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He woke up when someone smacked his face.
Gasping, Tommy forced his eyes open. His head hurt. It hurt a lot , like when he’d passed out after not having food or water for three days and slammed his head on the cobble stone streets of his old city. Bright light stabbed into his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment. Tried to take in what he was doing. Where he was.
“Open your eyes, prince.” A harsh voice demanded. Rough fingers wrapped themselves in his hair and his head was yanked back. Crying out in pain, Tommy opened his eyes again. There was a cloaked figure on a throne. Leaning forwards, they grinned wickedly, the only part of his face they could see. Everything was sort of…foggy at the edges. Like he’d been drugged.
“Wh—what, who?” He forced out, slurring the words. With a scoff, they braced their chin against a gloved palm.
“Hello, there, little prince.” The cloaked figure said. Tommy barely had enough time to register where he was, what they looked like, before pain erupted in his back and stomach. Heat crashed over his head, swallowed him like a river. Gasping, he grabbed at his stomach, looked down.
There was a sword stabbed through his side.
Taking another shaky breath, Tommy swallowed, lifted his head. “Wh-what—who are you?” The cloaked figure didn’t reply. Instead, they continued to sit on a twisted throne made of ivory and ice spikes. The cloak itself was white, wrapped around their shoulders and linked beneath their collarbones with a thin gold chain. Underneath, there was a gold-lined white shirt. Around their neck, a weird-looking symbol hung on a gold chain. There really wasn’t any way to describe it, it almost looked like a sandwich with a bite taken out of the top of it. “What’s with the sandwich pendant?” Tommy asked, sucking in a breath and fighting past the pain. It really, really hurt. In all honesty, he did want to scream. But the sandwich thing was just confusing him way too much and he didn’t want to focus on the injury.
Glancing down, they slid a hand beneath the pendant and looked at it. Golden bracers glinted in the bright light shining down around them. Then, looking up, they seemed to look at Tommy. “Well I can understand where you might have been coming from with that…it’s waves. Water waves. Not a sandwich.”
“Oh. Well, it just looks like one of those crustless sandwiches, you know.” Making a face, Tommy said, “You might want to like, change it? Maybe? Unless if you’re okay with it being mistaken by a sandwich—”
“How are you the Lost Heir of the Antarctic Empire?” They asked, slumping to the side and pinching the bridge of their nose. Clearly, they weren’t very impressed. Well, that makes sense. I’m not exactly an impressive person, Tommy mused. Then he paused, thinking past the pain. Well, actually, he was probably going into shock. He couldn’t feel the heat as much as he used to.
But still, Tommy was formulating a plan.
It was a stupid plan.
But it was a plan.
And it all started with him being as annoying of a prick as possible. “Why can’t you change it? It looks like a sandwich—”
“You don’t just change an emblem , child. Have you learned nothing of being royal?” They asked, looking at him. On either side of Tommy, the guards sort of snorted and laughed.
“Nope!” Tommy replied, popping the ‘p’ as obnoxiously as he could. Instead of just putting up with it, though, the cloaked figure reacted…appropriately, Tommy supposed.
“Ugh, just knock him out. I’m sick of him.” They said, waving a hand. Before Tommy could ask what they meant, he heard movement. Something slammed into the back of his head and neck.
Once again, everything went dark.
+++
He came to with fingers resting on either side of his jaw and his back resting against the ground.
Weakly, he reached up and tried to shove at whoever it was. “No, no. Stop.” He whispered, shaking his head and turning to the side. There was blood under his nose, he could feel it crusted there. More was in the corners of his mouth. A coppery aftertaste filled his mouth.
“Ssh, Tommy, it’s alright.” A familiar voice said, and Tommy cracked his eyes open. It took more effort than he would have liked, and he looked up to see Eret leaning over him. Behind him, Dream was battling with the cloaked figure.
It was…oddly elegant, in all honestly.
Grabbing onto Eret’s arm, Tommy forced his way upright and clung onto them. Dodging to the side, the cloaked figure struck for Dream. The general did a flip, twisted on the landing and slammed his foot into the person’s ribs. They went stumbling back with a curse and Dream dodged in. Smashing an elbow into their chest, he turned, grabbed a pair of slim, unusual looking daggers from somewhere, and surged forwards again to slash at their neck. After the second strike, they’d managed to recover. Before Dream could slash their throat, they flicked their hand up.
Fingers locked around Dream’s wrist and they twisted, flipping him. Chest heaving, Tommy looked to Eret. “We have to help him—” He coughed out, feeling more of the coppery aftertaste in his throat.
