"History. A beautiful land. Things that once were, things that could be. New beginnings, old stories. Leaders, lives, victories, losses, wars... and the future it will hold... all in this little speck of land. This blocky world. This is our story, for the world to hear."- Eret
"I heard there was a special place." Those words mean something. They mean freedom, liberty, they mean... something worth dying for. They're part of a story. A tragedy, maybe? I don't really know how to describe it. I suppose I would be biased at the end of the day, wouldn't I? Let's call it a story of revolution. Of betrayal, those who were weak and those who were strong. Of politics, of bloodshed and bloodlust… of freedom. To be honest, I'm not even sure whether it's my story. I suppose it all begins with Tommy. As it always does. Everything comes back to Tommy…
Chapter 1
For years, the house had stood in the middle of the lake. It was brick, with four doors- one on each side- and smack bang in the middle of a lake. Initially, some complained that its positioning was inconvenient, so now four bridges surrounded it, extending out into four wooden paths- a cross framing the surrounding lands. All knew of how three friends had sat on the house's roof and pledged to start a kingdom. Over time a community had developed in the lands around, and due to a complete lack of originality, they had named the centre of it all the Community House.
If you followed the path, you might eventually reach a small hill, with an unassuming door in its side. Inside sat a cave that had been transformed into a cozy little house. This hill sat perched on the edge of a cliff face from which you could overlook the whole landscape, the woods and plains, a house scattered here and there, all the way to the blue of the ocean peeking over the horizon. The owner of this hill was currently being held at knifepoint inside a tree next door.
Tommy had been having a good day. Second day in the new house and it already felt like home. Dirt walls, a stone floor, and barely any amenities to speak of: really, who could ask for more? All jokes aside, it was quite spacious, and the view was well worth it. He looked around at his meagre possessions and sighed. Travelling was made difficult if you were carrying too much: he'd practically died of exhaustion as is.
He could fix the house up later. For now, the stench of all the dead plants taking up residence was getting too much to handle. He stepped outside, to the sweet relief of a summer breeze carrying the scent of lemons. Much better, even if he was hungry now. "Wilbur probably wouldn't have even noticed the stench," he muttered. Where was Will anyway? This place was bigger than he'd expected.
He went off in search of the lemons and immediately ran across the source. Just across from his house stood an immense lemon tree. It towered over his hill, greenery swaying in the breeze, at least 20 metres tall. There was even an opening in the base of the tree which seemed almost manmade, as if… someone was living in there? Houses in caves and trees: whoever designed this neighbourhood had to be a nature god or something. Anyone who lived in a giant lemon tree obviously had good taste, so Tommy went to check it out.
The sun blazed overhead as Ponk walked home. He sighed, completely content. You just couldn't beat summer days like these, a gentle breeze and barely a care in the world. Sure, his balaclava could get a bit hot, but it was worth the sacrifice. This was a competitive world, and you needed to make yourself memorable. Others naturally stood out from the crowd, looking to be the centre of attention, but Ponk preferred distinguishing himself in small ways, like wearing a patterned orange balaclava, or being African. The second one wasn't really a choice, but no matter.
To be fair, he had chosen to live in a giant lemon tree, but that was just because it was completely awesome. No one seemed to have any idea how it had grown that large. On the whole, he was happy to lay low. He was Ponk, the friendly neighbourhood doctor. He was trustworthy, if prone to the occasional practical joke. He rarely messed with other people, and they didn't mess with him. Rarely being the operative word.
Ponk walked into his house to see a teenager rifling through his stuff, so immersed in his findings that he didn't notice his arrival. The kid seemed about sixteen, with dirty blond hair, the kind that refused to stay down, and then insulted anyone who challenged it. He was wearing a white t-shirt with bright red sleeves and nodding appreciatively at a can of Coca-Cola in Ponk's fridge. "This guy really has good taste," the kid muttered. Tommy turned around grinning to see a pocket knife being pointed at him.
"Hi, nice to meet you," Tommy said. "Do you need anything?"
Ponk stared. "This is my house."
Tommy sighed. "Damn it, I was hoping that would work. Okay, so I have three very good reasons why you shouldn't kill me." Tommy strode confidently past him, outside.
Ponk felt he should say something. "Look, I'm not going to kill-"
"Just hang on." Tommy sat down and began to stretch. Ponk waited, bemused. "Sorry, cramp." He stood up, nodded to Ponk, and took off like a cheetah down the path.
