Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Tubbo had asked him to babysit Michael, Tommy had been skeptical.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Michael, in fact the few times he’d seen the piglin baby, Tommy had thought him to be adorable. But he was still struggling with his feelings about Ranboo, having come back to find his best friend had replaced him with the half-enderman. And in his head, he still associated Michael with his father a bit too much for Tommy’s comfort.

But then again, Tubbo had looked exhausted when he’d asked it from Tommy. It had been in his and Ranboo’s plan to spend the night together, relaxing, without having to look after their kid and just spend some time together. Tommy had been jealous, remembering all the times that used to be them two, but he could see how much Tubbo needed the rest, so of course he relented.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t regretting it now.

Michael, though in no way related to Tubbo, was just as energetic as him. With his badly stitched bumblebee shirt - courtesy of Tubbo -, Tommy could look away for a moment and the kid had sped across the room and was doing mischief, hanging from the paintings and attempting to climb the bookshelves. Within the first hour Tommy had had to pry him off the shelves five times before they could crash down on the piglin.

He could see why Ranboo and Tubbo had seemed so exhausted. Being a parent was tiring.

Sitting on the bed in the nursery, Tommy rested his chin on the palm of his hand, following the rapid movements of Michael as he raced across the room. There was bound to be a moment the kid calmed down, right? He couldn’t go on for the whole night, could he?

A small patter of feet accompanied the face that popped up in front of Tommy’s and big eyes stared at him. A plush toy of a ghast was thrust into his face and Tommy took it sheepishly. The rough stitches were clearly done by Tubbo, but otherwise the toy was too neatly done to be done by anyone else but Ranboo. The bitch.

Tommy handed the toy back to Michael. Grasping the toy tight, Michael took a few paces back, then ran forward and leapt into Tommy’s lap.

“What the fuck?” Tommy whispered as Michael rose to his feet, balancing on Tommy’s legs, and reached up to touch Tommy’s hair.

“Gold,” Michael stated, nodding seriously. His fingers pulled harshly at Tommy’s locks so he moved his head away and pulled Michael’s hands off.

“Don’t touch me,” he warned. Michael giggled. “I’m serious, man. Don’t touch me. I don’t want to be infected by your dad’s bacteria. The taller one. The long bitch. Ranboob. You know him? Yeah, that one. Don’t touch me.”

Michael huffed and slid from Tommy’s lap, back onto the ground and rushed off with his ghast toy. Tommy blew out a breath of air. How long had he been doing this? How long was it bound to continue? The kid was getting on his nerves and this constant sitting was reminding him of the long hours he spend idle in the prison with-

A shiver ran down Tommy’s spine and he shut his eyes tightly, taking in a few deep breaths before opening them again. He wasn’t there anymore. He was out and he was never going to see Dream again.

He’d expected people to be more worried for him, once he got out. He’d been stuck in there for weeks, people had thought he died, but his return was almost immediately brushed off and here he was, babysitting the child of his best friend who had abandoned him, as if nothing had happened. Did they really care that little?

“Hey, big man,” Tommy called out as Michael inspected the carpet. Michael looked up. “Think you’re going to sleep anytime soon?” Michael blinked at him then turned back to the carpet. Tommy threw his hands up. So now Michael was ignoring him.

A thunderclap echoed through the house, shaking the roof and walls. Michael was up in a flash, running up to Tommy and latching onto his leg, burrowing himself close and clutching the pant leg of Tommy’s cargo pants.

“Stop latching onto me like a fucking leach!” Tommy complained, prying Michael off. Michael squealed pitifully, holding on tighter. Tommy sighed and lifted the piglin into his arms. Michael shook against his chest, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s neck. Tommy rose and turned around, then set Michael under the covers of his bed. The small piglet struggled, but Tommy wrapped him hastily into the blankets and shushed him.

He wasn’t the best with comforting anyone in general, and he was even worse with comforting kids. When he’d been small, it had been Wilbur who had played him songs on his guitar to calm him down. Now all memories with Wilbur were bitter and tainted and Tommy had vowed to never touch an instrument ever in his life again.

But what other ways were there to comfort a scared child? Why had Tubbo and Ranboo thought it to be a good idea to let him babysit?

“It’s just the big man in the sky throwing a tantrum,” Tommy explained to Michael. “Dream XD failed a speedrun, or some shit. It’s nothing to be afraid of.” Michael oikned quietly, big eyes filled with tears. Tommy looked away uncomfortably. “Just sleep it off. You’ll be fine.”

Settling down onto the floor next to Michael’s bed, Tommy rested his head against the wall. Another thunderclap rang through the house. A small pink hand reached from under the covers. Sighing, Tommy lifted his hand onto the bed and let Michael grasp it.

“You can hold it as long as you don’t start sucking on it,” he warned. Michael didn’t reply, but Tommy could feel his body shaking with fear. It did seem to have lessened now that he was touching Tommy. Kids. They needed constant reassurance.

Wondering if he’d ever been that clingy as a child, Tommy closed his eyes and let himself fall asleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy woke up to silence and immediately knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just the silence that unnerved him, it was the stillness of the house, as if the air had frozen into place. Grey light was shining into the room, so it must have been early morning after a storm. Peering out the window, Tommy could see the light grey clouds drifting by slowly.

His hand was still on the bed where Michael had been holding it the night before. The piglin was no longer grasping it and when Tommy felt around for the child, he felt nothing but cold sheets.

Shooting up, Tommy’s eyes flew to the bed. It was empty. The sheets were ruffled and it was clear that someone had been sleeping on it, but it was now vacant and the covers had been thrown off to the side. There was no sign of Michael.

Leaping to his feet, Tommy scoured the entire room, peeking under the bed, checking the shelves and cupboards, but there was no sign of Michael. All the windows were closed and the trapdoor was shut. But Michael had disappeared.

Throwing the window open, Tommy searched the immediate area for if he could see any sign of the piglin. There was something in the water, several meters offshore, floating. It was small and despite the dim light, Tommy could make out the bumblebee shirt and suspenders Michael had been wearing the night before.

No. Please no.

Racing down the ladder and barging through the door, Tommy could barely register what he was doing. He came to the beach and dove into the freezing water without thinking, swimming to the floating thing, praying that it wasn’t what he thought it was.

His fingers closed around the strap of the suspenders and kicking his legs under the water, Tommy kept himself afloat as he turned the body around. The ghastly pale face of Michael stared back.

“No,” he gasped. “No!”

Swimming back to the shore, he tried to keep Michael’s head above water as much as he could. The moment his legs could reach the floor, he stood up and started his efforts to revive Michael, breathing into his mouth and patting him strongly on the back, urging him to breathe. This couldn’t be happening. He refused to believe it.

Stumbling onto the sand, Tommy set Michael down and resumed his efforts, the icy grip of shock spreading across his limbs. Please don’t be happening. Please.

Michael’s head lolled sickly. The lump in Tommy’s throat grew. Then a voice called out across Snowchester and Tommy’s heart froze.

“Michael? Tommy? Where are you?”

Tommy raised his eyes slowly to where Ranboo and Tubbo were exiting the house, most likely having entered when Tommy was still swimming out to sea. They were looking around the area, with little care in the world. Tubbo’s shoulders were relaxed and he looked as though he had enjoyed the night.

Time froze when their eyes met. For a moment Tubbo didn’t seem to register what was happening. Then his eyes panned down to the limp child under Tommy’s hands. His eyes widened and his mouth opened to scream.

It was all a blur from then on. The world faded. Tommy didn’t hear Tubbo and Ranboo screaming as they ran to the beach, he didn’t register being pushed away as Tubbo clutched Michael to his chest, he didn’t see the hasty messages in their communicators calling for help from the rest of the SMP. He leaned back on his haunches in the sand, staring blankly at the panicking figures of his best friend and his husband.

This was happening. It had happened. It was all real. Oh Primes. Oh Primes, no.

“What the Hell happened?!” Tubbo’s scream rang faintly into his consciousness. “What happened?! What did you do?!”

“I-I. . .”Tommy could form no words, but it was no longer necessary. Tubbo was doing all the screaming in his place.

“What did you do to him?” Tubbo sobbed. “How could you? Tommy, how could you?”

Wait. . . did Tubbo think he had done it? Tommy met Tubbo’s eyes and recoiled at the hatred in them, burning with passion. Ranboo now held Michael in his arms, eyes glued to his son in shock and panic. Tears were streaming down Tubbo’s face.

“Tommy, I trusted you! I trusted you to keep him safe! How could you!”

The sound of running feet reached Tommy’s ears and the hill was soon crested by Foolish, Jack and Niki, alerted by the panicked messages in the chat. They blundered down the hill to the beach. Niki’s hands flew to her mouth as she took in the scene, Jack went pale and Foolish seemed to have hit a wall, coming to a complete standstill at the scene before him.

Tommy looked down at his hands, shaking from the cold, turning blue from the icy cold water. He was soaked from top to bottom, but he could feel nothing. He was numb. Completely and utterly numb.

What had he done?

Chapter Text

When the world started coming back into focus, Tommy realized he was in a holding cell. It was cold and his clothes were still somewhat wet, but they had managed to dry since the ordeal that morning.

How had he gotten there? He couldn’t remember being moved from the beach, he couldn’t remember anything happening after Niki, Jack and Foolish had arrived, but someone must have transported him here? But why the fuck was he in a jail cell?

Rising to his feet, feeling weak and confused, Tommy made his way to the bars of his prison, biting down panic as flashbacks from his stay surfaced in his mind. On the other side of the room, leaning against a wall glaring at him was Sapnap.

“Hey,” Tommy croaked. “What the Hell is happening? Why am I in here? Let me out!”

Sapnap gave a humorless laugh. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Tommy. You know exactly why you’re in there” His eyes darkened. “You’re a monster, you know that right? You’re selfish and a monster.”

The hatred in Sapnap’s eyes made it easy to believe what he was saying about Tommy being a monster. But he couldn’t possibly believe that Tommy had killed Michael, could he?

“Sapnap, I didn’t kill Michael,” he said. Sapnap scoffed. A lump rose in Tommy’s throat as he remembered the limp body he’d pulled from the sea. “They. . . they weren’t able to revive him?”

“Cut the crap, Tommy. You wanted him dead, you killed him in cold blood. You got what you wanted so don’t try to act innocent. If you had the guts to kill a kid, at least have the guts to take responsibility for it!”

“Sapnap, I didn’t kill Michael!”

“Go to Hell.” Sapnap pushed away from the wall and marched out of the room, leaving Tommy alone. He made his way back to the bed in the cell and fell onto the soft mattress. He let his head fall into his hands and wondered what had gone wrong.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tommy didn’t sleep that day or night. He was left awake, thinking about what could have happened to Michael. Subpoena - and therefore most likely the rest of the server - might be sure that he had killed Michael, but he was fully aware that he had not taken Michael’s life.

The last he had seen Michael, before fishing him out of the sea, had been alive, bundled up under his covers, scared of the thunderstorm. He’d gone to sleep, knowing that Michael was there, clutching his finger. So what had happened between the moment he closed his eyes and the moment he woke up to an empty house?

Had someone broken in and taken Michael? In his haste to try and find the piglin, Tommy had paid attention to if Michael had gotten out, he hadn’t been paying attention to if someone had come in.

The doors weren’t locked and there was only a safety latch on the trapdoor to keep Michael in. The server trusted each other enough to not need to lock their doors. Anyone could have come in.

It must have been someone. An unknown culprit had entered the house, taken Michael, brutally drowned him in the sea and framed Tommy for it. It had to have been someone who knew how to move silently, or else Tommy would have woken up. He was surprised he hadn’t, taking into account how lightly he had been sleeping lately after the prison.

So who had it been? Who was trying to frame him? Was it Jack? He’d been against Tommy for a long while now, but would he do something this drastic? No. He might have been prepared to kill Tommy, but he would never have touched Michael.

Who else would want to frame Tommy and be prepared to kill Michael in the process? Dream would, but he was stuck in the prison. How about the Egg? Would any of its followers be prepared to take such drastic measures? It could be a possibility. The Egg wanted him out of the way, that was for sure. But Michael’s death could set forward a chain of events that could lead to disaster, wars even. Did the Egg want that?

Tommy wasn’t sure.

Sapnap returned in the morning. His mood was no better than it had been the previous day. The clock on the far wall had been the only thing entertaining Tommy besides the questions running rampant in his head.

“Get out,” Sapnap snapped as he retracted the bars of the cell. “Try something and I’ll run you through.” The netherite sword glistened in his hand.

“Where are we going?” Tommy asked.

“I’m taking you to court. You’re getting much more than I think you should have and half of the SMP agrees. After what you did you deserve to be thrown into the void for all I care.”

“Sapnap, I didn’t kill Michael-”

“Don’t you dare even speak his name!” The tip of Sapnap’s sword cut into Tommy’s throat, the skin above his Adam's apple moistening with blood. They stood frozen for a moment before Sapnap retracted his sword with a flick and pulled Tommy out of the cell and chained his hands behind his back. “Move.”

Tommy followed orders as Sapnap escorted him to the courthouse. A crowd was gathered outside and Tommy’s blood ran cold as he watched as the SMP members noticed him, turning to him with despise. Many had red rimmed eyes and Tommy could see several members clutching their weapons with white knuckles.

Sapnap pushed him through the crowd, through their hateful glares as if to spite him. Tommy knew there must have been a side door he could have been brought through, hidden from everyone's eyes, but Sapnap clearly wanted to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

Coming to a stop in front of everyone, Sapnap attached Tommy’s chain to a pole in the center, then moved away. Feeling awfully exposed in front of everyone, Tommy wasn’t sure whether he should put on his facade of confidence or do something else. Whatever he did, it would seem that he was guilty. Either proud of what he had done, or regretting it. No matter what he did, no one would believe he was innocent.

Feeling like an animal, chained before a crowd, Tommy shifted on his feet, heart thundering in his chest.

There was movement in the crowd and Karl pushed through to the front. His normally colorful hoodie was now a simple black one, and his entire demeanor seemed less lighthearted. Tommy couldn’t blame him.

“We’re here to discuss the actions to take against TommyInnit,” Karl said, attempting to hold an air of professionalism, “who has been arrested for the murder of Michael, the son of Tubbo and Ranboo.” The crowd shifted angrily. “As you all know, Michael was found yesterday morning, dead at the hands of Tommy after he allegedly drowned him. We are here to decide how we will act and which punishment we will relay onto Tommy in the instance that he is found guilty.”

“He killed a fucking kid, I say we kill him as retaliation!” Jack’s voice rang out across the crowd. Anger rushed through Tommy, so hot he wasn’t able to discern who the heads nodding along to Jack's words belonged to.

“I didn’t kill him!” Tommy yelled.

“They found you by his body!” Ponk yelled from the group. “You were soaking wet and Michael had been drowned! Connect the dots!”

“I was trying to save him!” Tommy yelled, pulling against his chains. “I didn’t kill him!”

“Then who did, Tommy!” Jack yelled. “If it wasn’t you, then who was it? You were the one tasked to babysit him, you were supposed to protect him! Couldn’t even do that, could you? Fucked that up too, you did!”

Tommy froze and his shoulders hunched. Jack was right. He was right. Tommy might not have been the one to kill Michael, but Tubbo and Ranboo had trusted him to protect Michael when they left him there together. Tommy had one job and that was to take care of Michael. And he had failed.

The words of the others blurred and a pounding pain appeared in Tommy’s chest. It was his fault. If he had stayed awake that night, maybe comforted Michael a little longer, all of this never would have happened.

“We trusted you with our son, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes raised to meet Ranboo’s, who now stood at the front of the crowd. His eyes were red and there were steaming tear tracks on his face. His hunched shoulders made him seem much shorter than he usually was. Tubbo was nowhere to be seen. “Tommy, I trusted you with Michael. I have very few things left in this world that I care about and I trusted one of them with you. And you- you-”

A sob escaped Ranboo and he buried his face in his hands. Niki and Puffy made their way to him and pulled him into a hug. His cries set the crowd off.

People were screaming for revenge, shouting vile things at Tommy. A few of them threw objects at him. A sharp piece of stone cut open Tommy’s cheek and he tried to turn away from the onslaught of weaponized junk.

Karl was trying to still the crowd and was trying to get Sapnap to move Tommy out of the way of the flying objects, but Sapnap merely leaned against the wall, smiling smugly at Tommy’s distress.

“Everyone shut it!” Everyone fell quiet at Jack’s shout. Tommy felt a shiver run down his spine when he noticed the smile on Jack’s face. “I say that we don’t kill him.”

Ponk frowned. “Didn’t you just-”

“Listen to me. Killing him would just let him escape punishment, right? So I say we make him suffer. What’s one thing that Tommy hated the most?”

Pictures of the prison flashed through Tommy’s mind, Dream’s grinning face as he smashed his fist into Tommy’s face repeatedly. The void after death, Wilbur, Mexican Dream- they couldn’t put him back in there, could they? Not with Dream.

Jack threw his hands out. “We exile him!”

One part of Tommy froze in horror at Jack’s words. Exile had been one of the worst things he’d gone through. Looking back on it now, he wasn’t sure if what made it bad was the isolation from his friends or the constant manipulation from Dream, but he remembered it as being living Hell.

The other part of him was relieved that they weren’t sending him back to the prison. He couldn’t do it. Not again.

But he didn't want to be exiled either, especially for something he didn’t do. One of the people here, gathered at the moment, was the real person to have killed Michael. One of them had killed Michael in cold blood and was trying to pin it on Tommy.

The crowd roared in unison, one wave of agreement on the punishment. Karl stood at the front of the crowd, trying to calm them down. “Everyone be quiet, please! We still need to deem Tommy guilty or not-”

“We all say he’s guilty, Karl,” Sapnap spoke up. “There’s no one here that doesn't want him to suffer for what he’s done. So I agree; we exile him. If he ever sets foot on the SMP again, we’ll shoot him. And if anyone ever sees him, they’re allowed to go for the kill. They can go after him. Let him live the rest of his life in fear and shame for what he’s done.”

“I didn’t kill Michael, I swear!” Tommy yelled, giving one last effort to make them believe him. “There is someone here who is trying to frame me! Someone from the SMP! I went to sleep and Michael was still alive, he was there, I could feel and see him! When I woke up he was gone and I found him in the sea! I didn’t kill him, please believe me!” His voice broke.

But no one listened. Half of his words had been drowned by angry yelling and objections. There was no talking to this crowd. They had in their minds settled on thinking that Tommy was guilty. There was nothing he could do to change their minds.

Not an hour later, he was being escorted through the community portal by Sapnap, and soon they were stumbling across the pathways across the expanse of the Nether. When the paths ended, they traveled for many hours in silence, climbing up the red hills and bridging over the long lava lakes before finally coming to a stop.

The area they stopped at was in no way special and blended into the background perfectly. There was nothing about it that made it stand out. Sapnap pulled out some obsidian from his inventory and built a portal and lit it up.

They stepped through together. The forest beyond the portal was spruce and the trees cast large shadows onto the ground, for night had already fallen. Without any armor or proper clothes to push back the cold, Tommy shivered.

“I’m going to go through this portal and I’m going to be waiting on the other side,” Sapnap told him. “I’ll wait there and if you even try to come through again, I’ll kill you with no hesitation. I’ll give you an iron pickaxe so you can break a few of the obsidian. I’ll know if you don’t, and I’ll finish you off here and now. Once I’m sure you’ve destroyed the portal on this side, I'll completely break it in the Nether. You’re gonna be here all alone and trust me, no one will ever visit you ever again.”

The chains unlocked form around his wrists and Sapnap took a step back, holding the chains in his arms. Tommy rubbed his wrists where the chains had stayed for more than a day. Bruises had formed on his skin and in a few places the skin had been cut.

Sapnap handed him a nearly broken iron pickaxe.

“If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.” And with those words Sapnap stepped through the portal and disappeared.

Left alone in the wilderness, the comfort of home nothing but a memory again, Tommy shifted the weight of the iron pickaxe in his hand before he set to work. By the time the pickaxe broke his hands were covered in blisters and only three blocks of obsidian had been broken.

And with the shattered shards of the obsidian, his heart lay in pieces with them. Because after thinking he had finally escaped his nightmares, that he would never have to live them again, he was back at the beginning and he was more alone than ever.

Chapter Text

The shelter he constructed hastily to keep out most of the cold was pitiful. The thin branches from nearby trees did little to hold back the freezing wind and the several layers of snow on the ground sunk into his muscles with an icy stab.

Tommy could feel every breath he took rattle in his chest, each puff of air a cube of ice sliding down his throat and sending a shiver through his body.

If he wanted to make it through the night, he needed to keep moving. Staying still would result in nothing good. If he fell asleep sitting here, he might not wake up in the morning. But a part of him didn’t want to get up.

Was it really that bad? Not waking up? He was never going home, he was never going to see his friends again. Were they even his friends anymore? No matter what happened, he would never be able to return to the people he loved, to the home he knew. That was all in the past.
He knew the hopelessness that would settle in with the homesickness and loneliness, he knew the crushing feeling of being alone. Was it worth living through again? It was as if the world was giving him a chance to stop it all before it began, so was it not the right thing to do to take the chance?

No. It wasn’t right. He still had things to do.

No one in the SMP believed him innocent, but Tommy knew someone else had killed Michael. As a result of someone else’s actions, Tubbo and Ranboo were now grieving for their dead son and Tommy was stranded in the middle of nowhere, thousands of blocks away from home. He wasn’t going to give up before he brought justice for Michael and himself.

Struggling to his feet, Tommy wrapped himself in his arms. The wind threatened to topple him over as he ducked below the shielding branches of his makeshift tent, but he steadied his feet.

First, he needed fire. He had shelter, sort of, so he needed to focus on staying warm. Warmth. Home had warmth.

Tommy shook his head. Home was gone. It was time he sought comfort from something else.

With trembling arms Tommy gathered wood, hands burning in the cold, growing numb. Snow fell softly, infecting the dark night with shimmers of silver as the moon reflected off the white. The rough wood scraped against his bare arms, but Tommy ignored it as he returned to his shelter. On the way, he plucked two pieces of flint from a patch of gravel he saw poking out from underneath the layer of snow.

Settling down and shifting the walls of the shelter closer to each other, Tommy set the wood down in front of him at the doorway to the shelter. Arranging the wood with trembling hands, he began hitting the flint together, cursing about not having any iron to create a flint and steel.

For an embarrassing amount of time he struggled, wincing as the flint cut his hands but didn’t form a spark. Then, striking the flints together a small spark flew into the bundle of wood and caught the smaller dry branches, flaring up into a proper fire.

Nursing the fire, Tommy breathed in relief, holding himself close to the flames as he let the warmth seep into his veins. Rubbing his hands together and flexing his fingers, he crossed his legs and prepared for the long night ahead.

As his body began to warm up, Tommy let his mind drift to Michael. What could have happened that day?

Whatever had happened and whoever had taken Michael, it had to have happened between Tommy falling asleep and waking up. Whoever had taken Michael had moved quietly as Tommy hadn’t woken up, and they’d been able to take Michael without the child making a sound. Whoever had taken and killed Michael, they had done it to cause chaos on the SMP. Or to get him out of the way. Possibly both.

Whoever it was, they were still on the loose, and no one was punishing them for the crime they had committed. So it was up to Tommy. He would find whoever had killed Michael, and avenge the death of the child if it was the last thing he did.

What were things he could gather from what he knew? Were there any clues he could use to catch the murderer? Maybe he wouldn’t be able to find who it was right away, but he could start crossing out people it wasn’t.

It wasn’t Tubbo or Ranboo, that much he knew. They had been together the entire time, and Michael was their son. They would never have done anything to hurt him. So they were out of the question. Who in the SMP could move quick, light and silent?

Technoblade probably could. He was a hunter and light on his feet. But if Technoblade wanted conflict, he wouldn't be subtle about it. He would have killed Michael without framing Tommy or disappearing. So it wasn’t Techno. Besides, the Blade had said himself that he wanted away from conflict, that he wanted to retire and get away from all the blood bath.

But no one else seemed to be safe from suspicion. So far, with the information Tommy knew, he couldn’t advance in his investigation further.

Could the communicator help him in any way? Tommy checked his wrist where the communicator band was wrapped around his arm. Tapping the small gemstone set into the band, he opened up the chat log. The chat glitched and shook once in a while and it seemed he was too far to get any messages from the SMP, but he could still access old entries. If he could only find Michael’s death message, he might be able to find a clue. . .

