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As they walked, the blizzard subsided into a world of unbroken, untouched winter. The horse trudged along, the snowdrifts reaching up to his knees, but Dream didn't give the command to stop; they would arrive soon.
To the only place he knows he won't be kicked out. At least not without reason.
The snow-capped mountains formed shields, guarding and standing guard, silently observing everything. There is no room for doubt or indecision here; winter will never tolerate the weak. That is why Technoblade lives here. He has managed to negotiate with the eternal blizzards that knock down and bury uninvited guests; but they embrace him and protect his home. And the cold, which for others is aggressive and cruel, freezing the blood, for another is just a minor nuisance.
Despite its shades of blood-red, so bright and noticeable - the light hair of the sakura and the crimson cloak - the pristine snow accepted him as one of its own.
After so much time spent walking, Dream himself had learned to converse with the harsh weather. At first, it wanted to knock him down, displace him, and show that it didn't tolerate anyone else, staking its claim to territory. Snow lashed down, clogging every crack where his clothes had gaped, and the strong wind made it impossible to breathe.
On the first day, Techno found him in the middle of a field. Dream wanted to ask for a favor, for help, but winter brought him to his knees. A figure straight out of legend — massive muscles, a flowing cloak, an unshakable crown, and a sword in hand — stood before him, and the light was behind him.
Then he helped twice.
They didn't talk about it.
Only after the service was over did Blade say there was no need to fall into the snow. It was easy to bring him to his knees. But if you endure, grit your teeth, and insist that you deserve to be treated equally, then winter won't try to kill you.
“You will be able to prove that you are worthy,” were Techno’s last words, after which he turned around and left.
And the next time, following Blade's plea for help on the communicator, Dream found himself caught in a blizzard again. It battered him, knocked him down, and seemed to swing its sword at him.
When he didn't fall and reached a small wooden house, it was as if the wind had calmed down. He accepted him.
Now, riding his horse, Dream doesn't feel that battle. Nature isn't trying to destroy him, like everyone else on this server, with the exception of a few. It's as if she's greeting him, asking how his day was, hugging him, and leading him where she knows he needs to go.
It doesn't take long to spot a wooden house ahead, and to the side, an outbuilding for their own horse, which stood empty. The other animals were sheltered under a canopy from the harsh snowstorms, the boards providing reliable protection, and the glass on the sides letting in light.
"Where's Technoblade?" Dream asks quietly out loud, as if the wind could tell him, show him hoofprints in the snow. But everything is covered, and fortunately there are no voices in his head. No one can tell him.
So he simply approaches the outbuilding and dismounts Spirit, opening the double doors so he can start his horse and enter safely. Upon entering, Dream brushes off the snow clinging to himself, closing the doors before he even steps inside to keep the cold out. Techno wouldn't be happy if the other animals froze. He also doesn't like water everywhere, so they don't go inside until most of the snow has hit the floor first.
And only then does Dream lead Spirit to the stall to tie her up. Some of the water in the trough is missing, meaning Blade must have left in a hurry, as he usually makes his rounds in the morning. Sighing, he watches Spirit approach the hay by the wall and, tired, bites into a piece, tearing it out and lowering her head; he takes the iron bucket from the trough himself.
The water source is in the corner of the house, so Dream enters through the side door of the outbuilding, entering a warmer room. The wood is burning low in the fireplace. Scooping water into a bucket, he goes out to the animals, leaving the door open briefly. He pours it out and fills the trough. He grabs several split logs from large, massive trees, broken into pieces, carries them into the house, and places them in the fireplace. He scoops up more water. On his way out, he closes the door to the house and pours the water from the bucket over the horses.
"How much extra time do you need to do this every day?" Dream says idly, watching Spirit approach the water and enjoy it. "Guess people get so bored when they're retired," he grins, hearing the double doors open as he puts the bucket back in place.