Eret, meanwhile, had different plans. Gently pushing him to the ground, they held a hand above his chest. Fingers spread, they formed a white circle of sorts in the air. Tommy could see the swirling runes along the outer circle, between the two bands. In the middle, there was an odd-shaped star, almost like a twenty-sided dice. Twisting their fingers like the circle was a lock and their hand was the key, Eret stared blankly forwards. Their eyes seemed to glow brighter, swirls of white light going from them to Tommy. A healing spell? He wondered, frowning slightly. Still, he couldn’t move to protest, watching instead with macabre interest as the wound to his stomach— right, I got impaled. Why didn’t I feel it? —started to seal itself naturally. All that was left was a little scar, some raised skin but nothing more.
At least, until he moved.
Groaning in pain, he fell back. The entirety of his stomach was sore like he’d spent days unable to keep anything down, and his back felt like he was a thousand years old. Catching his arm, Eret said quietly, “Stay down, Tommy.”
He glanced at them. Underneath Eret’s eyes, there were dark circles that hadn’t been there a moment before. They were a purple, bruised colour, like he hadn’t slept in weeks, months, maybe even years. What the—? Blinking, Tommy looked back to where Dream was still fighting.
Dropping down, Dream swept their legs out from beneath them, eyes narrowed above the white mask he always wore beneath his armour. Apparently, he must have been woken from sleep recently. His hair wasn’t its usual, stylish messy, it was just messy. Eret didn’t look top-notch either, even before they’d done the spell. More like he’d been on a really, really long shift of night watch when he and Dream had gone off. I wonder if they went searching for me.
Does that mean my dad and brothers are worried? The thought struck a pang of guilt through his chest. It was almost worse than the sword. Well, actually, no. The sword was pretty bad.
Dream lunged for his opponent. His dagger slammed down towards their face, managed to cut their neck. In the next moment, they kicked a leg up and smashed it into Dream’s stomach, flipped them. There was a harsh ripping sound, the smack of muscle on hard-packed earth and a horrifying shatter-snap-crack as Dream crashed into the throne. It broke around him.
Meanwhile, Dream’s mysterious opponent stumbled to their feet, cloak torn at the edges of their hood.
Tossing their head, they glared down at Dream, holding a spike of ice the length of a pike. Their face was hidden from Tommy and Eret’s side. However, Dream could see everything. His eyes widened for a second, then narrowed dangerously. Tommy braced his arms against the floor, readied himself to run. Panting, Dream got up as well. One of his hands was clamped around his upper arm. Blood dripped from a few injuries, nothing too serious.
“You.” The general growled, not giving any more context. Brandishing the ice spike, his opponent laughed.
“Nice to see you again. I’ll tell Dad you said hello.” Dream’s eyes widened, flashing with fury. Growling, he snatched one of the ice spikes. As he did, it shifted and changed . Bright green and gold swirled along Dream’s arms, similar to the markings that had shown on Wilbur’s face and on Eret’s when they’d used their own spells. Just like with both, it was a different pattern. Except something caught Tommy’s eye, and he frowned. Something to think about later, though.
As Dream grabbed the ice spike and threw it towards his opponent, swirls of the same colour running through his skin sparked along. It shifted, the tip sharpening into something more like a harpoon. It drove through the other person’s arm.
Gasping, they grabbed at the injury, glared at him. “Go back to where you came from. And stay out of the Empire.” Dream spat, taking another breath. His shoulders were shaking, and he had his back to Tommy and Eret for the moment.
Holding out a hand, the cloaked figure made a double-handed gesture Tommy didn’t quite catch but was pretty sure he didn’t want to repeat until he knew what it was. A vortex of swirling gold and orange magic swirled behind them, and they stepped threw with a gesture that Tommy did know. Then, they were gone.
Panting, Dream turned to look at Eret and Tommy, then dropped to his knees with a shaky breath. Eventually, Eret hauled himself to his feet, strode over to Dream. “Dream.” They whispered, dropping down beside him. “We need to get Tommy home.”
“Right.” Dream murmured. His voice shook. “Right.” Slowly, he got to his feet, aided Eret in doing the same. Then, he went to Tommy’s side, helped him up. “Come on, kid. Let’s…let’s get you home.” Nodding, Tommy followed them out into the sunlight, squinting the whole time.
+++
When they got back to the castle, Techno and Phil were gone.
Wilbur was there, and he immediately dragged Tubbo over to treat Tommy in the sunlight of one of the towers. It wasn’t that that was where they stopped. Tommy just…really wanted to feel the sunlight on his skin. Something was up.
“Is everything alright, Wilbur?” Tommy asked, lying on his back while Tubbo and Wilbur investigated the remnants of the injury to his stomach. Off to the side, Dream was leaning against the castle wall, arms crossed and speaking with another person. This one, Tommy didn’t recognise, he just knew that he was…someone close to Dream. Eret was drinking some water on the other side. “Wilbur?”