He doubted it would help. Michael had drowned. That was what the communicator would say. No weapon was used to kill him and no person killed him directly. The communicator wouldn’t tell him anything.

And it didn’t.

Michael drowned.

The message stared back at him like an accusation. Cold and unforgiving.

Michael drowned.

Images of the previous day flashed in his mind, waking up, draggin Michael’s body from the water, the hatred in Tubbo’s eyes as he steamed at Tommy on the beach. The accusing shouts of the SMP as they deemed him a murderer without hesitation only hours ago.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and took several breaths. The images of the past two days gave way to new ones.

Michael’s face popped into his mind, staring up at him as he grasped for Tommy’s hair, eyes wide with wonder. He’d acted annoyed then, but now he wished he had let the kid be. How could someone so innocent be gone? Michael had been so small, so harmless! How could someone have taken the life out of someone who had done nothing wrong in his life?

Michael had been a child. Small, defenceless, adorable in his bumblebee shirt that Tubbo had made, barely staying together with the horrible stitching of the sides, harmless with his ghast toy.

There was something off.

Something stuck to the back of his mind, something that didn’t add up. Something about what had happened that didn’t make sense. But what was it?

The wind howled outside his shelter and the fire before him flickered, tearing his mind away from the memories. Hurriedly, he did his best to try and shield the fire from the gusts of wind, wincing as snow blew in from the cracks of his shelter. Branches rattled in the walls of his little teepee, threatening to fall down. If they caved in now, he would be without shelter and his fire would die.

Adding wood to the fire to keep it going for some time, Tommy hurried out of his shelter, holding onto the walls as wind howled. The gentle snowfall from before was rapidly escalating into a snowstorm. Snowflakes spun in flurries around him, blasting against his face, sticking to his clothes and hair. The air against his bare skin prickled painfully, sending shivers down his spine.

Somewhere in the distance, wolves howled. Tommy’s heart pounded. If the wolves found him out alone and without shelter, he would be ripped to shreds in seconds. He had to make a better shelter.

Trembling in the cold like a leaf in the wind, Tommy scourged the nearby area for more branches, snapping some off the spruces, but most branches were too thick for him to break. He hauled what he could to his shelter and propped them against each other. He untied his shoelace and used it to tie the branches together. His vision was blurry as the snow continued to fall. Cold etched itself into his bones, carving deep into his muscles.

Squeezing into his shelter, he brushed the snow off of the wood in the fire, blowing on the flames to make them burn brighter. He shifted the branches so that they covered the doorway and kept away the snow and wind.

Curling in on himself, Tommy braced his back against the tree trunk his shelter was leaning on. Reaching his hand out, he let the flames from the fire flicker across his fingers, barely licking them before he pulled away. The heat sent surges of warmth through his body, coursing through his veins, but it did little to chase away the chill.

The fire was smooth against his hands, the heat flickering and weaving across his palm, silky against his-

Tommy froze. He knew what had been bothering him before. But was he sure? In the moment he had been too focused on getting Michael out of the water, it was unlikely he would notice a detail like the one he was thinking about. But somehow, he was certain that what he remembered was real.

It all came down to Michael’s shirt. The stupid, adorable, bumblebee shirt. The one Tommy had made fun of when Tubbo had left Michael with him.

“What happened to the stitches?” Tommy laughed, inspecting the shirt. Threads were sown haphazardly into the cloth, somehow managing to keep it all contact and working.

“Stop,” Tubbo complained, blushing. “I tried my best.”

“It’s shit!”

“It’s not that bad,” Ranboo said, cocking his head.

“Shut up, Ranboob. It is.”

The stitches on Michael’s shirt were terrible. They stuck out to the eye and were coarse against the skin if you ran a finger across them. When Tommy had pulled Michael out of the water, as he had clutched to Michael’s still chest, he had felt nothing. Michael’s shirt had been smooth and stitched correctly. The shirt wasn’t the one Tubbo had made. Which meant it wasn’t the one Michael was wearing.

The ‘Michael’ he had pulled out of the water wasn’t Michael at all.

The real Michael was still out there, probably scared out of his mind. Whoever had orchestrated this all now had him. And Tommy was going to get him back.

Chapter Text

The nightmares started faster than he expected. He should have known they were coming, but a part of him had hoped that maybe he could escape his nightly torment with the torture he was going through already. But they came back. And they came back worse.

He stood in the middle of a large crowd of familiar faces, judging and mad. A dark void all too familiar spread around them, devoid of light, a black space of nothingness. The faces around him judged, hatred in their eyes. Any time he met the gaze of one of his friends, a piercing pain ripped through his body, cutting him in half. But he couldn’t stop looking, couldn’t rip his eyes off their judging faces.

Slowly, a hum of voices surfaced as the figures around him opened their mouths. The hum soon rose into shouting, and Tommy was back there, in the courtroom, in front of everyone, unable to move. Each word stung, each sentence carved its way into his skin and deep into his bones. He couldn't scream. He couldn't make a sound. It was too loud, it was too much.

The screaming grew louder, he wanted to cover his ears, it hurt, he wanted it to stop-

Silence fell. A shiver ran down his spine. He looked around.

He was in the void. There were no faces, no friends, no enemies. No one. Just him and the darkness. Panic rose in his chest, he needed to get out, he couldn't be here again-

He couldn’t breathe. Without warning the void had turned to water, dragging him deep into the depths of an unforgiving sea. Above him he saw the surface, a tumult of a thousand waves. Beyond the water he saw Tubbo, staring emotionless as Tommy sunk deeper. He reached out his hand, he pleaded for Tubbo to help him, but Tubbo didn’t move. He smirked. And disappeared.

Water filled Tommy’s lungs, he was choking, he was drowning, he was-

Tommy shot awake. His chest heaved and breath shook with each gulp of air he took. The soft patter of rain broke the silence along with his ragged breathing. Water dripped down the branches above him, falling slowly against his skin and sending shivers as it made contact.

Running a hand over his face, Tommy took a few steadying breaths. It was just a nightmare. Nothing but a nightmare.

Shifting aside some branches, he exited his shelter. Outside the snow from yesterday was melting as rain fell down, the change in temperature drastic. Snow still coated the top of his shelter but it was slowly melting off. His fire had gone out in the middle of the night. How could he have been so careless? If the temperature hadn’t warmed up during the night, he could have frozen to death in his shelter. And it was no longer only his life on the line. He had to find Michael. And he couldn’t do that if he was dead.

His clothes were damp from the previous night, wet in some places where the water had dripped and the fire that had burnt out hadn’t dried it. He would have to find better clothes and resources today. In a village he would be able to buy clothes fit for the climate and for the journey that was to come, but he wasn’t sure if there was one nearby.

The revelations of yesterday boomed at the back of Tommy’s head. He knew Michael was alive. But he had no idea where the piglet might be. He had no location to aim toward, he didn’t even have a direction so set off in. Michael could be anywhere in the world.If the person who had taken him hadn’t killed him.

No. Michael was alive. It wouldn’t make sense to fake his death and then actually go through with it. He was still out there somewhere. And Tommy would find a way to get to him. But first, he had to gather supplies.

The day passed as he mined and gathered things on the surface. There was a cave nearby that he ventured some ways into, but without armor he didn’t dare go far. Not only was it dangerous but he couldn’t risk having a panic attack from the slightest bit of damage from a mob hidden in the shadows. The objects thrown at him in the courtroom had been bad enough and it was a miracle he hadn’t panicked then.

At the end of the day, as the sun was setting behind the rain clouds, Tommy had managed to gather enough supplies to build a sturdier shelter for the night and enough iron for some tools, flint and steel, a shield and a water bucket. He didn’t have enough for armor, but that would come later.

As night fell again, Tommy sat cross legged in his small hut, constructed quickly from the wooden materials he had found during the day. A much larger fire than yesterday’s sat in the center of his shelter, warming him as the cold seeped in through the cracks in the hut.

Tommy started into the flames, letting his mind drift back to home. To the SMP. What was everyone doing? Had some of them taken Sapnap’s suggestion about hunting him down? Were they coming after him at this very moment, sneaking from the shadows, ready to kill him without mercy? All of a sudden every small noise from outside sent him on edge.

The SMP didn’t know that Michael was alive. Tommy had tried sending them a message, tried contacting them to explain what was happening. But his communicator refused to send the message. He was too far away and most likely the SMP had cut him off from their communication lines and servers. That would explain how he had received no new messages.

Not that any of them would talk to him anymore.

Tommy sighed and tugged on his shoelaces. His mind drifted to exile. The only person to have truly visited him there had been Ranboo. Even when he had been so far away from home, stuck on that beach, he had had some semblance of comfort, a small reminder of where he belonged. But there was no Ranboo here now. There was no Ranboo, no Dream, no Ghostbur, no one. He was all alone for the first time in his life.

And it weighed him down. Tommy was loud and annoying because he couldn't stand the silence. He couldn’t sit still because he couldn’t waste time laying around. He acted the way he did because he feared that if everyone saw who he truly was on the inside, they would leave him. He didn’t want to be alone. And now he was. And not only was he alone, he was hated. Despised, for something he hadn’t done.

Tubbo’s screams rang in his ears. He hadn’t even hesitated before accusing Tommy. There had been no pause, nothing. Maybe Tubbo had never seen him as a friend. Maybe he’d always seen Tommy as someone who would do something as terrible as kill a child.

And the rest of the SMP. They had once mourned for him, erected statues and memorials around their lands, and placed flowers at his house. The people he had once called family had turned on him the first moment they could. Had they ever cared at all?

Tommy pushed the thoughts from his mind and shook his head. It didn’t matter anymore. They had done what they had done and they had believed what they had wanted to. He wasn’t doing this to prove them wrong, he was doing this to find Michael and return him home. The kid hadn’t deserved any of this. He was an innocent suffering in the midst of all the chaos.

Starting from the morning, Tommy would begin his search. He would look for years and he would search the entire world, but he wouldn't give up. He was going to find Michael and bring justice against whoever had done this. And with those thoughts, Tommy closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

There was someone outside his hut.

Tommy had startled awake at the sound of something moving nearby. Moving slowly to not alert whatever was outside about having been woken, Tommy reached for his sword. A shadow passed across the cracks in the hut, moving silently. Tommy’s heart was in his throat, hammering against his chest, restricting his lungs. A part of him was happy whatever was outside had woken him from his nightmare, but he wasn’t sure if it was much better.

His fire was still burning, smaller, but it gave a noticeable glow that could be seen outside in the dark. It didn’t seem like the morning yet, Tommy suspected it was still late at night or early hours of the day.

Whoever was outside his hut wouldn’t be up to any good. Why else would they be sneaking around?

Tommy tightened his grip on the sword, steadied himself, then burst out of the makeshift door and into the night. He barely avoided running directly into the chest of a horse. The horse reared back and Tommy stumbled away, pointing his sword forward toward the rider of the animal. A man sat in the saddle, dressed in dark clothing. He held no weapon and instead had his hands thrown up, startled.

“I’m not here to do harm,” the man said quickly. Tommy didn’t lower his sword, but he didn’t attack either. His body tensed, not knowing if he was in danger. The man stared wide eyed, face lit up by the fire light shining through the door. He looked genuinely startled, and afraid. The horse shifted underneath him and revealed a second horse behind the two, riderless.

Tommy’s eyes flitted to the trees around him. “Where’s your friend?” he asked, nodding to the horse.

The man looked down, shoulders sagging. “It’s just me. We were traveling through the valley in the north and we were ambushed. My friend didn’t make it out.”

A part of Tommy wanted to believe the man, but trust was something he had learned to not just give out. The man continued talking.

“With the two of us we were able to take care of the horses, but now that I’m alone, I can’t anymore. I’m headed for the village nearby to try and find her a new home.” The man glanced at the ground. “You wouldn’t happen to have a need for a horse, would you?”

He did. He really did. A horse would allow him to cover more ground faster. But it seemed too perfect for a traveler to stumble by his hut with a spare horse. Still, was it an opportunity he was willing to let go?

A few tense seconds passed before Tommy lowered his sword. The man relaxed, lowering his hands. He was going to receive few good things anymore. He would have to trust the man and accept the horse.

“Sorry for that,” Tommy said, allowing his shoulder’s relax, digging the ground with the tip of his sword. “It’s not easy to trust people out here. You could have been trying to kill me for all I know.”

The man chuckled and nodded. “I understand. I apologize for coming without warning. It’s just, I saw the light from your fire and-”

“Do you want to come in for a moment?” Tommy wouldn’t fall asleep for a while after being scared, so it wouldn’t harm to have some company for a while. It hadn’t been even two days since he had seen his friends but he was already missing human contact.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” the man replied. They tied the horses to the trees and crouched into the small hut. Tommy leaned against the wall, pulling his knees up. The man settled by the fire, holding his hands over the flames. Tommy added several pieces of wood and the fire flared.

“Thank you, for this,” the man said. He reached out a hand. “I’m Uni.”

Tommy didn’t shake his hand, steering away from contact. “Tommy. I’m sorry for your friend.”

Uni looked down and retracted his arm. “We’d been traveling the world together for two years. Best time of my life. It all happened so quickly. One moment he was there, then he was gone. It’s still hard to comprehend”

Silence fell over them. Tommy stared into the fire, reveling in the feeling of having another person nearby.

If what Uni had said about a village was true, Tommy would be able to find a village nearby for some new clothes and supplies. He would have to mine for gold and emeralds to use as currency, but he would be able to get proper supplies by tomorrow evening if things went well. Especially with his new horse, if Uni was being honest about giving her away, he would make quick progress through the wild.

Tommy was so deep in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize Uni was standing up.

“I should get going,” Uni said, dusting off his pants. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here. It was nice to warm up by a fire for a moment.”

They moved from the hut to the horses. A part of Tommy didn’t want him to leave, striving to keep what little contact he had left with people. Who knew how long he would be without seeing people on his way to find Michael.

“Will you be keeping Rose?” Uni continued, gesturing to the second horse. “It’s alright if you don’t want to, I’m certain I’ll find someone in the village to take care of her-”

“I’ll take her,” Tommy said. He ran a hand across the neck of the brown horse that had arrived without a rider. In her eyes was something sad, as if she understood that her rider wasn’t coming back. “I’ll take her.”

Uni smiled and nodded. He mounted his horse, pulling his cloak tighter around himself to keep warm. “Thank you for your kindness. I wish you the best.” And with that he disappeared into the darkness, leaving Tommy to stand by his new companion.

Turning to Rose, Tommy ran his fingers through her mane. A saddle sat on her back, well strapped for long travel. “You’re stuck with me, then,” he said. Rose pushed her head against his hand, then turned to nibble on his hair. Tommy smiled. “Rest now. We’ll still be here for a day. Then we travel. We have a kid to find.”

Sending a thank you to the gods for guiding Uni here with his horses, Tommy gave Rose one more scratch before retreating back to his hut. For the first time in several weeks, his night passed by without nightmares.

Chapter Text

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted into his nose as he rode into the village on Rose. The sun was shining high in the sky still, casting the world in a warm embrace. Tommy had made his way deeper into the cave he had found his iron from and after several hours of exploring, he had come across a few gold veins and iron patches; enough to suffice for purchasing supplies.

Villagers milled around him, taking notice as he rode through their road, smiling up at him. Several tried to sell their goods, but many of them looked too expensive for his relatively empty pockets. He would only get the things he needed. Nothing extra. Hopefully he would still have some remaining gold for later on in his journey.

As he searched for a place to leave Rose while he bought things, Tommy’s mind drifted to the questions that had been plaguing him during his hours awake. How was he going to find Michael? There were no clues he could follow, nor could he return to the SMP to find any in fear that he would be cut down the minute someone saw him. There was nothing to go off of.

Doubt etched itself into his mind. Was Michael really even alive? It was possible, even probable that the Michael he had pulled out of the water was real. Was he really relying on his memory and the feel of Michael's clothing to decide whether he was alive or not? He had been panicking as he swam out to the kid, could he have imagined it all?

He didn’t know. But he shook his head and pushed the doubt aside. Even if Michael was dead, his murderer was still free. If Tommy couldn’t save Michael he would bring justice.

The village wasn’t large, but it held all the necessary shops that he needed. After leaving Rose by an inn, tied to one of the posts in the stables, he moved through the bustling streets. Soon enough, his list of items he needed was finished and the bag he had purchased at the first store was growing heavy.

Tommy hadn’t wasted time grumbling about not having his Netherite tools and armor, having not taken them with him when he was babysitting Michael. He doubted Sapnap would have let him keep them if he had.

In the midst of his new equipment, he had bought clothes for different climates, cold, warm, wet, the lot. He didn’t know what he would have to go through, how long he would have to travel, but with the little information he had about Michael’s whereabouts - so far he only knew he wasn’t in Snowchester - he might be traveling for years. He couldn’t prepare enough.

It was nearing the end of the day and the first rays of the sun were setting behind the trees of the forests and hills. The sky was painted with multiple colors, red and orange of the sun mixing with the bright blue of the daylight sky.

He was making his way back to the inn to find Rose, when the loud tumult of voices reached his ears. Curious, he made his way through the roads toward the noise. He arrived at a town square, packed with people, chattering excitedly.

Peering over the top of the heads of the villagers, Tommy spotted a man seated at the middle of the crowd. He wore shaggy clothes, worn and aged, as if he had been traveling his entire life. His skin was aged and drooping, but even from the distance he was at, Tommy could see the intelligence in his eyes. Piercing blue so striking he could see them from meters away.

“Settle down!” the man called out, voice carrying over the crowd. The villagers quieted, though full silence never fell. The man waited for the quiet, then continued speaking. Tommy guessed that he was a normal trader in the village. And from the crowd that had gathered around, he would carry good supplies.

It was unlikely Tommy would be able to buy whatever was being offered with his remaining scraps of iron, all of his gold having been used for the equipment, but his curiosity kept him staring.

“I am here once again with a tradeable. Unfortunately, only one,” the man said. The villagers didn’t seem bothered, if only, they seemed more intrigued.

The old man hoisted up a small sack. Inside it, Tommy could see something small, weighing it down. Everyone leaned forward, as if being closer would help them see through the leather of the pouch.

The man eyed his crowd with a small smile. “Inside his pouch is a compass. It is a very special compass. It shows you the direction of whoever you whisper to it the name of.”

The crowd gasped in awe but Tommy had frozen in place. He pushed aside the thoughts about his Tubbo-compass and settled on the one thought, blaring in his head. If he could get that compass, it could lead him to Michael.

It didn’t matter if he didn't have the gold or iron or diamonds needed for the trade. He would get them. Because he had to have the compass. No matter what. It was his only chance at finding Michael.

He would have expected people to be digging their pockets for money so that they could purchase the compass. But not one person was reaching for their valuables.

“As usual,” the old man said, hanging the compass pouch from his waist,” a short competition will be held for the owner of the compass. Today, your objective will be to solve riddles that I tell you. You get an answer wrong, you leave the contest. The last person standing gets the compass. Those who wish to join, form a line before me.”

The crowd shuffled. Many dispersed, grumbling under their breath, but stayed on the sidelines to enjoy the contest. Tommy pushed to the front of the crowd, holding back the shivers that ran through his body at the physical contact.

Ten villagers stood in front of the old man. Tommy settled at the end keeping his space. His heart pounded against his chest, hammering in his ears. He was thankful to have only 10 people against him, out of the numerous others that now surrounded them, but there would be a reason these 10 villagers sat next to him. They all thought they could win.

But they couldn’t. He wouldn't allow it.

Peeking sideways at the line, Tommy spotted a man built purely of muscle standing at the edge, sneering at the people around them. Tommy immediately disliked him. He had an aura of someone who thought himself better than others. His arms were covered in tattoos and on his bare chest Tommy could see a tattoo that read: Titan. Was that his name?

Next to him stood a woman with her hair in a ponytail, leather outfit and a bright shirt. A smile adorned her face.

There was a time when Tommy might have made a joke about women, but there was no one to joke about it to now. His heart ached at his loneliness.

“Our ten contestants,” the old man said, throwing his arms out to the line. Tommy shivered. It was almost like he was in an arena, ready to fight a gladiator while people stared at his struggle. The man dug through his layers of clothing and from the folds he pulled out paper that he handed out to all of them along with charcoal pencils. “I will recite a riddle for you all. A wrong answer will disqualify you. Each of you will write your answer on a piece of paper. Cheating will lose you your place in the competition immediately.”

The contestants nodded their heads. Tommy suppressed the urge to bounce his knee, twisting his fingers.

The man clapped his hands together. “First riddle.” His voice turned ominous. Tommy hung onto every word, letting his mind run free with ideas.” From ground it births, through land it spreads, and like flies it attracts man. It grows rapidly but can fall faster. What is it?”

It only took several seconds for Tommy to figure it out. As he scribbled the world down, he felt a pang in his heart as memories surfaced. Several minutes later each contestant had written something down. The crowd murmured around them, each trying to figure out the answer for themselves.

The man asked them to turn over their papers. At the same time as the others, Tommy spun his answer around. Nation. Images of L’Manberg sought their way into Tommy’s mind, the bright lights, the laughter, the explosions and blood, but he pushed them down. The answer was correct. He was onto the next round.

Two contestants had fallen during the first question. They moved, heads down into the crowd, where friends patted them on the back joyfully. There would be no one to pat his back if he lost.

“I will recite the second riddle. A chain as hard as rock and stone, engraved far deep into the bone, yet simple words can sever and bruise, this magical chain that unites few two.”

Tommy’s hand was moving over the paper before the man had even finished. The contestant next to him glanced at him, frowning. Tommy started at the world before him. Trust. Something he had thought he had, something he had given out and something he had nothing left of.

No one fell that round. The crowd cheered.

Tommy swallowed hard, steeling his mind on the thought of the compass. He had to get it in order to find Michael. There was no option for failure. He had to have it.

But what if he didn't win the contest? What if he lost? Would he steal it? Could he bring himself to do it?

He had stolen before, yes, but it had never been anything serious, mere griefing, and it was with people he knew and who knew him. Where he was, most of the time, safe. But he was all alone, with people he didn’t know and a world that was unfamiliar. Stealing here would have worse consequences.

He hoped it wouldn’t come down to it.

The riddles passed by quickly. Several times Tommy had to stop and think but the answer always came to him in the end. Slowly, the line of contestants thinned out until there were only two left. Tommy and the large man, Titan, he had seen at the end of the row.

They moved closer together. Tommy held back the shiver that ran down his body at the sheer size of the man. He was taller than Technoblade, though even with this smaller stature, Technoblade still held more power than Titan seemed to have. Whereas Titan was openly aggressive, cracking his knuckles, the piece of paper tiny in his hand, Technoblade’s danger came from his cool, calculated movements and monotone words, claiming respect without saying much. But that didn’t make Titan any less threatening.

“Our last two contestants stand for the prize of the compass,” the old man said. The crowd thundered louder than before, waiting for the finale of their contests. Tommy didn’t like the attention he was getting. “Let us begin. A knife that cuts deep into flesh, drains the blood and leaves for dead. A stab that leaves a mark behind, an act that has far crossed the line. A bridge that once let travelers cross, now broken down and left to rot. A word so vile it drains the seas, that brings down cities and cuts down trees. A wound that shall not ever heal, a burn that forces man to yield.”

Silence sat upon the crowd, no one dared speak. Titan tapped his foot beside Tommy, exasperated. He grasped his paper so hard that Tommy thought it might rip.

Tommy knew the answer. But writing it down would be painful, bringing back so many memories, that he felt tempted to walk out then and there. But he had to do it. He had to get the compass. For Michael.

With a shaky hand, he moved his pen across the paper. When the old man told them to show their answers, Titan growled angrily, unable to have written anything down. On Tommy’s paper read a single word that resonated far within him, a sinking anchor that wanted to pull him into the depths of dark memories.

Betrayal.

Silence passed as the old man examined their papers, a small smile appearing at his lips. He glanced at the crowd from the corner of his eye before staring straight at Tommy. “We have our winner. Congratulations, young man.”

The crowd roared, clapping. But it all disappeared to the back of his mind as the burly man beside him turned around, fuming.

“The boy must have cheated!” Titan yelled. Tommy flinched, stepping away. He steeled himself and glared.

