For Freedom

Bargaining

Notes:

I'm not sorry.

The place Dream had asked him to meet was too small, informal. It seemed like an office space, a broad wooden desk, only one small window, bookshelves, maps and charts on the walls. They were too far away from L'Manburg and anywhere within the SMP that Wilbur recognized.

Dream was eyeing him from across the room as he crossed the threshold. His dirty blond hair was pushed haphazardly back from his brow, and his mask was abandoned on the desk. He sat in a worn out, high backed leather chair, long legs crossed, falling off the arm rest. He looked entirely too casual, apart from the six inch steel blade glinting in his hands.

"Good evening," Wilbur greeted, stance awkward as he stood just inside the room, eyes flicking to the solitary window. Dull orange light leaked in, as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, making Wilbur feel well and truly alone in this room, though Dream was a presence, he was no comfort. The way he intimidated, and the way he dissected Wilbur with his piercing gaze sparked unease.

"You should hope," Dream said, ignoring pleasantries as he sheathed the knife. He swung his legs down, hopping to his feet and crossing the small space in too short a time. Dream's steps were too even, smooth and effortless, leaving him just a foot away from the enemy General. He stood tall, still a bit shorter than Wilbur, but he seemed so much bigger. The way he occupied the space in the room, his relaxed posture, and set expression of intention and curiosity.

Wilbur set his face to neutrality, "I want to discuss your terms for independence." He wouldn't let himself be cowed into submission by those eyes. He was here, as the leader of his country, on equal terms with Dream, to get the freedom L'Manburg deserved.

"Of course," Dream, said calmly, "I have some ideas. It all depends on what you're willing to do, Wilbur." It wasn't a question. Anything , Wilbur thought , there's nothing I won't do for my country .

"Tell me more," Wilbur requested, forcing himself not to sound overzealous. But if Dream would honor him a chance at geniune freedom he would be a fool not to take it. It was everything he'd worked for, fought for, prepared for. After Eret's betrayal he'd been forced to humble himself to a half-assed peace treaty, but now the suffering of L'Manburg could come to fruition.

Dream crossed the small distance between them, his hand snaking under Wilbur's blue coat, resting just above his belt. A sudden cold crept up his spine, and his whole body froze. His feet were rooted to the spot. He looked into Dream's eyes, and his heart began to beat faster as he saw the (intent) glistening in them. An intent not of violence or malice, one he'd ever expected to see in Dream. Lust.

The corner of his mouth was tugged upward, as he moved ever closer, so close. One small movement, and their lips would be touching.

"Wilbur," he said lowly, "you're smart, smart enough to know you don't get anything for free." Dream's other hand came to rest on his waist as well, crumpling the white fabric of his tunic. "Especially not in a war, you need to negotiate." His voice was simply dripping with intention now. Wilbur wanted to step back, but Dream's hold on him was firm, unrelenting.

"I," Wilbur started, "I understand." He felt vulnerable, gentle heat spreading from his chest and neck to his face. What kind of fucked up negotiation was this? Was Wilbur really willing to do anything Dream asked of him? It seemed like Dream wanted more than he was willing to give. "And do I have anything to negotiate with?" Wilbur asked tentatively.

"You do," Dream assured. "No money, no land, or resources, but something else I want."

Wilbur's face was fully flushed now, eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation. "And what would that be?" He inquired, fingers twitching nervously at his sides.

Dream's lips parted, and he licked them quickly before continuing, "your body." The grip he had on the other tightened, and he pulled Wilbur flush against him. Wilbur made an effort to pull his chest and shoulders back, eager to maintain any kind of distance. Dream's smile was akin to that of the Cheshire Cat, overtly wide, mistrustworthy.

Wilbur looked down at where they were connected, Dream's bony hips pressed against his own. My body for my country , he thought. Is it a trade I'm willing to make? Just once, would it be worth the humiliation? For freedom, and victory?

"I don't know if I can do that." Wilbur met Dream's eyes with hesitation in his own. He'd never been with a man, much less the enemy of his country. This was far too intimate for a war. But it was his only option, Dream had shown his battle strength again and again, and L'Manburg couldn't compete with it.

"How disappointed would they be?" Dream asked, knowing how easily he could strike a nerve with Wilbur. "Think of little Tommy, or Tubbo. Don't you want to give them their freedom? They did so much for you."

Wilbur gritted his teeth, guilt rising like water inside of him. "I know."

"Don't be selfish," Dream continued, "they took arrows for you, for their country, this is the least you can do for them." And he was right, so right it hurt. Wilbur was selfish, one night with Dream was nothing compared to the sacrifices his government had made.

Wilbur finally relented.

"You can have me," he agreed. "I'll do whatever it takes for freedom."