Chapter Text
Theseus’ forearms throbbed and shook as he scaled down the tall tower. The makeshift rope he crafted from clothes and blankets kept him from falling. The makeshift rope wasn’t the strongest, but it got the job done. Each time the rope slipped, Theseus’ heart jumped in his throat. The ground had to be around six hundred feet below him; it was enough to kill him. His bare feet occasionally made contact with the freezing brick wall in front of him. A shiver ran up his spine as the stone dug into the pads of his feet. He could already tell they would be sore the next day. His hands burned, bright red from the rope, but he barely felt it from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. For somebody who has never climbed a rope before, let alone an unstable rope from six hundred feet in the air, he thinks he’s doing pretty well.
Theseus doesn’t dare to look down, taking the advice from people in the stories he’s read, he keeps his focus on the rope and makes sure his hands don’t slip. But his hands burned so much. He ached to give himself just even the slightest bit of relief, however, he knew if he were to, it would end in his demise. Clenching his jaw, Theseus continued down the rope, ignoring the pounding in his ears. He placed his foot on the next stone, moving down the rope. His foot slipped, causing him to grip the rope harder. The heart in his chest stalled as a spike of fear jumped in his chest. He was so terrified it was nauseating, anticipating seeing the head of one of his fathers to pop up from his window at any moment. Each time he looked up, he could swear he saw either pink or yellow above him. However, the only thing that greeted his eyes were the twinkling stars. With that thought, Theseus quickened his pace down the tower. He was so close to freedom, he couldn't afford to be slow. Not now.
He was about a story down from the ground when he decided to let go of the rope. The tall bed of grass below will break his fall, right? It was only maybe ten feet below him. And his bag was right next to the pile. Theseus sucked in a breath and bit his tongue. Finally, he gave his aching arms sweet relief as he let go of the rope. As he fell, he realized that perhaps his vision failed him. His stomach seemed to become one with his throat as bile rose to the top of his stomach. The fall was much farther than he thought. A sharp pain shocked the small boy’s legs. Pain flared up his ankles, right to his knees. Thus, he fell right on his knees, his palms catching his body from hitting the grass. The green grass stared back at the boy. Tears fell from his face, but he couldn’t let the sob come out. Now was not the time. He had to get up; he had to leave! Breathing, Theseus attempted to stand only to let a whimper escape his mouth. Cursing himself mentally, Theseus looked behind him just to double check that no one had seen his grade escape. Not seeing a soul, Theseus immediately turned from his prison and sprinted towards the forest surrounding the castle. The grass that grew taller than him protected him from the naked eye. He was thankful that nobody bothered with gardening outside of the castle.
He practically leaped into the forest once he was close enough, taking shelter behind a bush as he peeked back at the castle, taking it in one last time. The tears threatened to fall once more, but Theseus only swallowed and forced the tears back once more. Through the window, he could see Technoblade. The pink hair was all he could see. Theseus squinted, attempting to see who Technoblade was facing, but the man was blocking his view. His gaze narrowed in on the messy braid was still intact from the night before. He had taught Theseus how to braid. It almost made him feel guilty since the moment was peaceful, happy even. Any sign of guilt washed away though once he remembered the rest of the night's events. He shuttered, before trailing deeper into the forest.
He doesn’t know how long he walked, sprinting occasionally once he regained energy. All he knew was that the sun was setting, and his legs felt like wet noodles. The biting pain from when he fell still made his ankles ache. The dew from the ground slowly formed, making each step that much more cold. Perhaps he should have thought about gathering more than just a small bag of things. Perhaps he should have gotten shoes. The thought made the boy laugh. The laugh turned into a sob, which turned into Theseus collapsing into the grass. The tears flowed freely, but the sadness that was once in his chest was gone. Instead, giddy happiness filled the void that was his heart. He rolled onto his back and faced the roofed forest that would offer him protection for the night. He did it. He’s free, finally.
“I’m free,” Theseus panted, before cracking into a toothy grin, “I’m free!” It’s just him now, Theseus against the world! He doesn’t need anybody else, he just needs himself; also Clementine and Henry.