“Off who?” he asked, forcing himself to speak. There was no one else who would fight for him out here. He had to do it himself. “You’re the only one I could have seen an answer from. And your paper is blank.”

Titan’s lip curled. He brought his shoulders back, muscles bulging. “This contest was unfair! The boy clearly is trained with riddles!”

Tommy rolled his eyes. The crowd was watching intently. The old man cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that you request is done?” the old man asked.

“I fought with his strengths,” Titan said, then sneered, leaning down to Tommy. “Now we fight with mine. I request a fight. No weapons. Only fists. Whoever wins, gets the compass. It’s only fair.”

There was nothing fair about it. Tommy couldn’t help it that he found it easy solving riddles, he’d had lots of practise in exile, creating word games to pass time on his lonely beach. Not to mention the countless hours listening to Wilbur making poems and songs, using words in the most descriptive and creative ways. It was bound to happen. And the man had been doing just fine until the last question.

Titan was twice the size of Tommy, over a head taller and several times wider. Tommy suspected his arms were as thick as the man’s bones. He glanced at the old man, praying he might refuse. But the trader only smiled and let go of the pouch with the compass. It swung back on his waist.

“So be it,” the old man announced. The crowd shifted slightly at the prospect of having a teenager fight twice his size but most of them were happy to have some entertainment.

Tommy was sick to his stomach. Sweat beaded his brow. This had gone bad. He wouldn’t be able to beat Titan with brute strength and he would be snapped in half within the first minute of the battle if he couldn't use his weapons. He was much more skilled armed than he was with his fists.

Was the compass worth being knocked out, if not worse? Titan could shatter his bones and they would take time to heal. He didn’t have time if he wanted to find Michael. And that compass was pivotal to finding him.

He had to fight. Titan wouldn't let him leave. And he wasn’t going to, not without the compass.

“Fine,” he snapped. Shrugging off his pack, he handed it to someone in the crowd who stepped forward to take it. It was a man in his mid-thirties, who gave him a tight lipped smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. Tommy tensed against the touch but nodded a thank you at the man. At least someone was on his side.

The crowd formed a wide circle around them, fanning out so everyone could see, but creating an effective circle to fight in.

Setting himself in a fighting position, Tommy swallowed thickly. Titan cracked his knuckles, lips lifting in a sneer. “No one beats me, boy,” he growled underneath his breath. Tommy doubted anyone else could hear him over the noise of the crowd. “Especially not a stick like you.”

That was insulting. He wasn’t that thin. He hadn’t eaten properly in a few days, but it was still an exaggeration. He almost glanced down at his body to check, but didn’t want to take his eyes off his target in fear he would attack when Tommy wasn’t watching. It wasn’t a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

Thinking back to the lessons Technoblade had given him on fighting when he’d sought refuge after exile, Tommy breathed slow. There hadn’t been many, but Techno had been a good teacher. Efficient. Precise. And he had taught many of them during their days in Pogtopia. Contrary to what Titan might think, Tommy knew how to fight. But probably nowhere near as good as his opponent.

He would have to bet his victory on agility and quick thinking. He would have to end the fight fast. If the battle continued, he would grow tired. And that would cause him to lose.

Titan threw the first punch. It came much faster than Tommy expected and he barely avoided it with a step to the side. Titan swiveled around on his feet and brought his leg forward in a blur. The sole of his foot hit Tommy in the stomach, sending him off his feet and crashing to the ground at the feet of the crowd.

Gasps and exclamations washed over the people at the kick. Tommy caught his breath, stumbling to his feet. His eyes blurred as tears sprang into his eyes; he was back there again, he was back in the prison, Dream was punching him, kicking him, beating him to death-

No. He wasn’t back there. He was in a village, stuck in a fight that would end bad if he didn’t focus. Tommy blinked the tears away and returned his attention to Titan. The kick had landed on his stomach, winding him, knocking the air out of his lungs. If it had been any higher, it would have hit his ribs and he was sure they would have broken. He was lucky. And he was running out of time and energy to end the fight.

The Titan ran at him, bringing back his fist.

Cold ran through him and for a moment he was in the prison again. And then he was back.

Ducking below the punch, he brought his palm up, crashing it into Titan’s chin. As the brute stumbled back, Tommy kicked Titan’s heel with his own while bringing his arm forward, breaking Titan’s balance. He saw the man’s eyes bulge comically before he crashed into the ground, knocking his head on the tiled ground of the town square with a loud crack. He lay still, unconscious.

The crowd roared with applause, shocked by the sudden turn of events, having been sure that Tommy would be the one to lose. He couldn’t blame them but it didn't make him feel any better about their lack of trust. Besides, he didn’t like the noise. It was all overwhelming.

The old man with the compass walked over to him with a smile. His eyes sparkled with something he couldn’t quite place. In his hand he held a compass, almost identical to the one Tommy had owned for Tubbo. His heart ached as he took the compass in his hand.

“You’ve most certainly earned it,” the old man said. “I believe this goes to prove that appearances can be deceiving.”

Tommy wanted to cry. He nearly did. Instead, he bowed his head to the man as a thank you, then made his way quickly toward where he’d left Rose, taking his things from the man in the crowd. The man grinned at him and clapped him on the back again. Tommy grit his teeth, hurrying forward.

Rose acknowledged him with a snort and a shake of her mane. Whispering a small greeting, he hopped onto her back and made a swift escape from the village into the spruce forest he’d stayed the last few nights in. He wanted to be as far away from the village and its noises and abundance of smells. It reminded him too much of home, the comfort, the people.

Could he even call the SMP home anymore? He really should stop. He wasn’t going back.

He tied Rose to a tree and retreated into his hut. The remains of a fire sat where he had left them early that morning. The sun had fallen and the stars were slowly blinking into view through the last lights of sunlight.

He looked down at the compass and ran a finger across it. He had done it. He had gotten the compass. Now he could find Michael.

Hand shaking, heart pounding, hoping that the compass worked, Tommy brought it close to his mouth. Voice trembling, he whispered:”Michael.”

The arrow spun and pointed North.

Chapter Text

Snow blurred the world ahead of them as Tommy rode Rose in a gallop through the blizzard. Frozen flakes struck him, numbing his cheeks and cutting into the frozen skin. He was thankful for the snow goggles he’d been able to purchase in the town he’d come across a week before.

He glanced at the compass hanging from his neck, bringing it close to his face to see the arrow. The arrow was still pointing determinedly toward the North, straight ahead. Nothing had changed in the month of traveling.

Tommy tucked the compass back into his shirt and returned his gaze up ahead. In a panic, he grasped Rose’s reins and pulled them back. They came to a skidding halt on the edge of a crevice, showering snow into the gap.

“That was a little too close for my liking,” Tommy said through chapped lips. Rose retreated from the edge, throwing her head back.

Sliding off Rose, Tommy left her, knowing she wouldn’t wander off, and approached the edge. With careful steps, listening out for a crack that might warn of the world giving way beneath him, he crawled to the edge and peeked down.

He couldn’t see the bottom of the pit, just blurred darkness. Looking to the sides, he couldn't tell how far the ice ravine continued, for the sides disappeared into the blizzard several meters away.

He returned to Rose. “We’re going to have to stay here until the blizzard passes,” he said, as if she could understand. “It’s not worth the risk trying to find a place to cross in this storm.”

Tommy set to work immediately. Retreating a good ways from the ravine, he began piling snow into small walls, creating the shape of a crescent moon. Once the walls reached the point they could no longer grow, he dug out the space they shielded. He then pulled a quilt from his bag and draped it over the walls to form a roof. Immediately the cold let off.

Rose settled outside the shelter, staying low. He draped some blankets over her to keep her warm. With a pat on the side and gentle kiss on her muzzle, he crawled into his shelter.

He didn’t want to waste his wood stores in making a fire. There were days he was going to need them when there wasn’t enough snow to form shelter to keep him warm. Instead, he curled up at the bottom of his shelter, bundled into his clothes and closed his eyes. He drifted off into a deep sleep.

The air was still when he woke up. The quilt was hanging low near his face, snow packed above, pressing down. Tommy stretched and moved the quilt aside, stepping into the bright day outside. Rose was already awake, kicking the snow excitedly. Tommy jumped out of the way before he was covered in snow.
“Alright, alright!” he laughed and ran a hand across Rose’s side. She neighed happily. “You like the snow?”

Rose bounded off some distance away, kicking her back legs up, spinning around. Tommy couldn't help grinning. Giving into the urge, he too began jumping around, rolling in the snow and throwing it into the sky. The sky was clear of any clouds, a bright blue that spread as far as he could see. Snow covered the ground in a large plateau so far he couldn’t see where it ended.

Laughing, he tripped on himself and tumbled to the ground. Rose ran to him in a flurry of snow, covering him from head to toe. He sat up, spluttering. She came and nuzzled him. It was nice. The affection. Sad, in a way, that the only sense of love he got was from a horse. But still nice.

Tommy glanced around and his eyes landed on a mound of snow some distance away. He squinted. Was that what he thought it was?

Stumbling to his feet, Tommy rushed to his shelter and packed his things. Rose followed behind obediently.

“Come on, girl,” he said, jumping onto her back and directing her toward the mound of snow. He kept an eye on the ravine they had seen yesterday. It spread across the area on their right, continuing a long way before coming to an end. There was a way over, that was good.

AS they moved closer, the mound turned into what Tommy had thought it to be. An igloo. Tommy had heard that some igloos held secret trap doors under their carpets. Some chambers the trapdoors led to held treasure.

“Stay here,” Tommy told Rose and slid off her back. He entered the igloo. A soft bed sat on one side, a fireplace in the center and a crafting table in the corner. The crafting table had several cuts and slivers where someone had crafted on it. Someone lived here. Or had lived.

Peeking underneath the carpet, he let out a huff as it revealed a trapdoor. Lifting it and glancing around, he started making his way down the ladder, making sure he had his weapons ready in case something bad was waiting.

There was noise at the bottom. Carefully he jumped down. His heart fell.

There was a small room. At the end of it were two cells with their doors broken open. Two zombie villagers lay dead on the floor. Closer to the ladders was a body or rotting flesh that seemed to have been trying to crawl to the ladder. On what remained of the person’s calf, Tommy saw teeth marks.

The person was most likely the owner of the igloo. He’d been attacked by his own creations.

Lifting his coat to his nose to fend off the smell that sat in the space, Tommy evaded the body and moved to the chest that sat at the side of the room. Cracking it open, he spotted several pieces of rotting flesh, some testing equipment and a single gold necklace.

Frowning, he brought the gold necklace out. It was a delicate golden chain without a piece hanging from it. A smile played on his lips. Judging by how fascinated Michael had been with Tommy’s hair, calling it gold, he would love the necklace as a gift. The thought of finding the kid and being able to give the gift to him sent Tommy’s heart through the roof. He hung the gold necklace from his neck and left everything else in the chest. He didn’t need any of it.

With one last look at the three bodies in the room, he climbed up the ladder. He took one look at the bed, wishing he’d spotted the igloo last night so he might have slept in a warm bed, but there was nothing he could do about it now.
He could have taken the sheets and blanket off the bed but decided to leave it. Maybe a traveler would stumble upon the small shelter and it would help them. He didn’t want to take their warmth away. And maybe he’d be making his way back here with Michael.

He exited the igloo. Rose was trying to eat the outside wall. He checked the bags, glanced down at the compass and they were off.

Chapter Text

Tommy sat on a rock by a small river and brought his knife up to his hair. After two months of growing, even in its ponytail, his hair was long and it was time to trim it to an acceptable length. The end result wasn’t neat and he stared at the small pile of hair as he fell to the ground before sweeping it under a bush. Maybe a bird would find it for their nest. It did them more good than it did for him.

The forest he sat in was full of life, tweeting birds, moving pushes and whispering trees that bent in the gentle winds. Rose drank from the stream beside him, gulping hungrily at the first source of fresh water they’d found in a while.

Michael’s compass sat on Tommy’s knee, taunting him with it’s golden arrow. There had been no change in its path since Tommy had won it from the trader. A part of him worried for the distance between him and Michael must be and if the kid was moving further and further every moment. The other part of him was afraid that the compass was leading him to a dead body. The trader hadn’t specified the person had to be alive to be led to.

Tommy shook his head and dunked his head in the water, relishing the cold on his skin. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He brought his head out, his hair dripping wet. It was refreshing and helped wash the thoughts away.

He grabbed bandages from his bag and re-wrapped his hands. He’d burned them earlier that week when he’d tried to make his way through the Nether to make progress faster. It hadn’t taken long before he’d encountered a group of blazes milling the biomes. He’d barely had time to make and jump into the portal, before he could end up incinerated, but his hands were burned from tumbling to the ground several times.

The Nether had done little to improve his situation, only wounding him and giving him a grim reminder about Michael every time he’d seen a piglin or pigman wandering the fiery world.

A branch snapped in the forest. Tommy’s head snapped up and his hand flew to his sword. It wasn’t until then he noticed how the world had gone silent. Birds had stopped singing and it was as if the world was standing still, the wind stopped and quiet.

“Stay here, girl,” Tommy whispered to Rose, wrapping her reins around a branch loosely. She snorted worriedly. He crept into the darkness of the forest, keeping low, ready to pull out his sword at a moment's notice if something went wrong.

There was movement up ahead. Something was moving away through the forest, quickly. But it wasn’t erratic or panicked as if something was running away. No. It was steady, unnerving. Tommy followed.

Whatever was running was fast. Tommy increased his pace, leaping over tree stumps and bushes. His heart rate increased, pounding against his chest. His hands scraped against rough bark as he passed trees, pushing off their trunks to go faster. Up ahead he could see something moving through the underbrush, pushing aside plants and shooting through them. But he couldn't see what.

He was getting closer, he was catching up, he was almost there-

The thing vanished. As abruptly as it had appeared, the sounds were gone and nothing moved. Tommy froze, ducking behind a tree. His hair stood on end, waiting for an attack. Had he been led into a trap of some kind? An ambush? Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He didn’t know who or what lived in these forests! He should have paid more attention.

He pulled out his sword, ready to fight his way back to Rose and out of the forest if he had to. But nothing moved. No one attacked him. Slowly, the sounds of the forest returned. Birds resumed their singing, some distance away Tommy spotted a deer in the distance. The danger was gone.

Tommy allowed himself to relax. Leaning against the tree, he caught his breath. What had he been chasing? It wasn’t a normal animal in the woods, no. It was abnormal enough to call for the forest to quiet. But what was it?

The compass swung from his neck, light glancing off the glass. Tommy glanced down at it and froze. Slowly, he lifted the compass up to where he could look at it better. He wasn’t seeing things. Surely he wasn’t. The arrow of the compass was moving. Slightly, barely more than a tremble, but it was moving.

After months of searching and doubt, Michael was close.

His legs were moving before his mind could catch up and he was racing back to Rose, calling her name. Michael was close! He had done it! Against all odds, exiled from everyone he knew, out in the unknown, he had found Michael!

He didn’t care he hadn’t actually found Michael yet, it didn’t matter. He was close. He was close and Tommy was going to find him.

When he reached Rose, he quickly untied her reins from the branch and jumped on her back. She seemed to sense his excitement and set off racing forward. Heart exploding, laughter escaping his lips, he directed her toward the way the compass was pointing. It stayed still for the first minute or two of them making their way through the forest again, but soon enough Tommy spotted the small tremble as the compass made its movements.

Tommy whooped, throwing his arms into the air. Rose’s ears perked up at her rider’s joy. He ran a hand across her neck, chest bubbling with laughter.

Light peeked ahead through the trees where the forest ended. The movement of the compass was growing more erratic. They were close, they would be there soon.

Bursting through the trees, Tommy pulled them to a halt. His mouth fell open. The forest ended at the foot of a mountain. He could barely see the peak, scraping the edge of clouds that were gathering across the horizon. The blue sky and sun they had seen glimpses of in the forest were rapidly disappearing into the gloom. Cold wind washed over them and Tommy shivered.

Glancing down at the compass, Tommy followed the direction of the arrow with his eyes. It pointed directly at the mountain.

Michael was somewhere on that mountain. Tommy had to get to him.

Looking around Tommy noticed the earth around them. Wasteland spread out left and right, starting from the edge of the forest, a sharp contrast to the life that the trees presented. There was no life on the plateau around them. Dry shrubs, holes filled with mud and bones - it was all dead. Worry etched itself into Tommy’s mind. How was Michael surviving here? How had he survived all these months?

A screech shook him out of his thoughts. Ice ran through his veins.

“What the fuck?” Tommy gasped, eyes shooting upward. It wasn’t possible. It was barely mid day, they should be out yet! But they were.

A pack of phantoms dove from the shadows of the clouds, aiming directly for Tommy and Rose. Their bodies were a flurry of black, the unholy shrieks cutting through the air like knives. The sky darkened, clouds pressing in, shrouding the world in night.

Tommy pulled his sword out and swung it up, barely avoiding being sliced in half by the talons of a phantom. Rose danced from the claws of their attackers, neighing fearfully, the whites of her eyes showing. She kicked back and the phantom that had tried to approach from behind swerved away, screeching, black smoke trailing behind like blood.

A blur of black crashed into Tommy and he was thrown off the saddle, thudding to the ground painfully. He lost his grip on his sword.

A phantom opened its mouth and dove for him. He barely caught it inches from his face, pushing it away and locking his arms. The phantom squirmed in his grip, raking its talons down his arms. Tommy screamed as blood soaked his sleeves. He kicked up, sending the phantom away, then reached for his sword and brought it in a wide arc slicing the phantom in half.

But it wasn’t over.

He was on his feet, pulling his axe out from his belt and holding it in his left hand. Phantoms swerved in from left and right, their shrieks ripping through his ears. Rose kicked on her hind legs, neighing and fighting off a swarm of five phantoms. Her hide was covered in deep cuts and blood soaked her fur.

Tommy had to get to her. Fear grasped at his heart and he pushed through the wall of phantoms, slicing and hitting, but he was constantly pushed back.

“Rose!” he yelled. Something warm trickled over his eyes. His mouth tasted of blood. Nails bit into his back, throwing him to the ground, pinning him now. Hastily, he let go of his weapons and covered his neck as a phantom latched on. Pain exploded over his hands as the phantom bit into his flesh. He rolled over and punched the phantom, then grabbed his axe and buried it in the phantom’s chest. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Tommy pushed to his feet, swinging his sword in an arc, then turned to Rose. Phantoms swarmed her, clawing and ripping. Tommy pushed though the wings of the phantoms, swinging his sword. Rose let out a gut wrenching whinny that cut into Tommy’s heart.

A phantom screeched. Blood splattered onto Tommy’s face and front. Rose fell to the ground, throat ripped out, lifeless.

“No!” Tommy screamed. “NO!”

There was no time to process what had happened. The phantoms that had been on Rose now directed their attention to him. Tommy swung his sword around, fending off the monsters. But their attacks seemed to be ceasing. One by one they retreated back into the sky, leaving Tommy standing defeated, tears pricking in his eyes, screaming after them.

As quickly as they had appeared, they were gone.

Tommy staggered over to Rose and fell to his knees next to her. Blood coated her body. He averted his eyes from the gaping wound on her throat. The horror of what had happened replayed in his head. How had it all gone wrong so fast? Was it his fault? Had he been so focused on getting to Michael he had lost all sense of danger? Could he have directed them into the woods, to safety? Away from the claws of the phantoms?

Maybe. But he hadn’t. And Rose had paid the price.

The pain was setting into his own wounds. His arms were on fire and there was a stinging on his head where a phantom had sliced his forehead open. Reaching into his bag, eyes brimmed with tears, he pulled out a healing potion. He had no will to thank the witch that had dropped it.

Lifting the bottle to his lips he chugged it down, ignoring the slight burning feeling on his tongue. Immediately his wounds began closing, skin and muscle stitching back together.

A part of him wanted to pour the potion onto Rose, but he knew it would do nothing. After months of traveling together, fending off dangers and hopelessness, his friend was gone. She had stayed by his side ever since he’d taken her by his first shelter. She had carried him over biomes, warm and cold, wet and dry. She had stayed by his side during storms, been a friend when he missed home.

And she was gone.

It shouldn’t have been possible. It was a few hours after mid day. The phantoms shouldn’t have been out. They shouldn’t wake up until the moon was rising. They should have burned up the moment they entered the day sky, even though the clouds were covering the sun. They should have burned! So why hadn’t they?

There were so many questions he wanted answered and none of them were at the front of his thoughts now. He wanted to stay by Rose, wanted to lay there for days and mourn. But he couldn’t. He had to find Michael. If not for the piglin, if not for himself, then for Rose, who had given her life to get him this far.

“Thank you, girl,” he whispered, running a hand across Rose’s side. Her eyes stared blankly. “And I’m sorry.”

Sniffing and wiping away the tears in his eyes, Tommy released the packs from Rose’s back and threw them over his shoulder. Holding back tears, knees trembling, he set off up the mountain.

Step after step took him further from the bottom. Further from his friend. But closer to Michael. His eyes glanced down at the compass once in a while, correcting his path any time he had to stray from his direction to get up a sheer face of rock or large boulder. He crossed hills of gravel, flats of sharp obsidian, up treacherous paths with rocks that slid from under his feet. And the compass continued pointing.

Until Tommy stopped to check it again. And it was pointing back.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Tommy checked again. The compass was pointing backwards. He retreated several meters down the hill. The compass swiveled around.

He inspected the mountainside. It took him several minutes but he spotted the crack in the rock wall, leading off into darkness. A cave. He gave one glance at the outside world and squeezed through.

The air was surprisingly fresh inside the cave. His movements echoed ominously as he shifted across the ground. Reaching into his bag,he brought out his torch and lit it. Light flashed onto the walls around him, bouncing off and dancing with the shadows that it created.

The cave was round, barely ten meters across. The ceiling was low, close enough that if Tommy was to stand on his toes and reach up, his fingers would brush it. There was nothing in the cave that drew his attention, just a couple of small boulders near the walls and a few dead branches brought from the outside.

Something shifted in the back corner. Tommy lay his hand on his sword and crept forward, keeping his torch in front of him. Careful steps took him closer to the pile of boulders near the back, cautious and silent. A shadow of something small shrunk back as his torch moved closer.

A noise made him freeze and his heart stop. A soft whimper.

Tommy rounded the boulder, peering down. His knees were weak. His body shook with anticipation. The light from his torch washed over the small figure wedged against the side of the boulder. Emotions burst through him like a tidal wave and he dropped to his knees, letting the torch fall from his hand and scooped Michael up into his arms.

Michael squeaked in terror, seizing up in his arms but he held the child close, running his hands across the small tufts of hair on his head, clutching him close to his chest. Michael was there, he had found him, he was safe, Michael was safe, he was okay, oh Primes, oh Primes-

Michael struggled in his arms until Tommy pulled back and looked him in the eye, picking up his torch and setting it against the boulder so that Michael could see. Immediately the piglin stopped struggling, eyes landing on Tommy’s face, widening with recognition. His gaze moved up to Tommy’s hair and his head tilted. “Gold?” he whispered.

A dam broke inside Tommy at the word and he broke down sobbing, pulling Michael to his chest. He heaved in every breath like it was his last and didn’t hold back as his body shook with his cries. Michael clutched his shirt, seemingly equally as happy to see him as he was happy to see Michael.

He felt the clothes Michael was wearing, the horrible stitching on the shirt and cried louder. The shirt and suspenders were covered in grime and dust, but he didn’t care. Because in the clothes was Michael, alive and well. He was there. He was okay. Tommy had found him.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. Michael’s ear twitched against his cheek. “You’re okay. I’m here. And I’m not going to let anything hurt you.”

Laughter echoed through the cavern, sinister and low, sending shivers down Tommy’s back. He was on his feet in moments, pulling his sword from his belt, holding Michael to his chest with the other. The torch sat on the boulder, shedding light on the whole cave.

Out of the shadows walked a figure, formed of darkness twirling and folding in on itself. His eyes were holes, sunk deep into his face, black voids that reeked evil. A sneer mounted his face. The figure’s form shifted every now and then and Tommy couldn’t quite form a clear picture of what he looked like. But he didn’t need one. This thing wasn’t good. Which meant he had to keep it as far away as possible from Michael.

