MCYT SBI OneShots

DreamSMP

dreamSMP but make it ✨realistic✨

~~~

"Fuck!" The young prince cursed, slamming his palm up against the table. Dream ran a hand through his dirty blond hair, huffing exasperatedly as he glanced across the war room, his generals seeming to be hesitant to listen to the young adolescent's decrees. Motherfuckers, he scoffed internally, trying to pull himself together. Like it was his fault his father died and left him to take the throne early.

"If we draft the farmers we might have enough numbers to overpower them," Dream proclaimed, staring his generals down with his fiery eyes. "We can't afford to lose the Western border, and overwhelming them is the only solution to keep it."

"But Your Excellency," The general in charge of the largest squadron began objecting as expected, tone clearly signaling that he did not like calling Dream Your Excellency at all. Dream tempted to cut him off from how annoyingly condescending he looked at him. "Cutting the food supply short would be a grave mista-"

"Well, right now its our only option!" Dream shot back, gaze fixed intently on the map in front of him that displayed the nation's defenses. "It's a risk, but it's our only hope to win, or at least muster up a draw. Without the extra numbers they'll easily take the Western Border in a week's time, and from there it will be smooth sailing before they take all the important cities."

"We have to draft more than we need to defend the West though," Dream continued, his mind working overtime to try and fix the kinks in his plan, which was somehow better than all of theirs combined as shoddy as it was. "We'll need enough to force them to accept a treaty as quickly as possible. If the battle lasts for more than a few weeks we'll be utterly fucked. Our troops will need more food, and since we won't exactly have any farmers to supply them anymore, we'll just have to hope that the large numbers will be enough to perhaps scare them into a draw."

The generals murmured amongst themselves, surely some of them going on about the insolence of this bratty adolescent prince-turned-king refusing to listen to the trusted generals of the court instead of his actual plan. Dream didn't particularly care. In his eyes, this was the most probable way of retaining their nation, and he was not about to squander their last chance at victory. And he was most definitely not going to let his generals undermine and usurp his authority.

The generals eventually reached a consensus: The remaining farmers would be drafted in a last ditch effort to overpower the enemy. Dream smiled, everything clicking into place for the war's final battle, as well as his kingship.

~~~

"Where are you going, Dad?" Tommy asked, confused as to why his father was packing up a bag. The child's father looked down at the small boy besides him, a hiccup escaping him while tears pricked his eyes. With a grief greater than a boy his age could understand, his father wrapped his arms around Tommy, squeezing him so tightly Tommy couldn't help but whine. His father tousled his hair while he chuckled through suppressed sobs, holding his son as though he might never see him again.

"It's going to be okay, Tom," He assured Tommy, picking the child up with one grand swoop, smiling as warmly as he could for him, just in case this would be Tommy's last memory of him. "Dad's going to do his best to come back, okay? I promise, I'll do everything I can to come back Tom. You're going to be okay, you just have to wait a while. Can you do that for me?"

Tommy wasn't stupid enough to not know what the letter his father received read now. His face fell as he bit his lip, now pulling his father in for another tight hug while whining for him to stay with him, to not go to that awful war. His father reassured him, consoled his childish sobbing until night fell. Tommy remembered feeling himself being put to bed half-asleep, cheeks tear-stained and arms curled tight around his father's neck.