Through It All ~ Dream Team SMP ✅

->Five<-

One thought was clear in my mind.

Stash Mellohi.

I don't know where the idea occurred from, but in the heat of the moment, as the Palace Guards descended, it made sense. I searched desperately, finding no suitable spots. I felt the grass beneath me and squeezed my eyes shut. I'd have to dig. With my blistered, bleeding, raw hands. This would be painful.

I fought back a yelp of pain as I tore up the earth below me, wincing with every scoop of dirt, the soil stinging my cut palms. I barely got it covered in time as the soldiers appeared, shouty scrutinies that I didn't hear for my pounding ears.

I'd had the air knocked from me as I fell, and everything ached. In my haste to hide the mysterious object, I hadn't bothered to check on my physicality, and I slowly raised my hand to the back of my head, already feeling a lumpy bruise forming. I tested the injury, pressing on it gently. Black spots swam through my vision and for I second I thought I was about to pass out. In my state as slightly disconnected from reality, I failed to see the ground ripped away from me as I was forced onto my knees until I could no longer feel the tendrils of grass tickling my cheek.

I couldn't really make out the face of the man in front of me, as my vision was still fuzzy from the fall. I caught a white tunic worn over a black undershirt, and hair the colour of opals, held back by a strip of white cloth. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, bringing his face up close to mine.

"What have we got, Sap?" The voice wasn't from the man in front of me, so I assumed it was one of the other guards talking.

"It's a kid. It's a fucking kid." His voice was deep and gravelly, and incredibly unsettling.

"A kid broke into the Palace?"

"I don't know, okay? I just know he's here, in front of us, looking guilty as sin," I closed my eyes as he hissed, practically in my face. "What do we do with him?"

"You're head of the King's Guard, it's your call." The black-haired man, Sap, seemed to deliberate for a minute, flickers of several emotions I couldn't identify in my half-conscious state flashing over his face.

"Even if he wasn't the one who robbed us, he's trespassing. Throw him in the cells." Ah. That didn't sound so great.

I couldn't exactly fight back as I was forced to my feet and dragged across the grass in the darkness. All I could do was try and blink the spots out of my eyes. A loud creak of rusted metal indicated we had reached our destination. I was vaguely aware of being flung to the floor, my head once again slamming against the ground.

I touched it gently as the door closed, my fingers coming back red and damp. I groaned in pain, shifting myself into a corner, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation of the dank ground. A few bales of straw were littered around, and I tried to pull myself over to one, so I might rest in more comfort. I gave up soon enough, discovering arms simply wouldn't obey me. Brilliant.

I've really fucked up here. I fought the urge to laugh at my predicament. Oh, Jesus, I'm trapped in a cell and I want to laugh. Either I'm a psychopath or my head injury is getting to me.

I had no idea how long I lay curled into the dark corner. I was still partly out of it, aware only of the constant dripping of the damp walls and the resolute throbbing in my head. I choked back a sob, salty tears mixing in with the blood running freely down my face.

"Get your fucking hands off me, you cu-" The words were cut off with the sound of skin on skin and a yell of shock. I blinked at the sudden noise. I must have fallen asleep in my corner, as the yelling jerked me awake, and suddenly my head didn't hurt as bad. Don't get me wrong, the pounding was still unbearable, but at least I could raise my head. I rubbed my eyes weakly, squinting in the dim light.

Coming towards me was a pair of guards holding between them a tall man, who was struggling and barking out vicious insults in their direction.

"I said to get your hands off me or I swear to God I will snap your fucking necks-" My eyes widened as the guards stamped on his foot, to try and quell his attempt at fighting back. A third soldier opened the rusty door to my cell and flung him in.

The man was smashed against the far wall, but he was immediately up again, running to the bars and rattling them manically, keeping his shouting at a deafening volume. This continued for a few minutes, and I lay in shock, not knowing how to intervene. Eventually, he stopped, sighing in defeat and readjusting his black beanie. He wheeled around, finally spotting me.

"Oh, a roommate. How nice for me." He rolled his eyes, regarding me with a bored rigor. I couldn't see his face, but something about his voice was familiar.

"What's going on?" I coughed quietly.

"These fucking picks are now deciding I'm not allowed to express my opinion on our sweet ruler, King Dream," Oh. A revolutionary. He looked at me again, face still shrouded in shadow. "You're bleeding." He observed.

"No shit." I chuckled.

"That's going to get infected if you're not careful, come here, let me clean it." I didn't move, looking at him wearily.

"... What...?"

"Look, blondie, I don't bite. So unless you want sepsis, I suggest you let me help you."

What did I have to lose?

I slowly crawled over, wincing all the way. I reached his side of the room and noticed him filling a bucket with water from a tap I hadn't noticed. I saw him for the first time and realised where I recognised the man from.

It was the same revolutionary I'd seen being attacked by the mob as I entered the city. He crouched next to me, tearing a strip of blue fabric off his sleeve to act as a cloth.

"Lie down." He gestured to his lap. Usually, I would have found this rather inordinary, and mildly uncomfortable, but I was in too much pain to care. I let slip a slight cry as the water made contact with my bleeding head, causing it to sting slightly.

"I recognise you, I saw a mob beating you up on the day I got here," I confessed.

"I assume you laughed along with everyone else..." The brunette spat bitterly, dabbing at my wound gently. I frowned.

"No?"

"I'm just messing with you, kid. How old are you anyway, you look too young to be a criminal." He snickered. He was a very sarcastic man, but at the same time, he was helping me, so how bad could he be?

"Sixteen." He chuckled at my answer.

"And what has a sixteen-year-old done to land himself in the Palace dungeons?" I remembered Skeppy's smirk as he pushed me off the building.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I muttered truthfully. The revolutionary shrugged.

"Your call. All done, by the way, you can sit up now." He added, giving me his first genuine smile.

"Thanks." I nodded in appreciation, finding myself more able to move. Mud and blood still caked my face, but at least there was no risk of infection.

"You should wash your hands, they look pretty bad too." I stared down at my palms, a mixture of dirt and red liquid coated them, and they still stung from the blisters The Blade had inflicted. I pushed them into the bucket tentatively, rubbing them together to rid myself of the substances. When finished, I simply wiped my hands on my trousers, sighing.

The brunette was sat on a bale of hay, elbows resting on his knees. He leaned his head forward, biting his thumbnail slightly between his laced-together fingers.

"What did you say your name was?" He asked finally, pointing in my direction after much thought.

"I-I didn't." I stuttered. The revolutionary raised an eyebrow.

"Care to enlighten me? We'll be spending a lot of time together, I reckon, given that we're cellmates."

"Tommy. Tommy Innitson." I bowed my head slightly, running my thumb over the cheap material of my torn trousers.

"Nice to meet you, Tommy. I'm Wilbur Soot."