He extended his sword in front of them. “Stay back!” he commanded, forcing his voice to not tremble. Michael whimpered and buried his face into Tommy’s neck. Something told Tommy this wasn’t the first time Michael had seen the thing.

The figure laughed, a dreadful sound that sent shivers running down Tommy’s spine. “Your sword will not hold me back, TommyInnit.” Tommy flinched at the name. No one had called him that in a long time. “Nor will your words repel me.”

“Who are you?” Tommy growled.

The figure smiled. “You know me, Tommy. You and I have met many times before. Hundreds of times. Every time you close your eyes, every time you wish for a dreamless night without the horrors of your past, every time you close your eyes, I am there. I am what you fear the most, I am the void and the darkness.” Cold wooshed around Tommy and his torch snuffed out, casting the cave in darkness. There was a sinister tone in the figure’s voice. “I. Am. Nightmare.”

Chapter Text

The name sent shivers down Tommy’s back. Nightmare. It clutched his heart in a steel grip, crushing it until he couldn’t breathe. He held Michael closer to his body.

Nightmare blocked the entrance of the cave with his body. In the darkness, Tommy could sense his presence, the evil emitting from his figure. If he squinted his eyes, he could see the outline of a darker void against the pitch black of the cave. Nightmare was darker than darkness itself.

“Stay back!” Tommy yelled, swinging his sword in an arc. “Take one fucking step closer and I’ll kill you!”

“You cannot kill me,” Nightmare chuckled, his voice echoing around them. “It takes a god to kill a god.”

A god? He gripped his sword tighter.

Tommy grit his teeth. “Try me.”

“The puppet cannot kill the puppetmaster. You’re nothing but a pawn in my game.” Nightmare’s voice came from behind him. Tommy swirled around, swinging his sword but it only cut through air. A memory surfaced in his mind, of standing in Dream’s vault, him calling Tubbo a pawn as he threatened to kill him.

“What do you want?” Tommy yelled, demanding answers. Michael whimpered, ears bending back at all the loud volume. Tommy’s heart twisted and he lowered his voice. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want fun!” Nightmare said, a sneer evident in his voice. “Fun just like you.” The torch suddenly flickered back to life and Tommy stumbled back as Nightmare stood suddenly inches from his face. “And you and I have had lots of fun, haven’t we?”

“I don’t know you.”

“Oh, but you do!” Nightmare seemed to be enjoying himself. His eyes landed on Michael, inspecting him as he spoke. “You know me better than you know most of your friends. We’ve spent months together, playing, laughing, fighting- all of it! Tommy, I know you better than you do.”

A part of him wanted to bite back and say that he didn’t have friends. But he didn’t want to seem more alone than he already was. He opted to stay silent. “You’re lying,” he said.

“Am I?”

Nightmare walked away, his darkness trailing him like a cape. His body flickered once more and his shape turned more humanoid. His skin was grey and eyes as black as they had been before, but he now looked like a man. Towering over Tommy, he was an imposing figure. Tommy forced himself to look Nightmare in the eyes. In his right eye, so small he would have missed it unless he was staring into them, Tommy spotted a small XD shining where the pupil should have been. He truly was a god.

Nightmare’s hair was a smoky mess, sometimes it was a hood, sometimes it was an unruly haircut, sometimes Tommy could even see horns sticking out from the mess, but none of the images stayed for long.

Every inch of Tommy wanted to run away. There was something familiar about the way Nightmare held himself, the way his words always seemed to have an underlying threat in them. It unnerved him.

“You took Michael,” he said. Nightmare tilted his head. “How? How did you get him out of the house? There were no signs of breaking in.”

Nightmare chuckled. “The reason you didn’t find any marks about someone breaking in,” he said,” is because no one did.”

“What?”

“It was you, who stole Michael.” Tommy’s world shuddered to a stop. What? That wasn’t possible. How could he have been the one to take Michael? It was a lie, surely. “You’re lying.” His voice shook.

“But am I?” Nightmare watched him with sick interest. “I waited until you fell asleep. I didn’t visit you that night and neither did my nightmares. No. Once you fell asleep I took over your body. A possession of a kind. The reason Michael didn’t make a sound when he woke was because it was you. Because he trusted you. You delivered him outside, left him there. Then you returned to where you were and I left you alone and took Michael.”

Tommy didn't want to believe it. But it made sense. It was all his fault all along. “How didn’t I know?” he asked, shifting Michael in his arms. “Surely I would have realized waking up?”

“You never woke up. I took over you when you were asleep. Your mind never became conscious. You didn’t know the difference between being possessed and being asleep.”

Tommy’s world was falling down. “But why? Why would you do this? Why go through the trouble of taking Michael, killing another piglin in his place and bringing him here? Why?”

“Because you fascinate me, Tommy!” Nightmare walked closer. Tommy couldn’t help taking a step back. “You and the other humans. You’re such pitiful creatures, yet so fascinating. You’re pawns in my game, as I’ve said before. Characters in a story I weave. I cause conflict, I cause war and I watch you suffer through it! I watch your countries fall, your friendships break! I stand by as families tear themselves apart, as brothers turn against each other! And I smile. Because it’s all my doing.”

“You say that as if you had something to do with anything I’ve been through,” Tommy spat. He wrapped his arm together around Michael who was rigid with fear.

“But I have everything to do with what you’ve gone through,” Nightmare said. “You wouldn’t have made it this far in your little search without me.”

Tommy frowned. “What?”

“You’re smart, Tommy,” Nightmare said. “I thought you would have pieced things together by now.” His eyes flashed. “Don’t you find it a coincidence that a traveler happens to stumble upon your shelter with a spare horse right when you need one? Don’t you find it odd that a trader happens to arrive at the village the day you do and just so happens to have an item that would help you? Don’t you find it odd that the competition for that item plays into your strengths, with words you know the meaning of at a personal level?”

The world swum around Tommy. It made sense all of a sudden. Nightmare was right. It had all gone too good to be a coincidence. “So you. . .” He raised his eyes to Nightmare’s. “You were-”

“I killed one of the travelers and then possessed the remaining one. I gave you the horse.” Nightmare’s voice was flat and low. “I was the trader in the village. I enchanted the compass and hid it nearby. I took over the body of the old man and found the compass and performed the competition. I even gave you a clue when we spoke.”

Appearances can be deceiving, the trader back at the village had said all those months ago. No. Nightmare had said all those months ago. He had basically thrown the truth into Tommy’s face and he had missed it!

Pieces of the story were coming together in his mind. “You were the one who I was following in the forest!” he said, remembering the movement that had led him out of the forest.

“One of my nightmares, yes.”

“And you’re the one who sent the phantoms!”

Nightmare rolled his eyes, shape shifting to look like a human’s more than ever. “You can’t possibly have thought they were phantoms. They look similar, yes, but phantoms would burn in the sunlight. They were nightmares, Tommy! My nightmares. My children. They’re the ones that haunt your dreams, that keep you awake every night. They’re the ones that slip in through your window and whisper your bad memories back into your mind and make you relive everything. They’re the ones that poison your dreams.”

Heat rose along Tommy’s neck. “You killed Rose! For what? She did nothing wrong!”

Nightmare shrugged. “She was useless in your story. She got you here but served no other purpose.”

“But why did you want me here?” Anger bubbled in Tommy’s veins and he returned to shouting. “Why am I so special to you? Why me? Why now? Why?”

“Because it’s been you all this time. Ever since the beginning of the server I’ve been with you, tormenting you.”

“I’ve never seen you before.”

“Of course I was not myself!” Nightmare shook his head incredulously. “Surely you should have realized this long ago.”

Tommy clenched his fingers around the sword. Why hadn’t he attacked Nightmare already? He had done so much wrong! He had taken Michael, killed an innocent traveler, killed Rose! So why hadn’t he struck Nightmare down?

It takes a god to kill a god, Nightmare had said. His sword would do nothing.

Nightmare glared at him. “Did it never strike you how suddenly your dear friend Dream changed so quickly from the person he was before? How the kind man who welcomed you to the server could become so cold, so unforgiving? Did it never strike you as odd?

Nothing struck Tommy more than that name. It sunk claws into his stomach and shredded his insides, twisting and slicing mercilessly. But Nightmare’s words stuck to him. This was leading somewhere and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“Did it ever make you wonder how Dream had so abruptly become a Nightmare?”

The blood ran from Tommy’s face. His arms went numb and he might have dropped both his sword and Michael then and there if it weren’t for the chill that ran through his bones at the same time, freezing him in place, clenching his muscles. He realized the implications in Nightmare’s words. But it couldn’t be real, could it? He couldn't mean it.

Suddenly Nightmare was closer, taking dangerously slow steps forward. “I was the one who called for L’manberg’s fall. I was the one who called for you exile, who abused and manipulated you on the beach of Logsteadshire. I was the one who stole your discs, who threatened to kill Tubbo and take over the server. I was the one who beat you to death in that prison and brought you back. I was there every step of the way, I knew your every decision before you took them. I was in your head, in your nightmares, I knew everything.”

He couldn’t think. He couldn't breathe. The air had been sucked out of his lungs, but Nightmare wasn’t stopping.

“Perhaps the saddest part of it all was that Dream was helpless to do anything. Stuck in his own mind, aware of everything terrible he was doing to his own friends and family, but unable to stop any of it from happening. Trapped in his body, a prisoner of his own nightmare. Tragic, really.”

It was all too much. Tommy felt the beginnings of a panic attack surfacing, his hands trembling and knees going weak, breath hitching. If the mention of his abuser’s name hadn’t been enough, learning he’d been innocent all along was enough to send him over the edge.

But he couldn't break down, not here, not now. Not with Nightmare, not while he had to protect Michael.

Michael. He still had to get Michael home. He had to get the kid to safety. But how? He couldn’t kill Nightmare, but maybe keeping him talking would give him time to form a plan. Biting back his panic, counting down from ten before he opened his mouth, he gripped Michael to bring himself back into the world.

“How was Dream conscious if I wasn’t?” he asked. “When you possessed him.”

Nightmare had stopped a mere meter away and now stepped back and the tension between them eased. “I took control of him when he was awake. He found himself suddenly unable to control his actions or his words. Any time I went to sleep as him he would fall asleep normally. I could have left him be, if I wished. But had I left his body, he would have fallen into a deep and long sleep.

“You see, when I take control of someone, they need time to regain themselves. The longer I hold control of a person, the longer they need to come back to their own body. I held onto you for merely two minutes. It would have taken you under one to regain full possession of your body. I controlled Dream for many months in a row without a break. I left him in the prison the day Sam retrieved you after I revived you. He should be waking up in several weeks, I suppose, fully in control of himself once more.”

“No…”

A sneer flashed across Nightmare’s face, flickering from a human smile to a monstrous grin with fangs and flicking tongue. “And he will be calling out for the others, trying to tell them what I had just told you. That he was not in control, that he was possessed. But no one will believe him. For who would believe the word of a liar?”

It was horrible. What he was doing to Dream, what he had done to Tommy, to Michael and everyone else on the SMP and beyond. Nightmare was living up to his name, as the worst nightmare of them all.

“You controlled him the entire time?” Tommy felt like crying. For himself or for everyone else, he didn’t know.

Nightmare’s face darkened. He crossed his arms. Once in a while Tommy saw claws flicker onto his nails and sometimes he saw scales running underneath the smoke billowing around him. “There were times when my brother DreamXD visited the server that I would release my hold. He would spend days with the NotFound boy. My brother has no idea about having real fun. He focuses too much on his little pet.”

“Why weren’t you in control when DreamXD was there?” Tommy asked.

“Us gods don’t like crossing paths,” Nightmare spat. “I prompted to stay away.”

Tommy made a mental note of that. When and if he would use it, he wasn’t sure. They might not make it out of the cave, for all he knew. He still wasn’t sure what Nightmare wanted with him.

“So I’m just a piece in your game, you say?” Tommy asked. Nightmare smiled and lifted his chin. “So what happens now? What’s the next move?”

Nightmare opened his mouth to answer and that’s when Tommy struck. He threw his sword and it passed right thorugh Nightmare, disappearing into the smoke. Tommy grabbed the torch from the boulder and leapt forward, shoving it at Nightmare. The god stumbled back when the light hit his eyes, but it seemed he was more startled than hurt. But Tommy took what he could get and shot through the entrance and into the daylight.

He wasted no time rushing down the mountain, gripping Michael tightly to his chest. He instructed the piglin to hold on with his arm and legs and to not let go in any circumstance. Michael nodded fearfully and buried his head into Tommy’s shoulder.

Using his free arm to steady himself on the way down, Tommy didn’t turn around to see where Nightmare was. He would come after them without a doubt. He hadn’t gone through all the trouble of getting them there to simply let them go now.

A familiar chorus of screeches echoed from behind him as a pack of nightmares closed in. Tommy grabbed his axe from his belt and glancing back, swung it around. Two nightmares swerved to avoid being cut but one was unlucky enough to be caught in the chest. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Tommy’s hands were bloody and scraped raw by the stones and gravel but he didn’t stop. Every step he feared would send him tumbling down the mountain to their deaths but somehow he managed to keep his balance. They made it to the bottom of the mountain. He made sure to keep his eyes off Rose’s corpse and turned Michael’s head away from it as well as they rushed into the forest.

Heat rushed through his veins, his heart pounded in his ears and his legs burned from the strain of running and carrying a child, but he didn’t stop. Leaping over tree trunks and spinning around bushes, he was making good distance. But the nightmares were on his tail.

At the last minute, Tommy leapt behind a set of bushes. The claws of a nightmare sunk into his shoulder as it flashed past, ripping deep into his flesh. Tommy bit his lip and continued running. Zigzagging through the trees, his breathing was getting more erratic. Michael had begun to cry but he had no time to calm him down.

The forest was devoid of the noises that made it alive, filled only with the high shrieks of the nightmares, bloodthirsty and merciless.

Up ahead was the stream he and Rose had stopped to drink from only several hours ago. He ignored the pang in his heart and made a beeline for it. His legs splashed into the water, ankle deep and he set off at a sun along the river bank. If only the stream would lead to a bigger river, he might find cover or another village or anything that might help. It was their only chance.

Michael shrieked, scrambling in Tommy’s arms. Tommy ducked low and a nightmare surged past his head, but another one rammed into him from the back, raking its claws across his back. Tommy screamed, rolling on the ground and pinning the nightmare underneath him. He shoved Michael from his arms and under a berrybush, then rolled off the nightmare, swinging his axe. The nightmare evaded it and slashed its talon at Tommy’s throat.

He dodged, but it cut a wound across his face and blood spilled onto his cheeks and dripped into his mouth. With a hoarse cry, he rammed the axe into the nightmare’s wing. It tumbled to the ground and Tommy cut off its head. It dissolved into smoke.

Another nightmare flew directly at him. Tommy swung the axe and it hit the nightmare with the flat edge, but with a stroke of luck it sent the creature directly into a tree. With a crack, its neck snapped and another cloud of smoke followed.

He could see no more nightmares but he could hear them close by. Reaching under the bush, he hoisted Michael into his arms again and set off at a sprint.

His lungs needed air, they ripped at his lungs and throat for some. He gulped in a breath with each step he took, but he wouldn’t be able to run for much longer. He’d spent the last two months on horseback with little food. He wasn’t nearly in as good shape as he had been before. The last few months had taken their toll. He could only hope that wouldn’t be their downfall.

Up ahead he heard a noise that sent tremors of relief coursing through him. He picked up pace, blocking out Michael’s sobbing in his ear and soon they burst out onto a river bank. Water rushed past them at a breathless pace, shimmering and blue. There was no safe way to get across and there was no cover anywhere on the banks. It was hopeless.

To the right, the river continued upstream, a straight line with no bends to hide in. On the left, the river tipped off at an edge, plummeting to the ground below in a gushing waterfall.

Nightmares shrieked behind. He had to choose a direction. He went left.

Holding Michael tightly to his chest, Tommy hid in the trees that ran along the edge of the waterfall. He peered down. The waterfall wasn’t as high as he thought it would be, but it was by no means short either. It was a twenty meter drop into a rocky lake below, white mist rising from where the water struck the stillness below.

Was it a jump they could make?

Tommy glanced to the right as a pack of nightmares burst out of the trees, eyes murderous and lustful for blood. Die taking a risk that might save their life or be slaughtered at the claws of the nightmares. It was an easy choice.

Tommy jumped.

They were suspended in the air for a second and in that time Tommy reached over and pressed his hand to Michael's mouth and squeezed his nose shut. He didn’t want the piglin drowning and choking on water. Above them, he could see the nightmares diving, claws outstretched.

He closed his eyes.

The water struck like a wall, first hard and unforgiving, then engulfing them in bubbles and pain. Every fiber in Tommy’s being screamed at him to kick to the surface, to air. But he suppressed the urges and dove deeper.

Blood oozed from the wound on his shoulder and back, seeping from the cut across his face. It misted the water, floating to the surface. At first he feared it would show their position and the nightmares would follow in. Then he realized that it would most likely seem that they had struck the rocks at the bottom of the fall and were now barely more than a couple of pieces of meat drifting in the water.

His lungs were already burning. Michael was thrashing around in his grip, pulling at his hand. It tore at his heart to see Michael so panicked, so hurt, but he pushed the feeling down. It was necessary.

A minute ticked by as they waited under the water. The dark shapes that had circled above them disappeared. Tommy waited a few more seconds before kicking to the surface.

Fresh air slapped against his face and Michael dissolved into pitiful coughs, gasping for air and shaking in Tommy’s arms. He used all remaining bits of his energy to swim to the shore, then lay there, clutching Michael to his chest. The nightmares were gone. They must have deemed the two of them dead after that fall. It was a miracle they had survived it without injuries. Perhaps somewhere in the sky there was a god looking out of them.

Despite how exhausted he was, Tommy’s mind did not share the same tiredness as his body. It ran like a wildfire spreading through a dry grassfield, thoughts swirling in his head like a hurricane. So much information had been revealed to him by Nightmare, so many things it would take months, even years for him to come to an understanding with.

But he had learned something useful. Despite how manipulating and conniving Nightmare had seemed to be, full of plans and secrets, he had revealed two important things that had stuck to Tommy.

Gods tend to steer clear from each other. And that it takes a god to kill a god.

Finding a god might keep Nightmare and his creatures away. And it might help destroy them for good. Now was the problem of finding a god before Nightmare found them. And Tommy had an idea.

Pushing himself to his feet, shaky and unsteady, he pulled Michael from the ground and ran a hand across his back in a soothing motion. Everything that had gone down in the last hour seemed to have taken their toll on Michael and soon his sniffling stopped and morphed into small, exhausted snores.

There was nothing more that Tommy wanted to do than curl down and take a nap. Maybe tend to his injuries. But that would come later. He had to get as far away from Nightmare as possible. And he had to have a direction.

Pulling out the compass hanging from his neck, Tommy watched as the arrow pointed to Michael, steady and straight.

Praying that it would work, Tommy brought the compass to his mouth.

“Technoblade,” he whispered to it. Obediently, the arrow spun around, pointing a new heading. “Take me to the Blood God.”

Chapter Text

Tommy did his best to clean his wounds to stop them from getting infected. They traveled the first two days without many breaks, moving through the thick underbrush of the forest, following the arrow of the compass. Michael clung to Tommy’s back, constantly needing some form of physical contact with him. Tommy was happy to give it, if he was being honest. He had missed the comforting feeling of hugs.

Finally, after he felt safe enough to stop, Tommy brought them to a tiny stream that slipped over some rocks in miniature waterfalls. He set Michael down and the piglin immediately ran to the rocks, hopping from one to the other.

An instinct shook Tommy, telling him to remind Michael to be careful and not slip on the rocks. The other part of him wanted to join Michael in the game, desperately clinging onto the part of him that was still a child. He had lost too much of his childhood to the trauma that wars and exiles brought him in the last year. But he couldn’t cave in. Michael depended on him to be mature and get them out of danger. He couldn’t let Michael down.

Settling by the stream, he maneuvered himself so that he could clean his wounds, scooping water and pouring it on. The ones on his back stung the most; having Michael on his back had torn at the wounds and made them bleed. Sweat had trickled into them as well, stinging like a thousand bees.

Don’t think about bees.

He let the water run down his beck, cleaning the wounds. It was cold and refreshing, like freezing fingers that smoothed his skin with a light touch. Despite the pain it caused, it was a relief.

Michael oinked excitedly, pointing at something in the deeper part of the stream. Hanging his shirt over his shoulder, Tommy walked over. Michael was hopping up and down, and reached to pull on the leg of his trousers.

“Alright, alright, calm down,” Tommy said and peered into the water. “What is it?”

Michael garbled something in piglin, then huffed once he realized Tommy couldn't understand. Face consorting, he stuck his tongue out. Tommy raised a brown, then Michael leapt up, eyes shining as he looked up at Tommy. “Fish!”

“What did you just call me?”

Michael huffed, exasperated, and pointed into the pond, finger following something. “Fish!”

Tommy peered in and true to Michael’s word, under the surface shimmered the silver scales of a fish. A smile broke onto his face. Quickly, he snapped a branch off a tree and split it’s end into four sharp points. Michael sat on a rock to the side and watched in awe. Tommy readied the spear, aiming it slightly above the fish and struck.

“Yes!” he yelled and pulled the fish out of the water, squirming on the edge of the spear. It was a good sized trout. Michael hopped up, equally happy, it seemed. He probably didn’t realize what had just happened, most likely thinking that the fish was coming to play with them instead of joining them for dinner. As the dinner. Tommy didn’t want to break the news to him.

“Hey, Michael,” he said, hiding the fish behind his back. “Why don’t you go find some firewood. Dry sticks and shrubs. Don’t go too far and make sure I can see you.”

Michael oinked happily and sprung into action. He hopped around their makeshift camp, following Tommy’s orders of staying nearby. Tommy didn’t take his eyes off Michael for more than a few seconds as he prepared the fish, skinning it and cutting it.

Once Michael returned with his arms full of sticks, he sat the piglin down and went through step by step about how to build a fire. He wasn’t sure how to entertain the kid and the last few days had gone by in relative silence and boredom. He tried his best but he wasn’t a parent.

He wasn’t Tubbo or Ranboo.

But Michael seemed fascinated by the thought of fire. It made sense since piglins lived near large lava lakes in the Nether and the whole place was boiling hot. Fire was home for him.

When he pulled out the flint and steel, Michael reached out for them. Tommy instructed him on how to use them, first showing the movement by directing Michael’s hands, then letting the kid do it himself. It took a long time before he struck sparks and Tommy’s patience waned, but he would much rather take his time teaching Michael than suffer through his constant whines about nothing to do.

In the end, Tommy had to take over and start the fire. Once it was going properly, though, Tommy made sure to praise Michael for his work. The piglin beamed despite not having started the fire, then rushed off to play by the stream again.

While the fish cooked on the fire, Tommy made sure to keep an eye on Michael and the woods surrounding them. He lived in constant fear that the nightmares would track them down and find them. They had traveled a good distance from the waterfall where they had lost their pursuers, but he didn’t know how far they could go without being noticed.

Could the nightmares track them down when they slept? He couldn’t stay awake the entire journey to Technoblade, nor did he have the heart to keep Michael from sleeping either. If they didn’t rest properly, it would only make things worse. But there was a risk sleeping would make them be found out.

Tommy’s eyes were sandy and sore. He hadn’t dared fall asleep yet and he doubted he could have found a good position to sleep with all his wounds. It would take until the end of the week for him to regenerate completely but he already knew that he had gathered more than a fair amount of new scars.

He was only glad that scars didn’t bother Michael. He was probably used to seeing them on Tubbo’s face.

Don’t think about him. The longing he had once felt for his friends was long gone, replaced by anger. They hadn’t hesitated exiling him, they didn’t deserve to be missed. He missed the times they had spent together, not the people.

He sat on the ground by the stream, gazing into the fire. From the right, water splashed on him and Michael squealed happily.

Slowly, Tommy turned to the piglin, wiping off the water the kid had splashed on his face, eyebrows raised. Michael grinned innocently, hiding his soaked hands behind his back, but the smile on his face gave his guilt away.

“Oh, really?” Tommy asked. He flicked water at Michael, who jumped out of the way, giggling. Tommy splashed water again and this time Michael splashed some back. Tommy laughed and stood up, feigning anger. “You’re going to regret that.”

