? What would I give?"

"That's your decision, as long as it meets the point. Who do your people care about, respect?"

And Philza had given his own existence as an answer. To protect anyone else. "What about it?"

Schlatt avoided that question by rambling on his own timeline. "Even I was surprised, Phil, of how quickly it came to this." He now sighed, and grabbed another bottle. "Like I said, you can guess."

"They revolted? What happened?" This time, Schlatt took some notice of his question.

"A puny little group was found... in an abandoned mineshaft of some sort. A guard followed a few suspicious kids to it. Hah, you'll never guess this one..." Schlatt's eyes flickered back to meet Philza's, who was bewildered.

"What?"

"I almost feel bad for you. Hah, your own sons are against the monarchy..." Schlatt grinned at Philza, whose vision was going blurry.

"Young blond one, and the dark haired one were both found at the scene. Interesting, isn't it?" Schlatt took a swig of whatever was in the bottle, as an excuse to have silence as he stared longingly at Philza, enjoying the reaction.

The sentence to sum up Philza's thoughts were simply, what the fuck?

Tommy and Will. Tommy, just a kid who didn't understand... and the opposite for Wilbur. Someone who knew too much.

I wonder who's fault it is... own sons against you... nothing to do with their only parent, no?

Philza actually froze. Voices? In the presence of Schlatt? How? Weren't they... afraid?

Schlatt's face looked like it wanted to burst out laughing, at the same time stay compusured. "Who knew the real voices, the real gods, were so... powerless? They 'took away' my godship, yet they had no idea what I could still create..."

Philza wasn't getting it. Schlatt knew it, and continued to toy with the answers until the end.

So you don't understand me. What about here?

My god. Philza's back reached a wall, and he sank down.

"What the fuck have you done?"

"Who knew..." Schlatt started again. "That you could manipulate your own abilities in this way? Whatever this... mimicry is..."

Philza was gripping his arm so hard it felt as if it would break.

"Anyway." Schlatt was doing all of the talking. "I'm going to make a speech later today. In front of your citizens and mine alike. I'll... hint at our little arrangement." Schlatt simply said. "Perhaps you'll stay alive longer than a few days."

Philza felt like a child. Ordered around, wanting to shout, life-changing powers in the hands of someone else. Literally. Schlatt pushed the empty bottles off his desk, scattering glass over the carpeted floor. "Our conversation is over. Unless you have something else to say."

How could Philza say anything, his mind spinning more than when the real voices showed up?

Schlatt can mimic the voices. Fallen gods can... manipulate powers? Wilbur and Tommy are against me. And... It's no one's fault. Except mine.