Dream doubles over, trying to catch his breath. He's been running all around the multiverse, trying to catch Ink and get his staff back. The machine that he's borrowing from Science Sans was starting to get uncomfortably warm and is now making a strange humming noise that Dream did not like. Sci did mention it was a prototype.
Dream straightens up, checking the machine first to make sure that it wouldn't explode, not that it would kill him, but it would hurt and Sci would be angry (and ecstatic that it lasted so long). He decides that giving it a few minutes rest would be ideal in keeping it functional and turns it off. He looks up and checks his surroundings, smiling at the 'star' cave of an underground world.
Waterfall was always Dream's favorite, just barely beating the Ruins. The peaceful sounding brooks that were always up for babbling a hello, the waterfalls that loudly proclaimed their beauty. Then, there's the stars. Well, shiny rocks that are treated like stars. While they couldn't hold a candle flame to the actual night sky, they were beautiful in their own right and Dream loves them. He could spend forever just looking at them, trying to copy their gleam with his own eyelights.
He finds a nice nook to settle down in, one that amplifies the talking streams around him and shows a clear view of the stars. He stares at them, each twinkling gleam reminding him of someone's hopes and wishes. These peaceful moments are what he loves, what he strives for. He can glow just as brightly as any of those stars and the only one stopping him is himself.
Not today. Today, he closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and drowns out the voices, allowing his natural glow to over power those of the stars, to outshine all that dares to compete. He opens his sockets, no shadows remaining inside them, to see a golden throne room replacing the cave bit by bit. Before him stand two royal throne chairs, one bright and cheerful and surrounded by happy golden flowers that are wildly out of control, the other midnight black but approachable, lovable and friendly in it's own right. Black flowers grow around it, orderly and gorgeous.
Dream approaches his chair, giggling at the feel of it beneath his fingers. He knows that this is all in his mind, that he could never actually touch it again, but this memory was so real to him and made him so happy that he didn't want to believe it wasn't real. All he wanted was to go home, and here he is; home.
He looks behind the throne chairs, happily observing the portrait behind them. There they stand, happy and together and smiling. Dream with his usual attire and staff held above his head proudly, and Nightmare next to him, standing confidently with white bones, a golden crown, and purple and black and blue princely clothes, a small smile touching his lips and kindness in his eyes. Not a hint of despair to be seen. They were both so young, so happy and carefree.
Dream looks behind him. There stand his people, humans and monsters all smiling at them. They were so happy to see them back. They love their princes.
No, Dream thinks. They only love me. They don't love him like I do. They never did.
Suddenly, his people didn't look so happy to see him. They take the forms of terrifying beasts. They whisper and rasp in his mind.
Why didn't you save us?
Kill him.
He's evil.
Hate him.
Save us.
Dream turns from those terrifying beasts and runs.
You're our prince, help us.
Our prince.
Our chosen prince.
Help us.
Kill him.
He holds his head, trying to block out their voices.
Help us.
Save us.
Kill him.
Save us.
KILL HIM.
They begin to scream, he screams back.
SAVE US!
HELP US!
KILL! HIM!
"NO!" he yells so loudly that his voice cracks. It echoes back to him, bouncing around him. He repeats it over and over with the echos, "No! NO! No! No. No… no…"
Hours past. They don't stop, so he doesn't stop.
Kill him.
"No."
Save us.
" … no…"
Help us.
" … … no…"
Over and over they demand, over and over he cannot give them what they want. The Nightmare he loves may never be with him again, but he's still Dreams brother, Dream could never kill his brother. So he sits, cornered on his throne, and repeating himself to his subjects till he goes hoarse and is no longer able to speak. He still repeats no to every plea. He doesn't even look at them anymore. His eyes remain closed, his hands covering his ears (though it does no good as they just echo back in his mind), and he remains curled on his golden throne, now wishing for nothing more than to be anywhere but home. Anywhere but here.
A hand lands on his shoulder. He doesn't look. He doesn't move. He simply says (mouths) no. They tilt his head up, no. They wipe away the tears, no.
They speak.
"Dream"
No.
"You're okay, Dream."
No.
"Can you Hear me, Dream?"
No.
Their hands leave him. He doesn't want them to go, they sound so familiar. He takes a breath and tries to call them back, please. The attempt has him coughing. His throat feels raw, like someone shoved blades down it or he swallowed acid. The hands come back though, and that voice joins them in a soft 'shhhhh' as he hacks out lungs he doesn't have. When he finally stops coughing, he latches onto one of the hands, refusing to let them go.
His people don't stop talking, but they do grow quieter, quiet enough for him to hear his own thoughts and be able to do more than just mindlessly repeat no. He opens his eyes just a crack to still see the throne room he used to love. He quickly closes them again. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to see this, but he is, so he latches more securely to the body connected to the hands and hides there.
If only Nightmare was here. Nightmare had always protected him. Nothing bad had ever happened when Nightmare and Dream had been together.