Michael shot off at a run and Tommy chased after him, leaving the trees around their campsite. Michael ducked behind stumps, rolled under bushes, staining his clothes in dirt, but nothing seemed to dull his glee.

Finally Tommy managed to cut Michael off and scooped him up in his arm, hanging him upside down. He dug his fingers into Michael’s sides, wiggling them and sent Michael into a fit of giggles. Joy bubbled up in his own chest and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as well.

They settled down for the rest of the night, eating the fish from the river with some pieces of dry meat that Tommy had left in his inventory. He gave the fish to Michael and he gobbled it down happily, seemingly not realizing it was their friend from before. He scarfed down a couple of pieces of dry meat but they didn’t seem to please him much. Tommy ate what remained and then snuffed out the fire. He didn’t want nightmares following a smoke trail.

He unrolled a quilt onto the ground and settled down on it, laying on his back. Michael sped around their campsite without a sign of stopping. Tommy called him over. Michael promptly jumped onto Tommy’s stomach, winding him and sending a flash of pain through his back.

“Primes, what was that for?” he squeaked as Michael rolled off giggling. Turning to the side, he pulled Michael to the ground and tried wrapping an arm around him. Michael squirmed out of his grip and continued running around.

Tommy sighed and leaned back. Michael ran circles with an endless store of energy. How was he supposed to get the kid to sleep? He needed his rest, he hadn’t slept since the day he had found Michael. Michael had dozed off on his back several times and slept through the last two nights but now he didn’t seem to be stopping.

“Michael!” he groaned. Michael stopped and looked at him, twitching his ear and tilting his head. “Come here.”

Michael shook his head and resumed hopping around. It was time for desperate measures.

When the piglin passed him, Tommy reached out and grabbed him. Michael made a high noise of surprise as Tommy pulled him next to him again. But this time he wrapped the quilt around Michael, trapping him in the fabric, effectively cocooning him. Michael kicked, defeated, then sagged. He glared at Tommy.

“You aren’t allowed to be mad at me,” Tommy defended himself, gripping the quilt. “You brought this upon yourself.”

For a moment they lay in silence, Michael wigging every now and then to try and escape. Then Tommy spoke.

“Have you heard of the legend of Technoblade?” he asked. Michael stilled beside him and popped his head out of the cocoon. His ears were perked up. “No?” Tommy sighed dramatically. “Well, you probably won’t want to hear the story, then. You’d rather run around, wouldn’t you?”

Michael oinked and stared up at him. Tommy suppressed a smile. The trap was set and Michael had fallen right in.

“If I tell you his story, will you go to sleep?” Michael nodded. “Alright then.

“Long ago, in the far reaches of the Nether, a piglin hybrid was born. Technoblade, they called him, a warrior cursed to hear the voices of his victims in his head. Over years he traversed the hot hills and lakes of the Nether, growing, training. Until one day he reached the Overworld, a new dimension, unfamiliar and full of surprises.

“Over the next decades or perhaps centuries, Technoblade studied the art of the blade, read books and studied tomes on the mysteries of warfare. He fought many battles, numerous enemies and as the years passed, the voices in his head - the Chat, he called them - multiplied. One voice turned to a hundred, a hundred turned to thousands more. They were endless, unforgiving. And they all thirsted for blood.”

Michael cooed in wonder. Tommy grinned. He was glad Michael was as excited for the story and wasn’t shocked by the mentions of violence. Ranboo probably would have been horrified to hear Tommy telling the story to Michael. Immediately Tommy’s heart dropped and he pushed the thought out of his head. He continued.

“Technoblade traveled across the world, found servers and SMP’s. He fought battles against a single enemy, sometimes two, sometimes more. Sometimes alone, sometimes with temporary allies. They say that he had a streak of battles he never lost. Over a thousand, the legends say. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.

“A battle for the winner of a war of potatoes, as ridiculous as it sounds, took months of patience and perseverance for him to win. But he did. He walked away as a victor, proud of what he had achieved. He moved away. Then, one day, he was called to help on a distant server by a boy. He answered the call for help, because despite the voices and the name people called him - The Blood God, they said - he wasn’t bad. He wasn’t evil.”

Tommy’s heart burned as memories surfaced of the Battle of the Lake, of Pogtopia, of everything that followed. Exile. Doomsday. The Prison. Suddenly the memories became too much to bear and he had to stop.

“There’s a lot to tell about him,” he said. Michael’s eyes were wide with wonder. “If you go to sleep now, maybe I’ll tell you something tomorrow.”

Michael nodded excitedly and burrowed himself into Tommy’s side. Something warm spread in his chest at the action. He pulled Michael closer and wrapped an arm around the piglin.

He hoped the stories about Technoblade might warm Michael to the idea of him. Even Tommy still found himself intimidated by Techno sometimes, his large stature and mildly horrifying piglin features. He had no idea how Michael might react. If he could get the idea of Technoblade being good and an ally into his tiny child head, it might make it easier to get used to him once they made it to his house. And it might warm Techno up to Michael as well.

They were going to make it to Techno’s. They had to.

He pulled Michael tighter to his chest, smiling as soft snores reached his ears from the quilt cocoon. And as the moon rose high into the sky, peeking through the treetops, Tommy drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

The masked man towered over him, raising a fist and bashing it down over and over again. Pain erupted over Tommy’s body as kicks and hits rained down on him, unrelenting, each one ripping into his skin and shattering his bones, bruising his flesh and scraping it raw. Tears leaked down his cheeks, words left his lips, pleas for mercy, none of which were heeded.

He raised his eyes to Dream, then flinched back as in the place of the man now stood Nightmare, eyes too large for his face, mouth hanging open, ready to swallow him into the black void. Smoke billowed around him, forming the walls of the prison,dark obsidian with streams of purple filling the cracks of the crying obsidian.

Claws raked across Tommy’s face, blinding him, until he wiped the blood from his face and he was staring at Tubbo.

“You killed him!” Tubbo screamed, unsheathing a dagger. Suddenly they were at the bottom of the L’Manberg crater, explosions going off above them. Tubbo slashed the dagger down and Tommy rolled out of the way, pain racing through his body. “You killed Michael!”

Tommy tried to yell back, but his voice wouldn’t work. He ran away, but his legs were heavy, sinking into the ground beneath his feet. He glanced down and the ground turned to sand, dragging him underneath. When he glanced up, he was on the shores of Logsteadshire, the sea lapping ground before him, inching closer.

To the right, a man was approaching with a familiar porcelain mask, covered with blood and cracks. A bloody axe dragged the ground behind him. A body with messy hair and small horns lay on the ground behind him.

The sand pulled him deeper and the water of the sea reached him, slowly rising higher and higher. Dream approached, tilting his head, looming closer. The sea was rising, up his chest, the sand held onto him and he sank lower, Dream was almost on him, the water spilt over his lips, ran into his nose, he choked, he screamed for help, Dream swung his axe down-

Tommy’s eyes shot open and he flinched awake. His eyes searched the dim room, the oak walls of the temporary shelter he’d been able to get at the village they had stumbled upon. A torch sat on the wall, glowing lightly, pushing the shadows to the sides, driving away the night.

Hurriedly, Tommy shook Michael awake, lifting the blanket he was curled under. Michael groaned and burrowed deeper into his side, but he didn’t relent. He shook Michael awake, pulling him up into a seating position. The piglin rubbed his eyes, banging his head against Tommy’s collarbone.

Tommy’s sword was in his hand in a moment, sweat beaded his brow. He’d had a nightmare. He’d had a nightmare. They had been found, the nightmares would invade the small house, they would take Michael and kill him and they’d rip Tommy to pieces.

Silence sat still around them. Michael seemed to have sensed Tommy’s fear and was frozen in his grip, wide eyes looking around their small cabin. Nothing moved. The only noises were the birds of the early morning weakening up slowly and the iron protector of the village walking around the dirt paths.

How were they still alive? Tommy ha had a nightmare, the nightmare’s had been here, but they were still alive. Neither of them were hurt, there was no alert in the village for an attack. What was happening?

Had the nightmare not realized who they were? Tommy had made sure to keep Michael hidden in case the nightmares might be searching for them, despite them most likely knowing it was him if they ever did cross paths, but had it worked? Had they mistaken him as a normal villager when they passed through? Or was something yet to happen?

He wasn’t willing to take a chance. If the nightmares were here, he didn’t want to stick around to see what they might do.

“We need to go,” he whispered to Michael. He rolled of the bed they shared and started shoving their things into his bag. Michael sat, wrapped in blankets on the bed, ears pressed tight against his head. He oinked quietly. Tommy glanced at him. “It’s going to be fine. We’re just leaving early, that’s all.”

The piglin didn’t seem to believe it, but slid from the bed, and pulled his shoes on. They were knew, more fit for traveling long distance. Tommy had bought them from a carpenter the day before after Michael wouldn’t stop whining about them. In fact, they were a good choice when he started looking at the perks. Now they fitted well onto Michael’s feet.

Tommy tightened the straps on his bag and turned to Michael. He kid held out his chubby hand and Tommy took hold of it. He pulled his sword from his belt and slowly opened the door. Stars still lit the sky, and the moon was setting over a mass of mountains to the east.

To the right the iron golem stood alert, eyes roaming the streets. For a moment it stared at Tommy and Michael, hidden in the shadows, then it moved away. Keeping an eye out for nightmares, Tommy pulled Michael along, moving close to the walls. They reached the end of the village with a field with tall grass. Good. It would hide them well.

The blades of grass slunk against his skin as they passed, tickling. He turned to Michael and put a reminding finger to his lips so that Michael wouldn’t react if. Michael pressed his lips together and frowned in concentration. Tommy’s heart would have melted if it wasn’t racing in his chest.

Tommy crouched low to keep himself hidden. He pulled Michael close to himself, pressing the piglin against his leg and wrapped an arm around him. Michael pressed his face against his side, clearly scared at the abrupt start to their night. If only he could just pick Michael up, tell him it was going to be okay, and go to sleep and let him rest. But they had to leave. The nightmares had visited and hadn’t realized who they were, but they might realize their mistake soon. He didn’t want to be there when it happened and he sure as Prime didn’t want Michael anywhere near the things.

They moved through the field in silence as the world stood still. They reached the end of the grass and ahead sat the large empty plane of a savanna. Acacia trees sat far apart, barely giving any shelter from the sun that would rise in several hours. There were few shadows to hide them from the moon.

Tommy glanced behind them at the field, then back at the savanna again. Staying in the grass might keep them hidden better. But there was no way of knowing what lurked in the thick bushes. And he didn’t like how close they were to the nightmares.

He scooped Michael up into his arms and placed a hand on his head. Michael whimpered lightly, tiny heart beating fast against Tommy’s skin. Keeping his eyes on the ground, Tommy ran from one acacia tree to the next, moving as with the shadows that the leaves cast on the ground. Slowly they made they way further and further into the savanna, leaving behind the village they had spent the last day in.

As the moon sank behind the mountains and the world was cast into darkness, it was easier to cross over the plateau. Clouds drifted over the sky, obscuring the stars. Tommy breathed in the fresh air, trying to calm his nerves. Michael’s hands dug into his back.

The images of his nightmares swirled in his head, piling on top of each other with each step he took. He pushed them away. It was startling to have a nightmare after a while of not having some and this had been one of the worst ones he’d had.

It wasn’t time to think about the nightmares. He would have time for that once they were safe. Once Michael was safe.

But the savanna wasn’t ending. It stretched out for as far as the eye could see. Tommy glanced down at the compass in his hand. The arrow pointed straight ahead, unwavering. They were returning the same direction Tommy had come from, but he didn’t dare take the same path back in case Nightmare was watching over the places he had been.

Michael snored lightly against his collarbone. Tommy stopped for a moment and took a quilt from his bag and wrapped it around the piglin. He snugged in happily, letting out a content noise.

“Don’t worry, Michael,” Tommy whispered lightly, steeling his gaze on the journey ahead. “You’ll be home soon.”

Chapter Text

Tommy was ready for the thunderstorm when it came. Michael was not.

He’d spotted the large dark mass of cloud approaching them from behind early in the morning of their third day on the savanna, creeping forward, slow and ominous. Clouds rolled over one another and if Tommy strained his ears he could hear the distant rumbling of unhappy gods.

Tommy glanced at Michael, running ahead, picking the occasional flower he came across.

It had soon become apparent in their journey that Tommy couldn’t carry Michael the whole way to Techno’s. Though his back was healed to the point it barely hurt anymore, carrying Michael would make him need more breaks and slow them down, not to mention that the more exhausted he became, the more he would need sleep. The one thing he was trying to avoid.

Surprisingly, though, Michael didn’t seem too disgruntled about having to walk long distances. In fact, just like now, he would often race ahead of Tommy, chasing after butterflies or garbling piglin to some poor animal hiding in what little shelter it could find in the sweltering heat.

The sun beat down on them daily, hammering them to the ground with boiling fists. Tommy had ripped rags from his shirts and spilled water over them and then handed one to Michael to keep on his head. It was a relief against the head and Michael seemed to have enjoyed it.

So it should have been a relief when the rain started, dripping to the ground first as pairs of drops, then tens and thousands. Soon, it was pouring down. But Tommy didn’t have time to enjoy it.

The first rumbles of thunder started long ago but they had reached Tommy and Michael faster than he had anticipated. Michael came running back to him, face pale, reaching his arms up, squeaking in fear. Tommy hoisted him up and whispered soothing words into his ear, surprised at how hard the kid held onto him.

His eyes scanned the savanna. Some distance ahead he spotted a thick acacia tree growing beside a large boulder. It would be an efficient shelter from the storm. He picked up pace and jogged the way to the tree, careful not to slip on the mud forming rapidly on the ground.

“Hey, hey, Michael,” he said, soothing. “It’s fine. It’s alright. The thunder isn’t going to hurt you. I’m not going to let it hurt you, okay? You’re safe.”

Michael gave only a pitiful oink to acknowledge even having heard Tommy.

Rain pounded on Tommy’s back. He put a hand over Michael’s eyes to stop the water from falling into them. The weather was a bitch that way.

They reached shelter. Tommy set Michael down by the trunk of the acacia tree. The wood and the boulder were wedged together, creating an angle between them. It gave shelter from two directions and the leaves above them formed a roof from the rain. Still, water poured down and dripped on them from above.

He shrugged off his bag and dug through it. At the bottom sat his extra clothes, the ones he had for colder and wetter climates. He pulled out a thick cloak and closed the bag. Michael cried by the tree, trembling as thunder struck and lightning flashed in the sky.

Settling down against the tree, Tommy lifted Michael so that he was leaning against Tommy’s knees. He squeezed the bag beneath his legs, then draped the cloak over them, in a makeshift tent. Immediately Michael quieted, wrapping his arms around Tommy’s torso and leaning into him. Tommy shifted the cloak around for a moment, tucking the cloak over his head so that he could have his hands free. He ran them across Michael’s back and held him tightly.

The poor piglin sobbed against his chest, quivering like the leaves of the acacia tree in the wind of the ever worsening storm.

In vain Tommy tried to calm him down. But unlike in Snowchester where he had just tucked Michael into his bed and held his hand, this time they weren’t in a house, they weren’t even in a proper shelter. They were in the storm, just them, with the only semblance in safety being the one they drew from each other.

“Hey, big man,” Tommy said gently. Michael’s ear twitched, and his cries quieted, if only slightly. “Remember back at home, at your house? When you got scared of the thunder and you grabbed onto me like a leach? That’s what I called you then. Do you remember that?”

Michael nodded.

“Yeah? Well, we’re not at home right now. But I didn’t let the thunder hurt you then, did I? You held my hand and you were all okay, right?” Another nod. “So we’re not at home right now. But that doesn't change the fact that I’m not going to let the thunder get to you. You’re safe as long as I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere, big M. I’m staying right here, I’m not leaving you.”

Michael seemed to calm down at his words, his sobs dwindling down to soft cries. Thunder shook the sky above them and immediately the sobs were back, but Tommy calmed them down by soothing Michael’s back again.

Michael reached out a hand and gripped Tommy’s hair, holding it in a tight fist. “Gold,” he whispered, so quiet Tommy could barely hear him. The action made his heart both melt and burn, and made something pop into his mind. How hadn’t he remembered it?

As lightning flashed on the other side of the cloak, Tommy reached around his neck and pulled off the golden chain he had found in the igloo all those weeks ago. He had taken it with the objective of giving it to Michael, and somehow had forgotten to give it to him.

“If you think my hair is gold, you’re really going to like this,” he said, hanging the necklace where Michael could see it. The piglin raised his eyes and his eyes landed on the gold, glowing in what little light shone in through and underneath the cloak. His eyes widened comically and he reached out of the necklace. Tommy let him have it.

Gone was the fear of thunder, Michael was entranced by the gold, holding it tightly in his hand. Tracing the chains with his eyes, he seemed to have lost all his previous fear. The thunder was lost beside the gold.

“ Gold?” Michael asked.

“Yeah! It’s real gold. Though my hair is quite valuable in itself too. You had better be thankful for being able to touch it,” Tommy said, puffing out his chest. Michael startled at the movement underneath him and Tommy let go of his breath. A giggle escaped Michael’s mouth at the sudden drop beneath him. The sound made Tommy’s chest swell.

He took the chain gently from Michael’s hands and placed it around the piglin’s neck. Michael marveled at it as if it was the greatest thing he had ever seen. It made Tommy smile.

A boom shook the earth underneath them, sending shivers running down Tommy’s back and into his veins. Michael froze up in his arms, crying out and covering his ears. He scrambled to burrow himself against Tommy, grasping onto his shirt and hiding underneath it. Tommy looked down at the lump that now sat under his shirt and grasped for ideas.

The gold had calmed Michael down until the latest thunder, ten times louder than any before. Each boom seemed to shake the earth, thrashing it around and pelting it with lightning strikes and rain. Water splashed around them, rivulets racing to where they sat. Tommy grabbed his bag and lifted it off the ground to save it from the water.

What was he supposed to do now? He had no gold left to give to Michael and he doubted his hair would do any good anymore. The thunder was loud enough to shatter his ears and it terrified Michael beyond imagination. What was he supposed to do to help?

A memory from long ago surfaced in his mind. A part of him wanted to push it down, just as he had pushed down all the other memories including him. Shoving aside images of the head of curly hair, round glasses and once kind eyes. He wanted to. But the other part of him realized that it might work. And if it could help Michael, it was worth it.

He hadn’t sung in years. Not in front of anyone, at least, and only a few times to himself. The memories singing brought with it were too painful. But maybe he had put off doing it for too long. He couldn’t let Wilbur control his life any longer.

His words were quiet, gentle. He didn’t dare sing them louder, afraid that he was breaking something he wasn’t supposed to, shattering his long silence. But it was enough. Michael stilled against his chest, ears twitching against the top of his shirt. Big eyes stared up at him from the neck of his T-shirt. A smile played on his lips and he continued, wrapping Michael in an embrace. The world disappeared around him as he sang, morphing into nothingness as it always had before.

Singing was his escape. It was something he had always enjoyed doing, but he never dared to. Wilbur had been the singer in their friendship. Tommy wasn’t supposed to be one too.

But now he regretted not singing, seeing the way that Michael relaxed in his arms, hanging to every note, every word. Would his friends have had a similar reaction? Would it have helped any of their fears, aided with their nightmares and anxiety? Could he have been a better friend?

It was too late now. He would never know. After what they had done to him, he would never trust them with his singing again.

Rain pattered the ground around them, drumming a beat to his words, thunder rumbled like a bass in the distance, the storm still directly above but not nearly as threatening as it had once been.

Hours passed in minutes as he sat there, holding Michael close to his chest, letting himself sing freely for the first time in forever. The storm pressed down on their huddled figures, hidden underneath the cloak draped across them. And Tommy didn’t care. For the first time in months, for that small moment, though it was brief, he felt okay.

Chapter Text

The months passed slowly. A part of Tommy was glad. He grew fond of Michael fast, his energetic stride, giggles and antics, and he wanted their time together to last. Michael reminded him of himself when he was younger. Before the wars, before everything had gone wrong. It had been too long since he had spent time with someone who hadn’t been completely traumatized by something.

That wasn’t to say that Michael had escaped the ordeal with Nightmare without repercussions. He didn’t like the dark and would often glance into corners of dark caves or rooms any time they were fortunate enough to find a village to stay in for the night. Tommy made sure to reassure Michael that he was safe any time he seemed scared.

He wasn’t going to let Michael be affected by the shit Nightmare had done.

As he spent more time with Michael, he also noticed a part of him he hadn’t noticed had been lost, returning. The part of him full of energy, the itch in his gut to cause mischief, the jokes and quips that had once been a normal part of his day that had disappeared on his journey to find Michael, with no one to talk to but Rose.

But now he had Michael. Michael, who was slowly learning to talk more, and despite not being able to hold a conversation, still understood what Tommy said, and laughed at his jokes. It felt amazing.

He felt human.

A month turned to two, two months turned to four. Half a year passed on the road, six long months dragging by, each day more precious than the last. They traveled hundreds of thousands of blocks, crossed hills and valleys, sailed gulfs, lakes and seas. Tommy did his best to lead them a different route than the one he came.

Michael grew rapidly in size, though he was still barely tall enough to reach Tommy’s hip even on his toes. Tommy kept a mark on his height by sewing in a new line on his pants every month to signify where the top of Michael’s head was. Six marks several centimeters apart sat on his thigh. He would often trace them on the nights he couldn’t sleep.

Each time Michael ripped a pant leg or picked a stitch on his shirt too much, Tommy would repair it with supplies he had bought in a village. It had taken him many hours in exile to learn the technique of stitching, and though the learning experience hadn’t been related to much fun, he was thankful for it now. The look on Michael’s face every time he received his clothing back made all the pricks on his fingers worth it.

It was the cold that alerted Tommy of their nearing destination. The chill that seeped over the woods, slithering through their thick jackets and boots. Michael pulled his hood over his head so far that the fur covered his face completely. Tommy checked that the piglin’s hands were covered and boots were snug on his feet. He adjusted the gold necklace so that it was on top of the clothes in case Michael needed it to feel safer.

Technoblade lived in the tundra, in the middle of the snow, he remembered. The tops of the spruce trees ahead were frosting over and clouds gathered above. In the distance he could see snow, falling down softly. They were close. They were almost there.

All good things must come to an end.

Tubbo’s words from almost a year ago ran through his hairs when it all went wrong.

A crawling feeling up the back of his neck that made him turn around. A sword flashed and for a moment Tommy could see a reflection of the jagged scar that cut across his face, before he threw himself to the ground, covering Michael with his body.

He was up on his feet in an instant, pulling himself up against the spruce trees around. He pushed Michael behind the trunk and pulled his sword out.

A chill ran down his back as Nightmare turned around, twirling his sword about, a fanged, vile smile creeping onto his face. “You didn’t think I was going to let you escape, did you?”

Heat rose up Tommy’s neck. His fists clenched and he unclasped the cloak around his shoulders, not wanting anything to restrict his movement. He threw it back to cover Michael.

The cold touch of fear spread across his body, clashing with the boiling anger that seethed through his veins. A part of him had wished that with only a few close calls with nightmares in the last few months, they might have escaped Nightmare completely. He’d known it was a foolish hope and this was proof.

Nightmare’s name was acid on his tongue when he spit it out. His tone did nothing to shake the smile off the god’s face.

“You never cease to amaze me with how far you will go to protect those you care for,” Nightmare laughed. “All this for what? For the son of the boy who betrayed you? For the people who banished you, exiled you and threw you out of your own home? The family that betrayed you? Why do you keep fighting?”

Tommy rushed forward, swinging his sword. It swung through Nightmare’s body like it was smoke. He kicked, but his leg phazed straight through. Gritting his teeth, he slashed his sword forward, cutting Nightmare one slice at a time. But the sword never made contact. Instad, Nightmare only flickered before him, a smile sitting on his face.

“You fight in vain,” he continued. “You mortals always do. You’re born, you die and you’re meaningless in the great scheme of things. You’re nothing but ants in my eyes!”

“I don’t know what fucking bug obsession you have with me,” Tommy growled,” but I suggest you leave us alone before I kill you!”

“A mortal cannot kill a god! I’ve told you this before! You’re exhausting yourself for nothing!”