He sighed fondly in memory of his friends. As if right on cue, Clementine emerged from a bush. Theseus admired her large brown wings as the moth danced around his head, before perching herself on his nose. He guessed running away was a good idea, since Clementine is here instead of Henry. He loves Henry, but he only shows up whenever something horrible is about to happen. Henry is a moth, like Clementine, only he has white wings with black dots. Dad--no, Philza said he was a leopard moth, but Tommy thought he looked more like a cow than a leopard. Henry agreed with that thought when Tommy brought it up to him. Cows were cooler than leopards anyway.
“Hello, Clem,” Theseus whispered tenderly, “We finally got out of that shithole.” He giggled to himself in the use of foul language, knowing full well if any of his ex-fathers were around he would have gotten punished for such behavior. Then the realization hit him; Theseus can do whatever he wants now. He doesn’t have to listen to the rules once set for him, because he is free. If he wanted to, he could set a tree on fire and he wouldn’t face any consequences from his ex-fathers. Nobody, not a soul, is there to stop him. Of course, he won't set a tree on fire, at least not today, but the option is always there.
He’ll settle for cursing, for now.
“Fuck!” Theseus shouted into the void, spooking Clementine off his nose. He giggled and shouted once more, “Bitch! Pussy! Balls!” he cackled in laughter as Clementine flapped above him. “Fuck you, Philza, God of Death!” He yelled, “Fuck you, Wilbur-fucking-Soot! Fuck you and your pink hair, Technoblade!”
They’re all horrible.
Theseus heard a rustling from the trees. Fear clouded his mind as he sat up quickly. The adrenaline he once had was long gone, but fear kept him going. His heart pounded against his chest as his eyes fixated on the spot of the rustles. He slowly stalked towards the trees, snagging a large stick off the ground in the process with trembling hands. “Whoever is there, I got a stick and I know how to use it,” Theseus called out, hiding the quiver in his voice. Theseus was an idiot, he shouldn’t have yelled so loud, especially since he was only a couple of hours away from his prison. The idea that his ex-fathers had possibly heard his yell terrified him. He expected to see Da--Philza swoop down and pluck him from the ground like he used to do when Theseus was young. Good job, Theseus.
As he crept closer the rustling continued, only furthering his anxiety. The source of the rustling finally popped out causing the boy to fling himself back in fear.. As he fell back, his first reaction was to throw his stick--which in the moment he hadn’t realized that throwing his only weapon away was dumb. He quickly threw up his arms, tucking his face into the crook of his left arm in a makeshift shield. He stayed motionless, not even daring to breathe, as he waited for the first blow. Minutes passed, nothing came.
What’s happening?
Opening his eyes, Theseus removed his arms to peek over to look at whoever was there, and was confused when he didn’t see anything. Was he imagining stuff? He removed his arms completely and started to laugh at himself when he saw what frightened him. The bounds of laughter sounded through the clearing, scaring the brown rabbit that had leaped from the bush earlier. The rabbit looked up at him with confused and judgemental eyes. Theseus didn’t blame the rabbit, since he must have looked so lame at that moment. The emotions that Theseus felt were slowly leaving him. The exhaustion was finally sneaking up on him, yet the child only reached out for the brown rabbit. Amazingly enough, the rabbit bounded into his arms.
“I’m sorry I threw a stick at you, little guy,” Theseus said between giggles, “I thought you were somebody else. No hard feelings, right?” In response, the rabbit twitches its ears and hops away, disappearing into a hole in the dirt. Theseus deserved that. Poor rabbit.
Right now, with that heart-stopper out of the way, the first order of business: find shelter and food so he doesn’t die on his first night free. Even though the exhaustion was seeping deep into his bones, dying from exposure wasn’t what he wanted to do now that he was free from his ex-family. It should be easy enough, right? Theseus always read stories with the characters who foraged for berries and created fire from stone with the help of woodland friends. Surely, the same logic and luck apply to real life, right? Though Theseus might have some trouble acquiring woodland friends after his encounter with the rabbit. Stupid Theseus.
No matter what happens though, Theseus knows he’ll be fine. Nothing he can experience now will be worse than his life with his ex-fathers. Nothing could beat their abuse and possessiveness.
He’ll be okay.