“Everything’s fine, Tommy. Tubbo, there’s no residual magic?” Wilbur asked, looking up to meet the young healer’s gaze. Following his gaze, Tommy watched as Tubbo shook his head. “Alright, good. Tommy, here.” Wilbur threw a blanket over him, had him sit up and immediately started fretting over him.
“Hey, hey! Big man, I’m alright, I’m alright.” Smacking at his arms, Tommy wrinkled his nose, pulled the blanket over his shoulders himself. “I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
A shadow passed over their heads, followed by a second one.
Immediately, Tommy found his gaze drawn upwards. He wasn’t the only one. The bright arctic sunlight beamed down behind two figures. Bright red wings extended, the sun behind them glittering through like through stained glass. Pink braid whipping to the side with every powerful wingbeat, Techno landed on the cobblestones of the walkway. Behind him, Phil’s own wings shone in all their glory, full shades of bright emerald green, peacock blue, and deep, vivid purples and ultramarines almost glowing in the day. Both men’s capes fell behind their backs, Phil’s wings folding up beneath them and Techno’s dissipating like blood evaporating in heat.
Both of them strode over to Tommy and Wilbur. “Tommy.” Phil breathed. Dropping to his knees in front of Tommy, he threw his arms around Tommy’s neck and pulled him into a hug. A sob shook the king’s shoulders. Almost respectfully, the others all averted their gazes, except for the royalty. Techno crouched down, simply touched Tommy’s shoulder and looked at him.
“You’re alright.” Techno breathed, both like he was trying to reassure Tommy and himself at the same time. Either way, Tommy nodded, smiled at him and reached out. Techno grabbed onto his hand. “You’re alright.”
“Yeah, I am.” Tommy’s eyes darted to Dream, who was looking at him. There was relief and concern warring in the general’s eyes. Beside him, the other solider—a young man with tawny skin, black hair, and brownish-grey eyes—turned to look at Tommy. Smiling, he dipped his head almost in a greeting, and then looked back to Dream and started speaking with him more. “Dad, I have a question.”
Sitting back, Phil ran his hands over Tommy’s hair and his face, holding his cheeks. Wrinkling his nose, Tommy stared at him, but didn’t pull away. “What is it?”
Holding his gaze, “How does magic colour work in someone’s bloodline?”
Wilbur and Techno exchanged a look behind their father’s back.
+++
Footsteps thudded on cobblestones, splashed in a few puddles of what one could only hope was water and not something else.
A white cloak, torn at the side of the hood and frayed along the bottom edge, stained from its once perfect, snowy-white immaculate state, flashed in the torchlight coming from each sconce. Green-hazel eyes narrowed, they kept walking. People shrank away from them in the shadows. One person, whose skin seemed to be entirely made of diamond and glowing blue from within, looked at them with wide brown eyes as they passed, wrapped crystalline fingers around the bars. Another scowled over their shoulder, eyes glowing red in the darkness as vines wrapped over their arms and small orbs of magic floated around them, glowing dimly.
Making their way to the final cell at the end of the hallway, they yanked the door open with much more force than they needed. Inside, the prisoner seemed to stir slightly.
The thick scent of underwater caverns leached through the world around them. As they closed the door, a sheet of water crashed down around them. A black and white tail flicked away from the spray, twitched and fell limp against the mossy stones beneath their dangling feet. Their arms were raised above their head. With every hoarse, mist-filled breath, they seemed to be labouring more and more.
Stalking over, the person yanked off their glove and grabbed the poor prisoner by their jaw. Cruel fingers dug into black and white scales, and green-hazel eyes narrowed. Dirty blond locks of hair fell over tanned, freckled skin. The other person sucked in a breath, red and green eyes cracking open and blinking weakly at them.
“There you are. Finally awake.” They sneered viciously. “Now, we’re going to put you to use, or you’re going to get the water again. You wouldn’t like that, now would you?” Weakly, the prisoner shook their head. Leaning closer, the person spoke. “Now, you’re going to tell me something.”
“What—” Coughing hoarsely, the water clearly having settled itself in their lungs, the prisoner cleared their throat. Eyes fluttering, they looked up. There was a glaze of heat across their features, pain and fever having taken their toll. Blue, red, and purple blood dripped from injuries cut across their too-thin form. “What do you want to know?”
Leaning closer, the person tightened their grip. A deadly light danced in their eyes. Along their skin, the gold and orange light swirled and brightened.
“Tell me everything you know about the Lost Heir of the Antarctic Empire.”