Thoughts swirled in Tommy’s mind as he backed away, sword poised. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Michael peek from underneath the cloak, eyes wide and full of fear. He had to protect Michael. But he couldn’t harm Nightmare, that was one thing that the god was right about. Tommy was mortal, he couldn’t injure a god. He had no torch to shove into Nightmare’s face this time.

Their only hope was reaching Technoblade before they were killed. But how far away was he? Tommy had traveled long through the snowy biome when he had escaped exile. There was barely any snow yet. It could be hundreds, if not thousands of blocks to Technoblade. Could they make it?

Nightmare surged forward abruptly and stabbed his sword forward. Tommy twisted his body but the blade sunk into his stomach.The sting made him grit his teeth. A cold feeling spread across the wound.

Parrying the next strike, Tommy held himself back from making counter attacks. They would do no good for him and would only drain his energy. Energy he needed to get Michael out of there. Who knew what Nightmare would do if he got a hold of the piglin. Would he kill Michael? Take him back to the mountain they had fled from all those months ago? Would he hurt him, use him, make him one of his minions?

Tommy wasn’t going to let it happen.

He ducked below a swing and slipped behind a tree. The blade of Nightmare’s sword thudded into the wood, but instead of becoming stuck, the blade retracted with ease. Tommy bragged some gravel off the ground and threw it around the tree to where he thought Nightmare’s face might be. There was a cackle. “Try again,” Nightmare taunted.

“Fuck you,” Tommy growled and leapt from around the tree. He caught Nightmare’s sword against his own, pushing it. Suddenly the sword turned partially to smoke, letting Tommy’s own weapon phase through, then it solidified and cut into Tommy’s stomach. He gasped and a kick on the wound sent him reeling back to the ground.

He gasped for breath, pressing his hand to his abdomen, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was no longer in the forest. He was laying on the wooden walkways of New L’Manberg. Instead of Nightmare, in front of him stood Dream.

There was no time to wonder. He shot to his feet, rolling away. Dream surged after him, swinging down an axe. It hit the ground where Tommy’s foot had been only moments ago. Dream wasted no time bringing the axe about again. Tommy was on his feet, but didn’t move fast enough and the blade sunk into his chest- and did nothing.

It passed straight through.

“What the fuck?” Tommy whispered. Something crashed into his stomach again, above the wound, pushing him off his feet. He saw nothing, no adversary. Dream stood still several meters, mask staring blankly. He seemed frozen.

A punch landed on Tommy’s jaw from an unseen adversary. He covered his head as another hit hit his temple.

What was going on?

Pain burst across his left arm and blood soaked his shirt and jacket.. Another jab and his thigh burned hot.

Tommy swung his sword around in a wide arc. It hit something solid, and gave a thunk of hitting wood, but Tommy was nowhere near a tree. It dawned on him then.

This was a nightmare. He was having a nightmare while awake. It wasn’t real. And while he saw only a false representation of reality, Nightmare was free to do whatever he wanted. Panic flared in Tommy’s chest. Nightmare could hurt Michael and Tommy would be unable to stop it.

Crying out, Tommy wrenched the sword out of the tree and thrust it in a random direction. His wounds flared. The sword hit air. He swung it again, keeping it well above the point where Michael’s head would be if he happened to stand up. He couldn’t bear the thought of killing the kid by accident.

Laughter echoed from behind him, grating and low. Tommy twisted around to stare at the drop off the walkway of L’Manberg. He knew it wasn’t real, it was just a projection. But it looked real. Yet Nightmare’s laughter echoed out on the water.

Tommy ran forward. His feet left the walkway and for a moment his heart thudded in his chest so loud it must have rivaled the explosions that had destroyed the beautiful landscape in his nightmare. Then, as he should have dropped into the water, his legs hit solid ground. He swung the sword. It hit nothing. He swung it again. He heard branches break.

Nightmare kept on laughing.

A sound alerted Tommy from behind and he swung around, poising his sword to strike. He froze.

Michael stood on the walkway before him, eyes wide and trembling, huddled in his thick fur coat. There was a scratch on his cheek from a branch. Tears welled in his eyes.

“Michael,” Tommy gasped and started lowering his sword. Then he stopped.

This was Michael before him, there was no question about it. It was the same face he’d come to know perfectly through nights singing him to sleep and holding him as the boat rides made them both sick. The clothes were the ones he had spent a ridiculous time bargaining the price for after seeing them on the market. But there were small imperfections that didn’t match up. The small allium he had sown into Michael’s sleeve wasn’t there, nor was the fur around the hood wet from where Michael had insisted on suckling on it as they walked.

And the most notable difference was the absence of the gold chain around Michael’s neck.

Tommy lowered the sword as if in an act to put it away, then brought it up and slashed it over the top of Michael’s head, to the height where he suspected Nightmare’s face might be. Something smoke-like flashed across his arm as it passed through the air, but Nightmare’s laughter stopped.

Michael disappeared into the mist.

“Stop this!” Tommy yelled, turning around. Dream had disappeared. Lanterns hung in the sky, vibrant colors. A part of Tommy wished it could be real, that he could have spent more time in this new form of the home he had once had. But L’Manberg was in the past. Getting Michael away from Nightmare and reaching the protection of Technoblade’s home was now his top priority.

“You aren’t as easily fooled as I might have thought,” Nightmare’s raspy voice came from behind him. Tommy turned around and saw nothing, but didn’t swing. Attacking wouldn’t do anything but waste his energy. He kept it up as a defense instead. “But you will still lose.”

Fire burned on his back as a blade slashed across it. He turned around and something cut the flesh at the back of his knee. He fell to the ground. Something hard hit his face and his nose burst with blood. A foot caught his stomach once more on the cut and Tommy collapsed on all fours. He spat out blood and made an effort to lift his sword. It was wrenched out of his grip and a sword cut through the back of his hand into the ground. Tommy cried out. The sword left and all stood still.

Tommy gasped for breath. His chest ached, his body was on fire. He had no strength to move.

Tears pricked at his eyes. The pain brought too many memories from his past. L’Manberg. Exile. The prison. Death. Everything traumatic that had happened to him in his short life.

All of it caused by Nightmare. He had hurt so many people, done so much harm. Controlled Dream and made him suffer, he had manipulated Tommy, his friend and everyone in L’Manberg. He had destroyed their home, ripped them apart and killed them. He had brought Tommy back from the dead, forced him back into life as something not quite dead but not quite alive either.

Nightmare was the worst of them all. He had played his game, made them all his pawns without them knowing. No more.

A question that had been burning in his mind for months pushed to the front of his thoughts again. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he would never forgive himself if he didn’t ask.

“Wilbur,” he said. “Did you control him?”

Nightmare barked out a laugh. “No. I never controlled him. Though if you’re asking if I was a part of him losing his mind, then, perhaps. My nightmares wouldn’t leave him alone during the nights. He wouldn’t sleep, they told me, so afraid he was of their horrors. Instead he spent nights thinking, wondering. Doubting. Be became paranoid. Which led to his fall.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure if he preferred this outcome. Would it have been better to know Wilbur had been controlled? Would he rather have Wilbur unable to do anything but watch himself hurt those he loved, destroy what he had built? Or was the option where he had gone insane of his own accord better?

It had happened. No matter the reason, it had happened and there was no taking it back. But now he knew. And that was enough.

Tommy pushed himself to his feet. He closed his eyes. There was no need for him to confuse himself with a world that wasn’t real.

“Michael?” he called out, voice hoarse. He leaned against a tree, holding onto his sword limply. He waited for an attack. None came. “Michael? Answer me, buddy.”

A soft oink came from his right. He could have recognized the noise anywhere. With weak feet, he started running to the noise. Nightmare barked out a laugh somewhere behind.

“What will your pet do for you?” Nightmare chuckled. “He’s not even big enough for a proper snack.”

Tommy wasn’t going to use him as a snack. He was going to use Michael as a guide.

As he ran, Tommy brought his bloody hand up to his neck. From the reaches of his clothes, he pulled out Techno’s compass. He ripped the cord from around his neck and held on to the compass piece, making sure not to let it slip on his wet fingers.

Michael’s oinks lead him to the kid fast. They crashed together lightly and Tommy grasped around for Michael who clung to his leg for dear life. They didn’t have long before Nightmare realized Tommy had a plan.

He crouched low and felt around for Michael’s hand. When he found it, he pressed the compass into the soft palm. “Follow the arrow, Michael,” he whispered, hoping Nightmare wouldn’t hear. He could almost sense Michael’s confusion. “Follow the arrow. It’s going to take us to Technoblade. Remember the warrior I told you about? He’s going to help us. But I need you to be a warrior now too, okay? You need to follow the arrow. Run as fast as you can. And don’t let go of my hand.”

Michael grabbed onto Tommy with a grip tighter than Tommy had ever felt before. His hand burned within the grasp of small fingers but he ignored it.

Nightmare growled from behind them. “What are you doing?”

Tommy pressed his eyes shut tight and squeezed Michael’s hand. “GO!”

Michael tugged him in a direction and Tommy ran. His legs pumped, blood dripped down his thigh and all he wanted to do was collapse and lay down. Give in to the pain and be done with it. But Michael wasn’t stopping. He was running, leading them through the wood at a pace Tommy had never known he could keep. Nightmare roared behind them, crashing through branches in his fury. Good. It told Tommy where he was.

Branches broke close behind. Tommy swung his sword back. It seemed to startle Nightmare as for a moment the sounds of pursuit stopped. But the swing had been too wide and Tommy’s sword had lodged into a tree again. It ripped out of his grasp, twisting his wrist. He kept going.

He opened his eyes for a peek. The nightmare world was falling to shred around him, burning away and giving glimpses of the real world. They were racing through the spruce forest. Some distance away Tommy saw flashes of snowy ground on a flat plateau. The compass in Michael’s hand trembled rapidly.

New L’Manberg fell away. The arrow of the compass shook. Tommy ignored the pain in his arms and scooped Michael up, shooting past the trees. Nightmare roared behind. He didn’t dare look back. They burst through the trees, stumbling at the uneven ground. Snow pelted the ground ahead and rained from the sky slowly, a sharp contrast to the racing beat of his heart.

They had to be close. Technoblade’s house had to be near.

But there was no cottage. There was no warm light, no pens, no horses. No snow foxes milling around. Tommy didn’t recognize the world around them.

Claws sank into his back and Tommy lost his footing. He covered Michael’s head as they tumbled into the snow, a flurry of white erupting around them, stained red from his wounds. Tommy covered Michael with his body, held tight as the piglin sobbed into his chest, waiting for the flash of pain as Nightmare delivered the final blow. . .

But it never came.

Tommy peered over his shoulder.

Shielding them from the dark shape of Nightmare, a shining netherite axe hanging from his grip, his signature blood red cape blowing in the wind, with a golden crown sat neatly atop braided pink hair, Technoblade glared down his adversary.

“Technoblade,” Nightmare hissed. His void-like eyes flashed red.

The Blood God didn’t seem flustered. Tommy might have thought he was relaxed if he didn’t spot the way the man clutched his axe, knuckled white.

“I don't know what name you go by,” Technoblade said,” but this is my domain. I do not allow another god to pass on without an invitation.”

“You are no god!” Nightmare shrieked. “You were not born of the Prime god, you do not hold that title! Do not keep me from my prey, mortal!”

“No god exists without people to believe in them,” Technoblade said coolly. “I was not born a god but the people of this world have called me so and it is what I have become. My immortality came not as a gift of my birth but as a curse of my name. I did not come to this world as the Blood God, but I was made into him by the wills of the people. I protect my domain as a god and you will not step foot in it. Now leave:”

Tommy was certain Nightmare wouldn’t leave. He would attack Technoblade, and then Tommy and Michael would be caught within the battle between two immortal beings. But Nightmare didn’t attack. He stood back, glaring at Technoblade before shifting his eyes to Tommy.

“The moment you leave his protection, your story ends,” he threatened.

Technoblade swung his axe, stepping forward threateningly. “I will not tell you again. Leave.”

And Nightmare was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

It was all a blur after that. He saw things in flashes.

Tommy clung to Michael, holding him close to his chest. Then they were being lifted off the ground, clutched to a warm chest in strong arms. Snow fell softly on his face, cold and sweet. Light washed over them and warmth seeped into Tommy’s veins. Michael cried softly in his arms. They were set on something soft.

Something warm was poured onto his lips and vaguely Tommy felt his wounds closing. A warm blanket was draped over them. With soft, monotone words assuring him that they were safe now, Tommy allowed himself to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

The deep aroma of tea was what Tommy woke up to. It was rich and strong, wiggling its way through his nose to his heart, making his mouth water and fingers twitch.

Tommy opened his eyes. He was warm, snuggled underneath a red cape, a fireplace burning at his feet. White walls with dark spruce support beams rose above him, reflecting the soft light of the flames. The soft pillows his head rested on were like clouds, enveloping him in their grip.

For the first time in months he felt well rested.

Then the memories from the previous night flooded his head. He glanced down to where Michael had last been, held tightly against his chest. His arms were empty.

Tommy leapt into a sitting position and looked around, fear clutching his heart, but it calmed down when he spotted small ears poking above the dining room table carrying and setting down forks and knives.

Technoblade worked calmly in the kitchen, pouring steaming tea into three mugs, one considerably smaller than two.

He glanced at Tommy on the couch. “If you ever leave me to babysit again, I’m leaving you in the snow.”

Despite the uncertain relationship between them with the betrayal and sudden appearance the night before, a smile broke onto Tommy’s face.

Technoblade didn’t return the smile.

“T-mee!” Michael shrieked his attempt at Tommy’s name. It sounded more like Tah-me, but it was an effort. The utensils were long forgotten as the child raced to Tommy on his small feet and leaped into his arms.

Tommy squeezed him, closing his eyes and taking in Michael’s familiar scent. It was horrible - they hadn’t bathed in more than a week - but it was Michael.

“Hey, man,” he greeted, grinning down at his little friend in his arms. “How have you been? Been helping Techno, I see? Good job.”

Michael beamed at the praise. He wore a woolen shirt, soft to the touch. The bumblebee shirt Tommy had found him in was tucked safe at the bottom of his bag. It was Michael’s favorite, so he didn’t want it to rip on the way back. The gold necklace hung from his neck.

Tommy held him for a moment longer and Michael threw his hands around his neck, then he let go and pushed himself to his feet. “Let’s go help the Blade, shall we?” He immediately cringed at the name, remembering how Technoblade hadn’t liked being called that. They met eyes. “Sorry,” Tommy said.

Michael was ecstatic to go help his hero. Tommy’s plan about introducing the tales of Technoblade as bed time stories and to pass the time had worked and very quickly Michael had found himself almost worshipping the Blood God. Tommy had entertained his adoration with more stories and retellings. Michael had never grown tired of hearing them.

Now Technoblade was trying to move through his kitchen to set down breakfast at the table, but kept having to evade Michael as he ran around the hybrid’s feet, staring up in wonder. Michael’s head reached the halfway point of Technoblade’s thigh. He grabbed on with stubby fingers and clung to his leg as he walked.

Technoblade froze, staring at Michael. Something in his eyes shifted, so small Tommy might have imagined it. It disappeared as fast as it came and Technoblade moved a steeled stare to him. “Get it off me.”

Tommy leaned against the wall and smiled. “He loves you,” he said. “You’re his hero.”

Technoblade huffed and looked down at Michael. He shook his leg. Michael clung on. Techno glanced at Tommy. “How do I remove it?”

A part of Tommy wanted to stand by and watch the piglin hybrid struggle. But Techno had taken them in despite the rocky past between them. It had been a stretch to come here with the risk they might be turned away. Technoblade had done them a huge favor. The least he could do was not act stupid.

“Come on, Michael,” he said, stepping forward and lifting Michael into his arms. “Let’s help get the table ready.”

The uncomfortable silence that settled over the table once they were ready and sat down didn’t seem to bother Michael. He pointed to different things around the room with wonder, such as plates and mugs, paintings and books, rugs and chests. It was as if he had never seen things like them ever before.

Tommy let him talk. He’d found himself so used to the babbling that it would be wrong to be without it. And he wasn’t going to take the joy Michael found in it away.

Technoblade reached over and offered sugar for the tea. Tommy declined it.

“Right choice,” Techno said and placed the sugar down. He didn’t elaborate.

Silence fell between them again, making Tommy’s skin crawl.

Technoblade sipped his tea with no readable expression. It was total bullshit. If there was anything Tommy had learned in his time here, it was the under the threatening nature, Technoblade was awkward. He was as uncomfortable as Tommy.

Michael pulled on Tommy’s sleeve. Pointing to one of the trapdoor windows, he oinked in question.

“They’re trapdoors,” Tommy supplied.

“Twap-pores?” Michael asked.

“Almost, Big Man. Trap,” he said, popping the ‘p’ and pronouncing the ‘r’. “Door.” He put an extra emphasis on the ‘d’ and ‘r’. Michael made an attempt. It was, if possible, worse than the previous one. “You’re getting there, M. Practise a little more and you’ll get it.”

While Michael busied himself with the new word, Tommy turned to Techno.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about the trapdoors,” he said. “Why not normal windows?”

Techno shrugged. “Phil has a hard time seeing glass. It’s better for him when he visits.”

“But there’s glass in the trapdoors.”

Technoblade looked almost bored. “I’ve still got to see through my windows without them being open. If they were fully oak, they’d be quite counterproductive, wouldn’t they?”

Tommy hummed and mixed his tea. “I wanted to thank you for what you did with Nightmare, protecting us from him and taking us in.”

A pause.

“I saved you once before,” Techno said. “It didn’t stop you from betraying me.”

Tommy glanced at Michael who still sat oblivious. He turned back and bit his lip. “Can we talk about this later? Properly? After I settle Michael for a nap? I’d like to talk then, if that’s alright with you?”

Technoblade eyed him for a moment before nodding slightly.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy moved to Michael and helped mix some porridge for him. His own stomach growled as he worked and Michael squealed at it, placing his hands on Tommy’s abdomen and giggling when it rumbled.

Michael fell in love with the porridge, shoveling jams onto it and chugging it down before it was properly cooled down. At some point Techno stood from the table and moved to do something. Tommy paid him no mind.

When Michael was happily settled by his food, Tommy found his way back to his seat.

Technoblade returned. Wordlessly, he placed a plate of porridge in front of Tommy, measured with the right amount of honey and jam. The amounts he had recited one day during his stay after exile. Before Doomsday. When they were still friends.

Tommy’s heart swelled and shattered simultaneously. He sent Techno a thankful smile, which the hybrid opted to ignore. His eyes were glued to Michael for a moment before darting away.

Tommy raised a brow at the interaction. Did Techno have a soft spot for Michael? Despite his almost apathetic demeanor, Technoblade had emotions, Tommy knew. Was love one of them?

Maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise. It would take a miracle for someone not to love Michael. Spend enough time with him and he’d worm his way into your heart.

Maybe Technoblade was now infected with the horrible Michael-disease. Tommy chuckled at the thought.

They cleaned the table up when they were finished. Tommy made sure from Techno it was safe to go outside before helping Michael dress and leading him out into the snow.

They rolled in the cold, laughing and building snowcastles. Technoblade stood on his porch, watching without an expression. That was, until, a snowball hit him in the center of the forehead, knocking his crown to the side.

Tommy froze and stared horrified at Michael who oinked excitedly at the perfect hit. A part of Tommy was proud of the kid’s accuracy. The other part was now worried for his life.

Technoblade wiped the snow off his face slowly and fixed his crown. Menacing steps took the stoic faced Blood god down the stairs toward them. He walked gracefully across the ice and through the mounds of snow and stopped before Michael.

Michael’s smile dropped and he oinked questioningly a moment before he was hauled into the air and thrust into a snowbank headfirst.

Tommy burst into laughter, hotting and doubling over clutching at his stomach. Michael struggled out of the snow, sputtering and glaring at his idol, unamused. A small smile pulled at Technoblade’s lips but he shook it off and stalked back to the house.

Their eyes met as they passed. In Techno’s eyes Tommy saw a rare splotch of fondness. Then it was gone and so was the Blade.

Tommy blinked as a snowball on his cheek. He turned to Michael who had shaken off the snow from his clothes. A piece of ice stuck out from his hood. Tommy grabbed snow and morphed it into a snowball.

“Oh, it is on,” he said and threw.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Big, tired eyes stared up at Tommy as he tucked Michael into Techno’s bed upstairs.

Gone were the soaked clothes from the hours spent in the snow, now drying by the fire downstairs. Instead Techno had lended one of his thicker shirts for use while their travel shirts were soaking. Michael had almost tripped several times on the way up the ladder because of the long hem reaching his feet.

“Stowy?” Michael asked and followed with some piglin Tommy couldn’t understand.

“A story?” Tommy made it sound like the most absurd request. Michael grinned and hid beneath the blankets. He squeaked. “Oh, alright. A short one.”

Tommy both dreaded and longed for what waited downstairs for him once Michael was asleep. He and Techno were going to have a conversation they should have had a long time ago.

Tommy turned back to Michael and ran a finger along his cheek. He told of a lady from space called Clara, her giant ship that resembled the shape of a moth with it’s different sections and stations. He told of the name painted onto its side, C.L.E.M.E.N.T.I.N.E, and how the name was an abbreviation of complicated words used in a distance space colony.

He told of her first adventures through space, the obstacles she had to overcome. Monsters and aliens and vortexes in the far reaches of the galaxy. Michael seemed enchanted by the tales, sometimes quietly repeating words when Tommy said them. Finally the story ended and Tommy, sitting on the edge of Michael's bed, stood up.

“If you go to sleep now, maybe I’ll tell you more tonight,” Tommy said. Michael burrowed himself under the covers without being told twice, sinking into the pillows.

After wishing him sweet dreams and placing a kiss on his forehead, Tommy descended the ladder, closing the trapdoor behind him.

He took a deep breath and moved to the dining room area where Technoblade sat, running a thumb across the rim of a second mug of tea that day.

“Hey,” Tommy greeted, pulling himself a chair.

“Tommy.” Technoblade’s glare at him was cool.

He didn’t know where to begin. There were so many things he wanted to talk to Technoblade about, to talk to someone of all the things he’d gone through. But there were more important things. “We haven’t talked since Doomsday, have we?”

“Is there a point you’re going for with this? I’m not interested in excuses or worthless words.”

Tommy sighed. “Look, Techno, I. . . I don’t regret the choice I made at the community house. I chose Tubbo and L’Manberg and I stand by that. But. . . even though it might have looked like it, it wasn’t an easy decision.”

Technoblade’s glare didn’t waver.

“You were my friend, Techno,” Tommy continued. “But so was Tubbo and the others. L’Manberg was my home. I had to make a choice. And I betrayed you. I’m sorry I did, I truly am. But I doubt if you had to choose between me, and Phil, Carl and your home. . . I doubt you would choose me over them.”

Techno lowered his eyes and nodded slightly after a moment. His voice was gruff. “Makes sense.”

“That being said. . . neither choice was right. Both involved betrayal. The choice I made just hurt the least amount of people.”

Silence hung in the room, suffocating. The sun had set early, disappearing behind the hill. The darkness outside made the light from the fire more vibrant, showering the room in an orange glow. Tommy turned to stare into the flames.

“I hurt you,” he said quietly and raised his eyes. “Which is why what you did for us means so much. You could have stepped in against Nightmare to protect your domain and left us there. You could have saved Michael and left me behind. I wouldn’t have blamed you. But you didn’t.”

Technoblade still stayed silent.

“I don’t need to know your reason for saving us. I just need you to know how grateful I am for what you did. Truly, Techno.” Their eyes met. “Thank you.”

They sat wordlessly once more. Then Technoblade cleared his throat, stood and picked up his mug off the table. “Right. Now, I think you need some sleep. By the looks of it you haven’t had enough of it. And taking care of the kid has got to be exhausting.”

It wasn’t an acceptance nor a dismissal of their conversation, but as Tommy obediently rose and settled on the sofa, pulling a blanket over himself, the air seemed to have released some tension. Techno muttered something about getting wood for the fire and walked out the door, letting in a gust of cold air. Tommy rested his head back on the pillows. Perhaps things weren’t as unfixable as Tommy had originally thought.

Chapter Text

Life at the cottage became easier after their quiet heart to heart. It seemed both Tommy and Techno had needed to figure things out between them and now that they had discussed a fraction of the things bothering them, the air had cleared.