Tommy had lots of practice running, mostly from situations like this. Usually it was best to run first, ask questions later. Heart racing, he felt the wind whipping around his face, his feet slamming into the wood. There was no way Ponk could catch up to him. He glanced behind to see he was right, and had a decent lead. He looked forward again to be immediately confronted with a worrying lack of ground. With no time to react, he ran right over the downward slope, tumbling forward, until he finally came to a stop. As the world came back into focus, he felt himself being helped up by Ponk. He pushed him off, ankle throbbing with pain, now noticing a green figure approaching them, slowly moving through a heat haze. Tommy rubbed his eyes, and the figure came into focus.
The newcomer wore boots and a plain green hoodie. He had dark blond hair, almost brown. Nothing too complex, although the all green ensemble was a bit odd. Who was this meant to be, Robin Hood? Then the figure raised his head and Tommy noticed his most striking feature. On his face sat a round, white, shiny mask, obscuring all features. It was plain white except for two eye holes, and a broad smile. Tommy couldn't yet tell whether the smile was meant to be comforting or disconcerting. He settled on disconcerting. "Who the hell are you?" Tommy demanded.
"My name's Dream. You'd know me as your king."
Tommy stared at Dream. His mind was racing with questions. Why was his face covered by a mask? And how were you meant to respond to something like that? Besides, something about the voice of this "king" seemed strangely familiar. "You're the king? But if the kingdom's called the Dream SMP..." The dots connected, and Tommy burst into laughter. "Did you name this place after yourself? How egotistical can you get?" Dream stared at Tommy. The silence stretched out, the mask making him impossible to read, until Ponk finally pushed between them.
"Dream, he was taking my things." Ponk said. He whirled on Tommy. "Sapnap sent you, didn't he?"
Tommy frowned. "Who's Sapnap? Also, I was not stealing, I was only browsing. I didn't actually take anything."
"Browsing? My home is not a store."
Dream cleared his throat. "If I can give my opinion…" They fell silent, Tommy reluctantly. "You're new here, aren't you. There's no need to worry, I'll let you off this time. But stealing isn't allowed, okay?" Tommy's mouth shot open. "I was not stealing, and he pulled a knife on me, you're going to bloody reprimand me but not him?"
An upbeat voice from behind caught them all off guard. "Hi." Tommy turned around to be faced with a brown haired teen carrying a large plastic bag. He barely came up to Tommy's shoulders, and was glancing between the three of them, evidently trying to work out what was happening. "Oh, am I interrupting something?" Tommy and Ponk remained silent, mirrored expressions of confusion. Dream smiled, and let out a loose chuckle.
"Should I go?" the newcomer asked. "You can stay Tubbo," Dream said. Tubbo brightened. "Great!" He had a slightly high-pitched, enthusiastic voice, and seemed completely unaware as to what he had walked in on.
The arrival of the newcomer- Tubbo- had defused the tension. Ponk turned to Tommy. "So you're sure you weren't sent by Sapnap?"
"If I knew who that was, I could answer your question." Ponk visibly relaxed.
"So no hard feelings?" Tommy asked.
"Nah, it's all good. Just don't break into my house again, ok?"
"Great, then it's all sorted out." Dream said.
Tommy stared at him, still thinking. What was it about him? His accent, self-assuredness, and the sheer nerve to go waltzing around wearing a mask... He sighed. "You're American, aren't you?"
Dream cocked his head. "And what if I am?"
Tommy groaned. "Our ruler is American? Really?"
"I suppose you'd be British then." Tommy puffed out his chest further than was necessary, and broadened his shoulders. Of course he was British. How could anyone mistake him for anything else?
Tubbo piped up, "Oh, I'm British too,"
"I'm South African," Ponk interjected.
Tommy turned, annoyed the conversation was being sidetracked from how awful Americans were. "Not really relevant, Ponk."
Dream walked over to Tommy, placing his hand on his shoulder.
"This has been fun, but try not to start any more fights, Tommy. I know you're only a child, but it's no excuse." Tommy gritted his teeth.
"I am not a child. You understand?" Dream froze. He took one long, piercing look at him. Through the holes in the mask, Tommy caught a glimpse of the king's green eyes, staring right back into his. "It was nice to meet you, Tommy. Welcome to the Dream SMP." Then he strode off.