Chapter Text
Tommy POV
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Wings. Tommy had wings.
Big, beautiful wings had begun to grow from Tommy’s back when he was merely a child, four, maybe five years old. They’d gotten bigger, more beautiful as he’d grown, although Tommy could feel them becoming more and more of a burden.
They reminded him of his father, of when he was a child. They remined him of they days he’d spend out in the woods with Phil and Techno, and the warmth of the cabin as they exchanged stories.
But most of all, the reminded him of Wilbur. The one person who had always been there for him. The one person he lost.
Now he sat, cheek pressed against the cool stone floor of his tent, a thin blanket the only thing keeping him…warm. He had no flint and steel, no wood, no way of lighting even a small fire. He knew he could go and find the supplies, but going out at night was a death trap, he knew better.
Four months.
He’d been in exile for almost four months now.
Ghostbur had disappeared three weeks in. Ranboo had stopped writing to him a two months in. He’d heard nothing of his family, he supposed Technoblade and Phil were off, having their own adventures. They probably didn’t know Tommy had even been exiled.
Not even Tubbo had visited.
He couldn’t deny that it hurt. Knowing what Dream said was true, knowing his friends didn’t care about him anymore. Knowing his father didn’t care.
It made him dislike his wings. memories would flood back every time he looked at them, every time Dream sat him down, plucking at his baby feathers.
They reminded him of Phil, they reminded him of the early days of L’manberg, where he’d fly high in the skies, Wilbur watching from below. Before his brother went positively insane, that is.
Sometimes he wished he didn’t inherit his father’s wings. although he knew there was no changing it. They were useless to him now anyway. Dream had banned flying in his exile, and Tommy knew he had no choice but to comply.
He feared what Dream would do to his wings if he didn’t.
With a sigh, the boy shook his head, closing his eyes to listen to the sound of the ocean lapping at the sand. A light breeze blew through a hole in his tent, making him shiver, and Tommy knew he was instore for another sleepless night.
~
Dawn had just broke above the horizon as Tommy dragged himself from makeshift bed. He rubbed his eyes, the bags prominent on his face. He was thin, underweight, and his stomach rumbled as he looked through his barrels, searching for any left-over food from the day before. He managed to find a few scraps of bread, and he shoved them down his throat eagerly, settling the ache is his stomach.
He stretched, exhaustion plaguing his eyes as he headed into Logstedshire, opening the door and sliding down the ladder to his hidden chests.
Tommy knew if dream ever discovered them, he’d be fucked. He knew the man would punish him, but whatever free will he had left was telling him to rebel, to rebel against Dream, against his exile, against his friends. And, although Logstedshire was now where he stayed, he still longed to go back. He longed to be loved again, with his friends, his family. He longed to go home.
He checked over the chests, re-organizing the contents and putting on a new set of armor. Then he climbed out from the hole, stretching his wings and sealing it off. He flapped a few times, sitting down in a not so comfy chair. He brushed the dust off his wings, cringing slightly at the sight of them. His feathers were mattered, and they no longer held the shine they used to. Sighing, he stood, strapping a sword to his back to head out for his daily hunt. The only way to restore his wings to their former glory was to eat more, and although he didn’t particularly care about them, he knew he could at least make them look presentable.
~
Tommy dragged himself back to camp a few hours later. He was fatigued, his eyes drooping. He’d only managed to catch a few animals and was heading home with another fruitless hunt.
He shrugged off his sword, discarding it into his ender chest, the iron reflecting the sun. Then, he hobbled over to his smoker, turning it on and beginning to cook the little meat he’d managed to collect. He watched it for a moment, the heat making him sweat, before he headed over to Logstedshire, going through the chests for a bucket.
Eventually he found one, the blisters on his hands burning slightly as he held the cool metal. He walked over to the ocean, filling the bucket before he headed back, placing it back into a chest. Finally, he sat down, wrapping his wings round himself as he closed his eyes, eager to give his fatigued body a rest.
~
“Tommy.” A voice roused the boy from his doze. He opened his eyes, jumping slightly as Dream placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Dream?” Tommy looked up at the man, a smile on his face. Dream’s mask smiled back, the slight cracks in the material making Tommy avert his eyes. Dream laughed, patting his shoulder. Dream was his only friend, the bitter betrayal of his other friends making Tommy only like the man more. He didn’t mind when Dream got angry at him. He didn’t mind getting hit. He didn’t mind watching Dream blow up his stuff. He didn’t mind it when they sat down to pluck out the baby feathers from his wings.
Sure, it was scary…but, as long as they were friends, right?
Dream shifted, running a hand through the loose hairs around his mask. “Come on, you got to put your armor in the hole.” He pulled out his netherite spade, its enchanted tip shimmering a bright purple. He chose a place, close to the only room in Logstedshire, and began to dig down. Tommy watched him for a moment, not thinking of anything.
Then the fear set it. The chests-the chests were directly where he was digging. Tommy felt himself move, but he froze as a loud thud rang through the small clearing. Dream paused, starting at the ground. He knelt, opening the chests with ease, and pulling out its contents-ender pearls, iron, an axe, a sword. Food. Pictures from before his exile-
Tommy began to shake. “Dream-”
“What is this?” Dream’s voice shook, his knuckles white with anger. He stood, walking over to the boy slowly. “Tommy, what is this.” He pointed down to the now uncovered chests. The blonde looked down, lowering his wings in shame.
“Dream-please I’m sorry…”
“You were hiding things from me-what were you planning?”
Tommy shook his head. “I don’t know.” Dream stopped, slowly turning toward the blonde. He walked over slowly, lifting his hand and bringing it down onto Tommy’s face. Tommy felt his cheek sting, Dream slapping him. He felt tears prick his eyes, but he refused to cry.
Dream pulled out his axe. Tommy froze. “Dream-what-”
“Get down.” Tommy obeyed, too scared to say otherwise. Deep down, he knew he should fight back. He could run, find somewhere else to live, far away from Dream and the SMP.
But he had no will left. And he could feel the last of it slipping away as he lay on the ground, the dust covering his sweaty cheek.
Dream ran a finger along the inside of his wing, a slight chuckle leaving his mouth. Tommy wriggled, the touch making his shiver.
His wings were sensitive, they held the ending to a lot of nerves.
“You were trying to rebel went you? You’re in exile for a reason Tommy!” the masked man slammed a foot against his head, forcing it to the ground. Tommy writhed, trying to escape from the grip. “I gave you so many chances Tommy! But this is too far.”
Everything happened so quickly. One minute, Tommy had been peacefully dozing, the next, Dream had his axe lodged into Tommy’s wing, right at its base.
Tommy screamed, agony rippling through his back, his head. He felt the blood begin to leak into his top, the warm substance almost sticky. He tried to speak, tried to explain-but every time he opened his mouth a wail was found instead.
Dream chuckled, leaning down to the boy’s ear. “Tommy, this is what you get for disobeying me.” He said, plucking out a few of his baby feathers, as he had done so many times before.
Dream lifted his axe, slamming it into the boys wing again. And again.
The pain was so much. It ripped through his back, his chest. Everything was on fire. The world was a mess of dreams voice, his own screams, and the distant hum of the sea lapping at the shore. Blood splattered his back, the ground, the red substance warm against his neck.
Then it stopped. Dream pulled back, Tommy’s blood covering the lower part of his clothes. “I’ll be back in two days.” He said, admiring his blood-splattered axe. That was the last Tommy heard as he watched Dream walk away through his blurred vision. Everything was slowly going numb, the pain in his wings drifting away as his vision darkened, then darkened again.
Tommy passed out.