One day turned to a week, spending their days in the snow and making use of whatever they could find around the house. Tommy found himself improvising games in the house, since Technoblade wasn’t exactly prepared to have a child in his home. But Tommy was used to making up things to pass time from their travels, so they found that the hours of the day passed quickly.

While Michael slept his naps, Tommy and Techno spent the time together, whether it be with small talk or sitting in silence, doing their own preferred things. It was comfortable.

Tommy and Michael the nights sleeping on the couch, wrapped in extra quilts. Michael, familiar with the way of sleeping, would burrow himself into Tommy’s side the way they had for the last few months. Tommy was glad he didn’t stop even when there was more space to spread out on. He would have felt empty without the warm body pressing up against his side.

Technoblade seemed to be growing used to having someone at the house. No doubt he had had Phil visiting him several times before, but Michael and Tommy were both kids and nowhere near as calm as Phil.

Tommy would often catch Technoblade peeking from the widows as they played in the snow. He had more than once motioned for the man to join, but was only rewarded a blank stare. But once in a while, Tommy would see Technoblade approach Michael and attempt a conversation or game. Any time Michael approached Technoblade, the hybrid’s ears would perk up and his eyes would widen. Tommy would pretend not to see and let the two have their moment.

It was during those soft and comfortable moments that it was often easy to forget how much trouble Michael could get into when he was left unsupervised. Once Tommy had busied himself to help with Technoblade in the kitchen, having left Michael in the living room to play with a toy fish he had carved the kid from a piece of firewood.

He hadn’t even heard the trapdoor open when Michael slipped outside, climbing onto the roof of the stables, giggling and running across the slippery slide of doom. The moment Tommy had realized Michael wasn’t in the house he had panicked, running outside shouting Michael’s name. Having an unhealthy amount of trust in his uncle, Michael had thrown himself off the roof into Tommy’s arms. It was safe to say he had been grounded - quite literally - for several days after that.

On their third day, Tommy had found Michael nibbling on a piece of bark of one of the pieces of firewood, happily ignoring the food that sat on the kitchen stove.

“Don’t eat that, it’s not edible,” Tommy exclaimed, taking the wood piece away. He paused. “Is it?” He brought the wood to his mouth and bit off a piece while Michael watched closely. He spit the wood out. “No, it’s not. Don’t eat that.”

Technoblade hadn’t stopped rubbing his eyes for five minutes after that and had immediately brewed some tea for himself, muttering something about them giving him a headache. Tommy had only grinned.

It was on the ninth day in the tundra that Tommy asked the question he had been afraid to ask before. Ever since they had started their journey from the mountain toward Technoblade’s, it had simmered at the back of his mind. Now was the time to speak it to the world.

“Technoblade,” he said one evening after settling Michael to bed. Technoblade turned around and regarded him. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

Immediately the tone shifted in the room. Techno’s expression became grim. “Alright.”

They settled in their normal place in the dining room. Tommy pulled at his fingers, a nervous habit of his that he’d never quite grown out of. Technoblade sensed his nervousness. “What’s wrong?”

“Techno, do you. . . do you know why I was exiled?”

Technoblade blinked. “Because you burned George’s house?”

“No. I was exiled after that, around eight months ago.” Technoblade shook his head. Tommy took a deep breath. “I was exiled from the SMP for murdering Michael.”

A beat passed. Technoblade glanced at Michael’s sleeping figure on the sofa and pointed to it. “Isn’t that-”

“That’s Michael, the real one. I didn’t kill him. But no one in the SMP believed me. They didn’t give me a chance to defend myself and instead banished me and threatened to kill me if they so much as laid an eye on me again.” Tommy’s fists clenched and heat rose up his neck. He pushed the anger down.

Technoblade sat quietly as Tommy recounted everything that had happened since the day that he had been tasked to babysit Michael. He told of being imprisoned, the unjust court, being cast away into the wilderness by Sapnap, traveling to the mountain, coming across Nightmare and their journey back. Technoblade didn’t interrupt him once.

When he finally finished, they stared at each other for a moment. Technoblade evaluated him silently. “That explains the problem with the god,” he finally said.

The almost nonchalant response made Tommy laugh, but he quickly lost his smile. “That’s why we headed here. You’re the only one who could protect us. I know Foolish is a god as well, but he’s one of the people who exiled me. He wouldn’t have protected me. So we came to you.

“You’ve done so much for us already. But I need to ask you for one more thing. You’re allowed to refuse. I won’t hold it against you.” Tommy paused. Techno raised a brow. Why was it so hard to ask? Was he afraid Techno would get mad? Was he scared of what would happen if he agreed? “Techno, will you take Michael back to the SMP?”

Technoblade stared at him. “What?”

“Will you take Michael back home for me?”

“You’re going back aren’t y-”

Tommy shook his head and lowered his eyes. His chest burned. When he spoke, his voice threatened to break. “I’m not going back to the people who were so quick to call me a murderer and send me away. I’m not going back to the SMP. If you won’t take him I’ll leave him by the border and make sure they find him. But I won’t go back.”

Technoblade leaned back in his chair. “Why do you think I would be the better one to do it? The Butcher Army tried to kill me, do I need to remind you of that? Even without that, I’m not on exactly good terms with the SMP.”

“I have a target on my back. The minute I step foot into the SMP or one of them sees me, they’ll kill me. I doubt they’d stop for enough time for me to explain things nor would they believe me.”

“And they would believe me? Or refrain from killing me?”

“Let’s put it this way. You wouldn’t gain anything from going there and lying. You’d risk yourself, which is why I wasn’t sure whether to ask this or not. But they’d know that you would have no reason to come to the SMP with a fake Michael. What would you get from it? My alliance? We’re two people against tens of them. It wouldn’t be worth it. They might listen to you.” Tommy bit his lip. “And maybe if you brought him back you might heal some of the relationships you had. Maybe they wouldn’t hate you as much and you’d live in peace.”

“We don’t love each other, sure, but I’m already at peace with the SMP.”

“You might be able to move on from the things that happened.”

They sat in silence. Techno sat, arms crossed thinking. Tiny ticked on.

Finally he answered. “No.”

Tommy’s shoulders hunched but he quickly straightened again. It was Technoblade’s decision and he respected it. “Alright. That’s okay, I don’t blame you. You’ve done enough for us as it is.”

Techno eyed him. “You’re not mad? You’re not going to grief my chests when I sleep because of this, are you?”

Tommy smiled gently. “Well, if you insist. But no, really. It’s alright, Techno. I respect your decision. I just had to ask.”

Soft feet saved him from the uncomfortable silence that was bound to follow the conversation. Tommy glanced down as Michael approached, rubbing his eyes, holding a small plush toy Tommy had sewn him from some cloth he’d found in one of Techno’s chests.

“Hey, Big M,” Tommy said, running his hand across the top of Michael’s head. Michael took his hand and held onto his fingers, eyes bleary with sleep. He oinked and sniffed. “You wanna go to sleep, M? You want me to come with you?”

Michael nodded and gave his arm a gentle tug. Tommy pushed his chair back. He met Technoblade’s eyes and gave a smile he hoped showed that he truly didn’t hold anything against Techno for his decision. Then he let Michael drag him over to the couch and they settled in to sleep.

The kid's body was warm against his side and his small snores made his heart melt. It helped a little with the restriction of his lungs now that he knew what awaited in the future.

But what if something went wrong when he was taking Michael home? What if someone saw him and decided to kill him before he could explain what was going on, before he could show that Michael was alive? What if Michael was caught in the crossfire?

How far was too far to leave him from the border, too far for anyone to find him in time to protect him from monsters or the cold of the night? Where was too close? What if they didn’t believe that it was Michael? Would they hurt him? Kill him?

There were so many questions, so many worries. But he had to get Michael home. He deserved to be with his parents, to live a life away from the struggles of the wild, in a home where he would be safe. Tommy had to get him home. It just wasn’t going to be easy.

Not to mention he wasn’t sure how he was going to get to the SMP without Nightmare attacking. Technoblade was the only one keeping them safe, the only one capable and willing to help them. And though he wasn’t going to take Michael himself, maybe he would join them on the journey to protect them? Tommy would have to ask that. But he would take his time. There was no sense in pressuring all the questions onto Technoblade.

He ran his fingers across Michael’s ears, staring at the ceiling beams above. Technoblade moved around in the kitchen for a few more minutes before retreating to his bedroom upstairs. The house fell silent.

Everything would work out in the end. Tommy would only have to keep repeating that mantra. Maybe it would come true.

He glanced down at Michael and his eyes burned. After spending months together, after so much pain and misery on their travels, he was going to have to say goodbye to Michael. Would he understand it? Would he feel betrayed that Tommy was leaving him all alone? He had to remember the people from the SMP, right? He hadn’t been too young when Nightmare had taken him, he would remember the others. But how difficult would it be for him to get used to everything again? Would he miss Tommy?

What was he thinking? Of course Michael would miss him. And he would miss Michael, more than anything in the world. But it had to be done. He had known it from the beginning of his journey, he had dreaded it for months. Their time together was soon coming to an end.

“I love you, Big M,” he whispered into Michael’s ear. The kid pressed tighter against his side, gripping his shirt, but didn’t wake up. “I will always love you, no matter how far away I am. No matter what. Never forget that.”

He shifted the quilts around them and rested his head back. There would be no sleep for him tonight. With only the shadows from the fire keeping him company, he let his mind wander through all his worries. Maybe tomorrow would bring new light to their situation.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Tommy sat on the stairs leading up to the door as Michael rolled around in the snow. It was several days after his conversation with Techno and his plan on getting Michael home had barely progressed, but for the moment he had pushed it to the back of his mind. He would spend as much time with Michael as he could. No matter how much he wanted to get Michael back to his family, he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

“Swing your arms and legs to the sides,” he instructed with a smile. He pulled his mittens tighter around his hands. “Spread them out! Now move them! Yeah! There you go, you got it! Great! Now look at what you did. It’s a snow angel!”

Michael stared at the impression in the snow for a moment before jumping on it and kicking his legs around, effectively destroying his creation.

“No! What’d you do that for,” Tommy whined, walking over to the now demolished angel. Michael grinned at him proudly, kicking the snow one more time.

“He’s learning well,” Technoblade interjected from the window. He was leaning out, hair pulled back in a messy bun, reading glasses mounted on his nose.

“You told him to destroy his creations?”

“I told him to kick whoever he didn’t like.”

“Techno!” Tommy rolled his eyes and turned back to Michael. “Let’s make some new angels, and let’s not destroy them, okay?”

Michael glowered and grumbled at the suggestion. Tommy turned back to the house. “You’ve ruined him, Techno!”

Techno chuckled before retreating back into the house, closing the trapdoor to keep warmth inside.

They continued their games until dusk fell, piling snow into piles to create barriers, throwing snowballs at each other. If Tommy missed most of his throws and stumbled into the majority of Michael’s, no one had to know. They were having fun after all.

Then Michael sneezed.

Tommy stopped in his tracks and was rewarded by a snowball in the chest. But he merely brushed it off and moved to pick Michael up. “You aren’t sick are you?” He pressed a hand to Michael’s forehead. It was warm, as piglins tended to be, but he was too hot. Tommy furrowed his brow. “Shit, you are. Let’s get you inside.”

Michael didn’t agree with the game stopping so suddenly, kicking and pushing Tommy away, but he didn’t relent. They walked to the house and banged their shoes on the ground before coming in. Tommy helped Michael out of his jacket and outdoor pants, then told him to go to the couch while he got some quilts. Michael stomped his foot and crossed his arms, refusing to move. Tommy hoisted him under his arm and carried him over, thrashing limbs and all.

Techno glanced up from his book from his seat by the fire. “What did you do?”

Tommy glared at him. “I didn’t do anything. Michael decided to catch a cold.”

“Did he have all his clothes on?”

“Of course he did. I wouldn't have let him out if he didn’t. But it’s alright, these things happen. He got a cold a few times on our way here. I’ll wrap him in some quilts for a day and he’ll be fine. He’ll act like a bitch and be cranky for a bit, but it’ll pass.”

Techno raised a brow and returned to reading his book. But as Tommy made Michael lay down he spotted Techno glancing up once or twice to make sure Michael was fine.

Michael wouldn’t sit still. He didn’t seem happy about having to come inside after such a fun time outside in the snow. Tommy would take five steps away to find some quilts and Michael would be on his feet, preparing to throw a tantrum.

Finally he gave up. “Techno, could you help?”

Techno glanced up. “You or Michael?”

“Oh, piss off. Please?”

Techno didn’t give an answer, but he rose and moved to the couch to watch Michael. Tommy muttered a thank you and descended down the ladder to the chest room to find more quilts. He had to search through a couple of chests before he found them buried under old weapons and armor.

Throwing them over his shoulder he climbed back up. He froze once his head was above the floor.

Technoblade sat in the corner of the couch, eyes roaming the text of his book, mouth moving as he quietly spoke the words. Huddled against his chest was Michael, staring intently at the book, ears twitching now and then at the sound of Technoblade’s voice.

It was domestic, gentle. Tommy’s heart melted and he pushed himself from the ladder.

A heartbeat. All it took was a heartbeat.

A heartbeat for Tommy to make it to his feet. A heartbeat for the window on his left to shatter, sending shards of glass and wood flying through the air. A heartbeat for the dark shape to burst into the room. A heartbeat for Nightmare to sink his claws into Tommy’s stomach.

The quilts fell from his hands as he was thrown against the back wall. Technoblade shot to his feet, ripping his glasses off and grabbing his sword. Michael screamed, curling up.

Tommy stared into Nightmare’s dark eyes as the claws raked the wall through his abdomen, gasping as the wound burned. His lungs constricted and eyes stung. Nightmare’s grin shifted from human to creature, fangs replacing normal teeth, freakish and terrifying.

He leaned in close. “Did you truly think that you would be safe, hiding behind the protection of a phony god?” The claws shifted. Tommy cried out, hands scrambling for a weapon, anything, but came back empty. The claws sunk deeper, shredding flesh. Blood pooled from the wound, dripping down his front. “You are more foolish than I was led to believe.”

Suddenly Nightmare wrenched his claws out with a spurt of blood and leapt to the side. Technoblade stood behind him, mid sword thrust. He quickly turned the blade as Nightmare dodged and it sank beside Tommy’s head, barely avoiding cutting him. Techno didn’t stop, pulling it out and swinging it around.

Nightmare glared at him, conjuring his own sword and blocking the strike with it. “Do not challenge me, pig,” he taunted.

Technoblade’s eyes flashed red and he attacked again. Tommy had seen him fight before, seen the merciless swings of his sword. But never before had he seen Technoblade as savage as now. He was nothing but a blur, his weapon an extension of himself, slashing and cutting.

Leaning back his head against the wall, Tommy coughed, blood splattering on his lips. He pressed his hand onto the wound, hot liquid dripping through his fingers. The cold ache that had consumed his body was thawing, replaced by boil in his gut.

His eyes, blurring quickly, shot to Michael, shrieking at the end of the couch as he watched the battle unfold. Chairs were being thrown out of the way, darkness spilled off Nightmare’s body into the corners, threatening to blow out the fire in the fireplace.

“Michael!” Tommy yelled, reaching his arm out. Michael jumped off the couch and sprinted to him, leaping into his arms. Tommy couldn’t stop the cry that left his mouth as pain flared across his wound. Michael clutched to his chest, sobbing.

“T-mee!” he cried.

“Michael, listen to me,” Tommy panted. He pulled Michael’s hands off and held him tightly, flinching as Technoblade and Nightmare continued to fight. “Michael, you need to hide. Go down the ladder, through two trapdoors. Go into the back corner and do not come out until one of us gets you.” Michael shook his head but Tommy held him tighter. “Michael! Do as I say.” He pulled the piglin into an embrace and placed a kiss on his head. “I love you, little man. So fucking much. So I need you to do this for me. Go.”

The kid was still sobbing hysterically, but he wiped his eyes and sniffed, then ran to the trapdoor and threw it open. Tommy watched, a sob building up in his chest, as he disappeared down the ladder.

Michael was safe. He was going to be okay.

But he wasn’t sure for himself. Blood soaked his shirt and pants, spilling to the ground around him. The world was losing color and the clanging of weapons was growing distant and echoed.

He wanted to help Technoblade, but he could barely lift himself up, much less swing a sword. Not to mention that none of his weapons would do any good. He glanced at the battle.

Technoblade parried an attack and kicked Nightmare. Instead of passing through, his leg connected, sending Nightmare reeling back. His sword followed close behind, swiping for the god’s head, but Nightmare ducked under it, slashing out his talons. Techno danced away from their reach.

There were several places on Nightmare’s body where smoke looked to be pouring out unnaturally. Were they wounds, or was Tommy’s vision blurring? Was the room darker or was he losing consciousness?

“I warned you, Nightmare,” Technoblade growled. He grabbed an axe from beside one of his chests. “I told you to stay away.”

“You are no god that I accept!” Nightmare screeched. “You do not command me!”

Nightmare surged forward in a mass of black. One hand held his sword, the other slashed forward with claws, dripping with red with Tommy’s blood. Technoblade ducked below the sword and intercepted the claws with the hilt of his axe. Nightmare grabbed the wood and ripped it out of Technoblade’s grasp. Techno used the opportunity to punch Nightmare, who hissed as the fist connected. Techno picked his fallen weapon.

Tommy’s body was growing numb. He could no longer feel his legs, but the sear in his stomach only continued to grow. His eyes slipped from the fight and to the trapdoor Michael had disappeared down. He couldn’t let Nightmare get to him. He had to protect Michael.

Pushing himself from the wall, Tommy fell to his forearms. His legs dragged uselessly behind him as he crawled over to the trapdoor and lay across it. No one would get through. The soft drip of blood threatened to lull him to sleep. He rested his head across the floor.

What if he took a nap, just for a moment? No. Not before he knew Michael was safe. Not before Nightmare was gone.

The flapping of wings reached his ears. Raising his eyes, Tommy watched in horror as dark shapes intruded the room, flying in through the windows, and crashing through the door, knocking it off its hinges. Nightmares flooded the air, swooping down to swipe at him and Technoblade.

Raising his arms, Tommy covered his face. A nightmare latched onto his arm, grabbing it and wrenching up. Sharp nails dug into his skin, ripping his skin open. Another nightmare sunk its teeth into his shoulder.

Tommy bit his lip and ripped the nightmare’s off, pushing them off him. He reached behind and grabbed the first thing he could find. His hand landed on a brewing stand on the floor. He sunk the blaze rod into the neck of a nightmare and swung the bottom, hitting one in the head. They both disappeared in clouds of smoke.

Two nightmares attacked Technoblade from behind, latching onto his skin, clawing at his muscles. For a moment he was caught off guard, distracted. Nightmare used the moment to slash his sword at Techno’s neck. Techno avoided most of it but the tip of the blade cut into his throat, leaving behind a bloody scrape.

Techno paid no mind to it, twirling around to fight off the nightmares as more flew in from the windows to join the assault. Tommy could barely see him through the flapping of black winds.

Free from his opponent, Nightmare turned to Tommy. His black eyes stared into Tommy’s soul as he approached, dragging his sword across the ground, head tilted.

It was as if Tommy was prey, unable to move or protect himself, watching as the hunter approached. He was helpless, trapped. Wounded. Dying.

“You made a mistake trying to run away,” Nightmare said, nearing. “I’m a god, Tommy. You were foolish trying to evade me.”

“Fuck off,” Tommy gasped, blood pulsing against his fingers, pressed against the wound again. The ground below him was sticky. The world spun around him. Nightmare came to a stop only a foot away. Tommy swung the brewing stand, but Nightmare hit it away with the edge of his sword and it clattered to the ground too far away to reach.

Technoblade fought the nightmares on the other side of the house, swinging his sword and axe in wide arcs. Several cuts littered his body from what Tommy could make out. He was fighting his own battle, he wouldn’t be able to get to Tommy in time.

Nightmare shoved his foot to Tommy’s chest and pressed him to the ground. Tommy coughed as his lungs constricted and blood threatened to fill his airways. He tried pushing Nightmare’s foot off, but his arms were useless, weak.

A sword pressed to his chest, tip digging into the skin. He stilled his breathing, staring up into the merciless eyes of Nightmare.

“You played the game,” Nightmare said quietly. “But you weren’t meant to win.” A crooked smile broke onto his lips. “Or perhaps a more fitting phrase: It was never meant to be.”

Nightmare brought the blade down. Desperately Tommy ripped himself to the side. He was too slow. The sword sunk into his chest.

The world stilled. Tommy gasped for air, unable to pull any into his lungs. The sword twisted, carving into his flesh. It hurt. Oh Prime, it hurt.

But no sound came out of him. No scream, not a whimper. He could no longer keep his head up and it fell to the ground. The world grew dark. This was it. This was the end. He had played Nightmare’s game and he had lost.

Then Nightmare jolted. His eyes went wide, body seizing up. Slowly, he turned around to face Technoblade, revealing the axe buried deep in his back. Technoblade, covered in wounds, wasted no moment swinging his sword. Tommy watched Nightmare’s eyes widen, body flinching to stop the blade before it connected. But he was too late. While he had focused on Tommy, his pawn, he had missed his opponent approaching. It was a mistake that lost him the game.

Nightmare’s head rolled off his shoulders, plummeting to the floor like a rock. As it collided, his body exploded in a mass of smoke, pushing Technoblade back a couple paces. It flashed across Tommy’s vision. He could barely tell the difference with what he already saw.

His body was hot. There was something warm trickling down his sides. His shirt was sticky and clung to his chest. His chest burned where a sword had been only moments ago. Had it turned to smoke like the rest of the world had?

Someone fell to their knees beside him. The world spun, clearing as the smoke dissolved. A tusked face stared down at him, brows furrowed.

“Technoblade,” Tommy whispered. “Tech. . .”

Strong but gentle arms lifted him up. He was limp, his muscles wouldn’t work. It was wrong. Why couldn’t he move? Why did it hurt so much? Why was he growing cold? He had been hot only moments ago.

A face flashed into his mind, a small face with big eyes, a smile that brightened up even his darkening vision.

“Michael,” he whispered, gasping in a breath. Something warm rose in his throat, causing him to gag. Gentle hands guided his head to the side and warm, coppery liquid spilled through his lips. Coughing sent lightning shooting up his back.

“Where is he?” a quiet voice asked from above.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. Where was Michael? His mind supplied an image of a shaking form descending the ladder. “Down,” he whispered. His head rolled back against a strong chest. “Safe.”

“Good.”

Tommy opened his eyes. The face above him was blurred. A lump rose in Tommy’s throat. “Take him home, Techno,” he pleaded, chest aching with every word. “I can’t anymore. Please, Techno.”

A pause followed. Had Technoblade heard him? Had he even spoken?

Techno sighed. “I will. I’ll get him there.”

Tommy smiled, then gave into a fit of coughs. Michael would be safe. He would get home. But there was only one reason Techno would agree to it.

Tommy wasn’t going to live to do it himself.

His heart burned. He couldn’t tell if it was from the wound or the heartbreak. He wouldn’t see Michael again. He wouldn’t see the sun again. He wouldn’t see anything ever again. He was going to die. And he was scared.

Tears sprung into his eyes. The hands holding him didn’t waver. “I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry about everything. Just please, please take care of him. Take care of Michael.”

“I will.”

“Please, Techno, take care-”

“Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes shot to Techno’s. “I’ll take care of him. It’s okay.” Technoblade's voice was the gentlest he had ever heard it “You can rest now. Michael will be fine.”

It seemed those words were the final reassurance his body needed. The world pressed in around the edges. His body grew cold, then it went numb. His eyes lowered and fell shut. It was going to be okay. Michael would be fine. It was going to be okay.

Chapter Text

Technoblade’s pov.

Techno saw the moment Tommy slipped away. He had seen death before, knew it better than the grip of his sword or the smell of blood. He knew the moment Tommy died, sagging in his arms, head lolling lifelessly. He knew the moment Tommy’s chest fell still, no longer rising and falling erratically. He knew the moment the tears that had gathered in his eyes spilled free and weren’t followed with new ones. He knew from the message that pinged through his communicator.

TommyInnit was gone.

Techno couldn’t bring himself to stand. He had built his cottage all on his own, hauling pieces of stone and trunks of trees from the forest and carrying them onto their foundations, setting them into their places. Yet still, Tommy’s body was the heaviest thing he had ever held.