Technoblade enters with his horse at his shoulder, shaking it off first, unaware of the guest. Dream only smirks softly, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting to be acknowledged. A bright green amid the dark fir planks; it stands out, just like the red in the snow. But then Blade slams the door, locking the latch, and pats his cloak, turning his back.
Part of what Dream wants to say is:
"How prudent it is to turn your back on someone who has defeated you in several sparring matches."
Part of Dream wants to laugh out loud, the same laugh that always made Tommy turn pale and Tubbo stutter, just to scare Techno.
Or maybe he could sneak up quietly, as he knows how, and jump, pinch, hug. But that wouldn't go beyond his thoughts. Dream knows he'd get his jaw knocked out for that. Despite all the retirement and rest, Technoblade is still a warrior, forged from the blood of his enemies, possessing the instincts of wild animals. Perhaps Dream doesn't want to set his bones back in place today.
So he simply waits, still undecided on a course of action. In his head, various plans for the best course of action are constantly being created, refined, and destroyed. If Techno is a weapon, then Dream is a thinker. His plans are equal to the enemy's strength.
Techno brushed the snow off himself and turned around. Dream could pinpoint the exact moment he'd been spotted — the brief pause in his movements. It was comforting. Even despite their mutual respect, they still managed to intimidate each other at times.
"Dream," Techno says in his low, natural voice. Without fear, without hope of being fooled. It's refreshing, makes him feel like a human being, not just the monster everyone calls him. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching you rust," he grins. Not like he does in the summer, in a different biome, looking at Blade's brothers. Differently. He lowers his hands and takes slow, lazy steps toward him, showing there's no urgency and he himself poses no threat, though they both know it. They can't destroy each other. "You've ignored me for so long," Dream drawls, amused.
“I didn’t expect to see you in my house,” Techno replies, reaching out for Karl’s reins and starting to lead him to Spirit.
"And yet, despite all this, you failed to notice the danger," Dream teases. There's nothing more sacred than calling out a warrior for his inattention, which directly demonstrates incompetence. It's an insult. An accusation that would have others drawing their swords and rushing into battle to defend their reputations. Not Techno. He only smirks.
“You’re not a danger,” Blade says monotonously, tying his horse next to another, glancing at the trough.
"Your brother would have said something completely different," he snaps. He knows their relationship and how far he can go with his words before he's taken to the wall with a sword to his throat. They've danced like this before, striking without hands, until someone draws the line with the other's blood.
"You poured water," Blade changes the subject, nodding toward the trough, stepping away and starting toward home. Dream grins. Techno always notices what Dream hates —imperfections. He simply could and did, no need to draw attention to it.
But they know that in any other house the trough would be half water and half air.
"I need a favor," Dream says, changing the subject, unable to bear being reminded of his actions. He follows his master, entering the house as well, enjoying the warmer atmosphere. It was still chilly in the outbuilding, but with Techno around, it was easy to ignore.
The same man, looking at the fireplace, raises an eloquent eyebrow, turning to Dream. There's amusement on his face. He's amused. He almost wants to laugh. Dream, meanwhile, wants to toss him a sword and tell him to fight, because it's easier that way. That way he can strike and have a reason.
“You’re in my house, pouring water for the horses and throwing on firewood,” amusement seeped into Techno’s voice as he spoke.
"A favor with Tommy," Dream continues, stubbornly ignoring the blush on his face beneath his mask. He already knows what he did! Enough about him!
"And you still say I'm a rusty warrior," Blade grins, sitting down on the sofa. If he could, Dream would show him otherwise. He's still on the battlefield, still fighting, and he can't stop. But they know that warriors don't pour water into their opponent's trough, or their own horses in someone else's house, or add wood to a fireplace that doesn't belong to them.
Fortunately, Techno doesn't pay any attention to this anymore, jumping into action and listening to Dream's plan, staring at him intently. When they spar afterward, and Blade, swinging a fist over his masked head, says that they can't damage his amazing brain, Dream only punches him harder.
Techno laughs, not noticing how Dream blushes.