Maybe it was the injustice of the situation in which he had lost his life. They had all lived the past few weeks in the lie that they were safe from Nightmare, that they could live in peace. That belief had turned out wrong, and they had paid the price for it.

Technoblade sighed, shifting the body in his arms. Tommy’s head lolled. His skin was still warm to the touch. It would soon grow cold and the warmth he had used when with Michael would soon be gone.

Michael. Techno had to get Michael.

He took a deep breath and rose. Tommy hung loose in his arms, small against Techno’s chest. He was just a child. A child that was now gone.

Static screamed in Techno’s head, thousands of voices screaming to overcome each other.

your fault
BLOOD
You killed him
blood for the blood god
deadinnit
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOOD
BLOOD
Yourfaultyourfaultyourfault

Years of living with the voices had made him mostly indifferent to their words. Mostly. Now the countless voices blaming him were knives in his chest, spades digging the pit in his gut deeper.

With steady steps he carried Tommy’s body to the couch, which was miraculously still standing. Tommy’s arm hung loose, dripping blood onto the floorboards, splattering the shards of glass and wood. Settling the kid on and shifting his limbs so that they were comfortably arranged on the cushion, he reached to the ground and took a quilt, draping it over Tommy’s corpse. His face remained emotionless. Technoblade opted for a similar expression.

His head pounded. His wounds stung. The promise he had made Tommy ran in his ears.

He had promised to take Michael home. He had refused only days ago, not wanting anything to do with the people who had tried to murder him when he was trying to practise peace, who fought him and tried to kill him multiple times. He didn’t want the conflict. But now, he couldn’t leave Michael alone. He couldn’t break his promise.

Maybe he should keep Michael, raise him as his own. Technoblade hadn’t had parents when he was young but it couldn’t be a good thing for a piglin to grow up without others of his kind around? Taking him to the SMP would only harm him, wouldn’t it?

He glanced at Tommy’s face, still and lifeless. Tommy had planned on taking him home despite not wanting to return. He loved Michael, Techno had seen it in his eyes every time he had looked at the kid. Tommy had loved Michael. If he had thought going back was harmful for him, he wouldn’t have planned on it.

Michael had to go back to his family. And Technoblade was going to take him.

But he couldn’t leave Tommy’s body here. It was his last canon life he had lost, and his body wouldn’t be respawning. Last deaths left behind a body. Bodies called for a burial. And Tommy deserved a proper funeral.

Techno trudged to the corner of the room and picked up the small toy that Tommy had sewn for Michael. He picked a few pieces of glass and splinters from the cloth, brushed it off, then tucked it under his arm. He hoisted a blanket onto his shoulder and moved to the trapdoor. He didn't look at the couch.

Sniffles rose from the second cellar through the trapdoor. Techno stopped in his chest room for a moment and picked a lantern up from the wall, then descended down the ladder. At the back of the room by the signs still hammered into the wall, curled up in the corner, was Michael.

Techno approached slowly, holding the lantern out. The light was bright against the darkness and sent Michael pressing himself against the wall. Techno set the lantern and quilt to the ground, horribly out of place facing the crying child.

“Stop crying,” he tried, talking gruffly. He winced, realizing his tone wouldn’t do much to help Michael. But it seemed he was wrong. Hearing his voice, Michael shot into his arms, clutching onto the shirt still soaked in Tommy’s blood. Techno quickly pried him off, swallowing at Michael’s now red hands and front. “Alright. You’re going to be okay, Michael. I need to do something, so you ‘gotta wait here for me.”

The piglin shook his head, making an effort to hug Techno again. Techno stood up and stepped back, frowning. The voices were howling in his head, some calling for blood, some shouting in the lines of Technosoft. They were feverish, pounding his head. It wasn’t safe for him to be with Michael in this state.

He moved quickly, wrapping Michael’s sobbing body in the quilt he had brought, making it tight around him. He stuffed the toy into the mess and Michael clutched it with large, tear filled eyes.

“I’ll be back,” Techno grumbled and climbed up the ladder. He ignored Michael’s wails and closed the trapdoor behind him.

The air was too still and silent when he climbed to the main floor again. Without looking at the heap on the couch, Techno rummaged through his chests, and pulled out a netherite shovel. Swallowing thickly as he passed Tommy once more, he pulled on his cloak and stepped out into the evening.

Cold brushed against his face, clawing at his skin in a way that had now become familiar, comforting in a way. His piglin side screamed for differ, but he ignored it.

Stars were blinking to existence, morbidly bright in the dark atmosphere that hung in the air.

Techno glanced around. Where would be the best place for a grave? He didn’t have long to look for a good place before he had to lay Tommy down. He wasn’t sure if nightmares would swoop in to attack them sometime soon for revenge for killing their creator. Nightmare himself would take several millennia to return to his full form, but that didn’t make his minions any less dangerous.

His movements were growing aggressive in the snow, white flew around in a flurry as he pushed on toward the edge of the forest. Anger bubbled within him, a hot fire that simmered underneath his skin. Snowflakes that had landed on him melted as the fury made his skin hot.

His head pounded, the voices growing louder.

They called for him to search the depths of the Nether and the world beyond it to find Nightmare, to kill him before he could regain strength. They called for death, they called for him to rip the god to pieces. He almost gave into the thought, almost marched to the portal to follow through.

But if he gave in to the voices, he wouldn't stop. He wouldn’t stop until he found what remained of Nightmare, until he realized that he couldn't destroy a god that no longer had a form tangible enough to kill. If he gave into the voices, he wouldn’t be able to stop and soon they would call for the blood of innocents.

If he gave into the voice, he might hurt Michael. He wouldn’t take Michael home. And that would mean breaking his promise.

So he focused on the cold pressing down on his sides, concentrated on the feel of the shovel in his hands and kept walking.

As it turned out, finding a perfect funeral site didn’t take him long. He hadn’t walked several meters into the forest before he remembered a small clearing he had noticed during his first weeks in the tundra, a mysterious area some ways into the woods that snow didn’t seem to reach.

A small, clear patch in the midst of pine trees where green grass flourished and small flowers bloomed from the ground. It was peculiar, standing out against the white of the world. It was wrong and yet so right at the same time. Like Tommy had been, he thought. Despite being wrong at times and making bad decisions, despite not fitting into the mold that people tried to force him into, Tommy had somehow been - in his own way - right.

The clearing was perfect. There would be time to make it better later, fix it to be the best it could be. It was the least Tommy deserved. But as of now, a simple grave would have to do.

He arrived fast. Shrugging off the snow from his cloak and stamping it off his boots, Techno stepped onto the clearing. The cold seemed to leave his limbs, replaced by the warm whisper of the silent night.

The clearing was barely five meters across and a near perfect circle. It was a mystery Techno didn’t know what to think about. Maybe Phil knew something about it, perhaps it had something to do with the goddess he was in love with. Maybe she had created this.

He hoped she wouldn’t be angered by him digging it up. It would be a rather sad way for him to die.

At the edge of the clearing, he set his shovel into the ground and stopped. Once he dug the first piece of land, it would truly set in that there was no going back, that this grave would be Tommy’s final resting place.

Why did he care so much? Tommy had betrayed him time and time again, used him and fought him. Why did he care?

Because he understood why Tommy had betrayed him. Understood why he had done it. Because he knew that Tommy wasn’t a bad person. Because he knew that Tommy hadn't deserved to die.

And he dug. He dug deep, dug until there was a mound of dirt on the side of the grave, threatening to cave in and bury him alive. Dug until the hole was big enough to fit a body, but small enough to remind him that he was burying a child.

Had he played a part in Tommy’s death? His own words rang in his ears from all those months ago, telling Tommy that if he wanted to be a hero, he should die like one. Tommy had. He had died protecting Michael, covering the trapdoor with his body to keep the nightmares and god away. He had died a hero, just as Techno had told him to.

Your fault
Die a hero
deadinnit
YOUR FAULT
BLOOD
buriedinnit
YOUR FAULT
graveinnit
Blood for the Blood God
One of us
BLOOD

“Shut up,” Techno grumbled, sinking his shovel into the dirt.

technomad
YOUR FAULT
He’s dead
Tommy is dead
BLOOD
BLOOD
YOUR FAULT

At last the grave was deep enough. He hauled himself out, sighing and staring at the hole. The moon was rising in the sky, shedding soft light into the clearing through the tops of the trees. It hit the snow around with a glimmer, giving the illusion that he was surrounded by silver.

Without a second glance, Techno set the shovel down and started his trudge back to the house. He had to get this done so that he could get Michael home.

The way back was easier than the way there with the path already cleared. His house looked cold and empty with its broken windows and door. He would have to wait to repair those.

The atmosphere in the room was suffocating. Techno knew it all too well. He knew the unconscious part of your mind that senses that a person is alive, the emptiness that blooms in your chest in the absence of it. The way that his skin crawled as he approached Tommy’s body, the numbness that spread in his limbs as he took in the shell of the boy he had known.

It looked like he was sleeping. A part of Techno wanted to wish that he was. But the cold pit in his gut knew that wasn’t the case.

Tommy’s skin would be growing cold. It had already paled considerably. Techno stared. It reminded him of the days that Tommy had spent here after exile, huddled under masses of quilts and cloaks, seated by the fire while he nibbled on Techno’s stores of golden apples. The days when everything had seemed to be going in a better direction. Where they might have been friends.

Many times he had watched Tommy fall asleep on the couch he now lay on. Never in a thousand years then would he have guessed the couch would one day hold his body.

He pulled the quilt down, ignoring the blood soaked shirt it revealed. His eyes strayed on Tommy’s neck, on which were two things. The compass he had explained had led them to Technoblade, pointing directly at him with its accusing needle. And tucked underneath the collar of his shirt, a green bandana.

The bandana belonged to Tubbo, Techno knew. Tommy had told him during his stay, after exile. So why hadn’t he gotten rid of the bandana when he clearly despised his ex-friend for what he had done? Had it been too hard for him to let go? It didn’t make sense. He was willing to leave the entire SMP behind, so why would the bandana be so important?

“Why did you care so much for objects that did you no good in life?” Techno whispered, brushing a finger over the bandana. Tommy stayed silent. Carefully, Techno reached over and pulled the compass from around his neck and placed it to the side. Tommy wouldn’t be needing it any longer. But the bandana he left to hand around Tommy’s neck. If there had been a reason for him to keep it there, that’s where it belonged.

As gently as possible, he gathered Tommy into his arms. The quilt started slipping off, revealing the gruesome aftermath of his injuries, but Techno pulled it back on. Tommy’s neck bent at an unnatural angle, head hanging loose over Techno’s arm. He fixed it carefully and stared at the mop of lifeless, blond hair. It had once shone like the gold rings that Techno kept on his fingers. Now it was dull and colorless.

He wanted it to be over with. Something about this death was tearing him apart from the inside.

Slow steps took him out the door, down the steps and into the snow. Light snowflakes fell down on them, settling onto the body in his arms, taking longer to melt than they did on Techno. He tried to notice. It wouldn't do him any good.

The clearing waited for them, welcoming them in with its green grass and flowers. Techno wove through the masses of petals to the edge of the grave. He glanced down at the corpse in his arms once more. There were so many things to say, yet none of them seemed right. He wasn’t one for sentimental speeches unless they were calling for someone’s death. Tommy was already dead. So he chose two simple words that still carried his emotions across. “Goodbye, Theseus.”

He kneeled and lowered Tommy into the grave. The wind whistled a sorrowful cry into the air around them, kicking up snow and twirling it around, then letting it settle. Techno stared into the grave. A pale, emotionless face stared back. Techno tucked the quilt around him, imagining that he was simply putting Tommy to sleep and before he could stop himself, brushed a stray lock of hair out of Tommy’s face.

“You can rest now, Tommy,” he said softly. “Be at peace.”

It never got easier knowing graves were faster to fill than they were to dig.

Chapter Text

Michael refused to leave the house without Tommy. He followed Techno to the main floor where he had done his best to clean up most of the blood and glass, throwing quilts over the stains that he couldn’t scrub off. The kid had waited patiently by the newly lit fire while Techno rummaged chests and gathered equipment for their journey. He had, however, not stopped asking for Tommy and started screaming the moment Techno tried to get him to leave.

“T-mee!” Michael shrieked, running behind the couch. Techno rubbed his eyes, blood pressure rising. The shrill screeches did no good for the headaches he already dealt with due to Chat. “T-mee!”

“He’s not here, Michael,” Techno growled. It had taken him some time to scrub his hands of blood well enough to feel safe to approach Michael. He didn’t need a reminder about what he’d had to do and he didn’t want the voices riled up for blood.

But Michael wasn’t listening. He clutched the plush toy to his chest, curling up against the back of the couch.

Techno sighed. What was he supposed to do? Tommy had always been the one to deal with Michael. He’d never seen the kid misbehaving like this. Was it because of the cold he’d caught? The healing potion Techno had handed him while he was waiting would have helped with that. Did the kid have separation issues? That would be a problem. He couldn't just tell Michael blatantly that Tommy was dead, could he? But how else was he supposed to explain Tommy’s sudden disappearance?

“Look, Michael,” Techno said, crouching behind the couch, leaving space between Michael and him. “Tommy isn’t here. He had to go away. You’re stuck with me now.”

Michael shrieked. Techno wanted to walk out the door and leave the kid to calm down on his own. Instead, he settled into a more comfortable position. How had Tommy calmed Michael down? Techno had heard him singing to Michael several times, but that wouldn’t work. Techno couldn't sing to save his own life, nor would he stoop that low if he could.

Not several hours ago Michael had been in his arms, listening while he read the Art of War. it had worked then. But he didn’t have time to dig the book from their pack or settle Michael down to listen. He would have to think of something else.

Digging deep into his memories, Techno swallowed. He was using desperate measures and hoped they would work.

”Michael," he said. Michael fell silent, eyes wide, staring at Techno. Why was he doing this? He hadn’t spoken piglin in years, he was probably pronouncing everything wrong. But it seemed to be working. “We’re going to go on a trip together. Just the two of us, okay? I’m going to take you home.”

“T-mee?” Michael asked.

Techno wasn’t sure if Michael was calling for Tommy again or if he was referring to Tommy as home. He wasn’t sure which one hurt more.

“He had to go away, Michael. So I’m going to take you.”

Michael bit his lip and pulled his plush toy to his chest. Tears welled in his eyes. Techno crept forward and pulled the compass he had taken from Tommy from his pocket. He set it around Michael’s neck, watching the arrow spin around to point back at him. He would let the compass lead to him just in case something went wrong and they were separated. He would change it back before they reached the SMP.

Michael’s nose twitched as he took in Tommy’s scent on the compass. It seemed to calm him and he stumbled into Techno’s arms, knocking his head against Techno’s shoulder, exhausted. Victory.

He did quick work dressing Michael in his warmer clothes for travel. It was alarming how hard of a time he had with dressing the child. He knew how to dress himself, surely a child should be easier. It wasn’t, as became clear. But finally Michael was all wrapped up and ready to go. He hadn’t let go of his toy once and he was constantly looking down at the compass.

Techno closed the doors behind them. He had done his best repairing them enough to suffice to keep unwanted visitors out of the house while he was gone. No one would dare come in whether it seemed that the house was empty, but he could never be too safe.

Carl stood in his stable and greeted them by throwing his head back. Techno ran a hand across his neck and across the white splotch that stood out of his brown snout. “Ready for a trip?”

He strapped the saddle onto Carl’s back and strapped in their bags. Michael made his way to the stables, stepping in Techno’s footsteps, jumping from one hole to the other. Techno led Carl out of the stables and lifted Michael into the saddle, climbing on behind him.

Michael stared at Carl in wonder, running his hands across his brown fur and fingering the black mane. It only then occurred to Techno that he had most likely never seen a horse before, or ridden one.

“Hold on tightly, Michael,” he said. “Don’t want you falling off.”

Michael oinked and leaned back against his chest. Techno shifted his cloak so that it was draped over Michael, burying him under the thick fur. The child burrowed his head into Techno’s stomach. Techno wrapped an arm around him to keep him secure, then twitched Carl’s reins to the direction of the SMP. A pit of dread opened in his stomach and he steeled his gaze. A promise was a promise.

In the dead of night, they set off to their final destination.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

The longer the trip dragged on, the more Techno dreaded the moment he would have to say goodbye to Michael. It was rare for him to care for someone, yet despite his apathetic persona, Michael was quickly wiggling his way into his heart. He’d already cracked through Techno’s thick shell during his time in the cottage, but he had now wormed through the crack into Techno’s heart.

He didn’t know how to entertain Michael with games, didn’t know how Tommy had managed to do it, so he would pass time reading his books out loud or telling stories from the past to Michael. The energetic child was all but gone during those moments, huddled close to Techno’s chest, ears perked up. But any time he stopped, Michael would grow restless, sometimes asking for Tommy, sometimes trying to wiggle off Carl's back. So any time the piglin baby was awake, Techno was stuck reciting stories and poems to him.

And he loved it. The only person he’d been able to do that to was Phil and his old friend hadn’t visited in some time. Off building his creations in other servers far away. Despite their similar interests and calm natures, Phil was a traveler. Techno wasn’t. For the first time in a long time, he had someone who listened to him.

The journey was good. They were both enjoying watching the scenery flash by, listening to Carl’s hoofs as they hit the ground in rapid succession. It was good. And then one night as they set camp so that Carl could rest, Michael started to cry.

Techno’s heart plummeted, glancing at Michael. “Why are you crying?” he asked, feeling completely out of place with the sobbing child.

Michael retreated to sit by the stump of a tree, holding his stuffed toy close to his chest, tears spilling down his cheeks. Snow ran from his nose and he pressed his face into the neck of the stuffed toy.

Techno turned away, ear twitching. What was he supposed to do?

Busying himself with Carl’s reins, he tried to ignore the dreadful sound. To cover the crying, he started whistling to himself, a familiar tune that Phil had taught him. And the sobs fell quiet, transforming into quiet sniffles. He stopped fiddling with the reins and turned around.

Michael stared at him with tear filled eyes, bottom lip wobbling. Silence stretched between them and Michael shuffled forward. Unsure if he was doing the right thing, Techno continued whistling. The child’s head tilted, ears perking up. He clutched the stuffed toy close to his chest.

Slowly, Michael rose and walked over to Techno, staring up at him. Techno resisted the urge to step back, unsure what to do. Then Michael lifted his arms, the notion clear. Out of his comfort zone, Techno pushed back the voices in his head and reached down, picking Michael up. The small piglin curled up against his chest, holding the hand of his stuffed toy, head falling into the nook of Techno's neck.

His heart melted, the ice that had formed around it washed away. He shifted his arms and let his shoulders relax. Michael continued sniffling but they quieted down considerably when he continued whistling.

He shouldn’t have done it, he should have just let Michael cry. Holding him was only going to make things more complicated, harder, when he had to give Michael up. He understood how Tommy had been so fond of the little guy, seeing as how he had forced his way into Techno’s heart as well.

He lowered himself against the stump and wrapped his cloak around them both. The cool evening chill of the air washed away. He continued whistling, watching closely as Michael’s head started drooping and small snores started from the folds of his cloak. Chat screamed in his head, their rising voices digging into his skull. And he ignored them, all his attention on the small bundle in his arms.

“I gave you no right to dig your way into my heart,” he whispered. “And you did so anyway.”

He let his chin rest on the top of Michael’s head. Carl nodded off several meters away, mane fluttering in the gentle wind of the forest. It was peaceful, silent and comfortable. If only he could stay here, like this. The looming goodbye pressed against the back of his mind and he shoved it back, holding Michael tighter. The time would come to say goodbye. But that moment was not now. So he would take the moment as it came and treasure it before it became a memory.

Chapter Text

Technoblade joined the game.

The message popped up in his communicator as he entered the SMP borders. Everyone’s communicators would ping as his had and they would without a doubt start preparing for a fight they were expecting to happen. They would be prepared to treat his presence with violence, as they always did.

He let the bitter thought simmer, his mind returning to Tommy’s body, hanging limp from his arms, the cause of an exile by these people. The rare times they didn’t treat problems with fists were the times they hurt people the most.

He had to tell them he came in peace. He couldn’t risk Michael being hurt by their irrational thinking.

Tapping in his communicator, he sent the message:I’m not here for a fight. I have something I want to return. I’m coming to Snowchester.

Michael shifted in his arms, waking up from his nap. The sun beat down on them from high in the sky, glistening off the white snow as they passed. This was the day he would have to part with Michael. If only he could rewind time and hold onto the moments they spent together.

The giant mansion of Snowchester appeared on the horizon, soon followed by the small gathering of houses. Smoke plumed from small chimneys poking over the top of the hills. Techno checked his sword and axe, making sure they were both on hand if things went wrong. He wasn’t here for a battle, but it might be what he was going to get.

They crossed the thick ice of the lake, Carl’s hooves sure-footed and strong, keeping them steady. Techno held Michael tighter. Michael sneezed, rubbing his nose against Techno’s cloak.

He glared. “You’re young but I’ll make you pay if I have snot on my cloak.”

The small piglin ignored him, shifting in his arms and craning his neck to see the land mass they were approaching. Immediately Michael’s ears perked up and he glanced up at Techno, pointing to Snowchester. “No-ster!”

“Exactly,” Techno said. He focused on the horizon, looking out for anyone waiting for him. The hills were empty. “Alright, Michael. We’re almost home.” The kid pulled the cloak around himself, hiding under the folds from the cold.

Carl trudged through the knee-deep snow, pushing forward without pause. Techno’s heart hammered, Chat screamed in his head, images of all the times he’d interacted with the SMP and things had gone wrong playing in his mind. He pursed his lips. A promise was a promise. He was going to follow through.

He pulled to a stop on the hill between the mansion and the village. In the snow before him stood two figures, one with his fists bunched tight and eyes ablaze, the other with his shoulders hunched and ears hanging down, picking his fingers. Ranboo and Tubbo waited as he approached.

“What do you want, Technoblade?” Tubbo snapped, gritting his teeth.

Techno sat on Carl’s back, unsure of what to say. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I’m here to return something you might want. Something that you lost a while ago.”

Ranboo wrapped an arm around Tubbo’s shoulders. “Techno, what-”

Michael shifted under the cloak and popped his head out. His eyes landed on his parents and before Techno could stop him, he was oinking excitedly, struggling off Carl’s back and jumping into the snow. It cushioned his fall but didn’t stop him as he raced toward Tubbo and Ranboo, standing shocked.

“Dada!” Michael yelled, a flurry of snow pluming behind him. Techno dropped to the ground. “Papa!”

Ranboo had gone pale, shoulders hitching up. Michael threw himself at them both, clutching their legs, then oinked pitifully as neither returned the embrace. He stared up at them. Tubbo refused to look down, hatred burning in his eyes as they locked with Techno’s.

“What sick joke is this, Blade?” he spat.

Techno took a breath. “I brought your son home, Tubbo. He hasn’t seen you in months, the least you can do is-”

“My son is dead!” Tubbo screamed. He pried Michael’s hands off and stepped away toward Techno. Ranboo pulled him back as Michael held onto his pant leg. His red and green eyes cast down, then flicked back up and he swallowed thickly. Tears gathered in his eyes. Tubbo fought against Ranboo’s grasp. “Techno, how dare you? How dare you come into my home, how dare you mock my grief, how dare you?”

“Techno, why?” Ranboo whispered. He looked defeated.

“Papa?” Michael whispered. He glanced back at Techno and he could see that the kid was worried about why his father wasn’t responding. “Papa!”

Tears streaked down Ranboo’s face.

“You don’t have to take my word for it,” Techno said. He looked at Tubbo. “Michael has a compass around his neck. You whisper a name to it and it points to that person. It’ll prove that I’m telling the truth. That is your son.”

Tubbo didn’t move, gripping the handle of his axe hanging off his belt. Ranboo sent Techno an expression he couldn’t place, then lowered down to Michael’s level. Michael threw himself at Ranboo but Ranboo steadied him, biting his lip. Gently he reached for the compass around Michael’s neck.

Michael reacted, screeching and stumbling away, clutching the compass. He gave a pitiful roar at Ranboo, glaring at him. Techno watched. Of course Michael would be protective of the compass. It was Tommy’s. The last thing he had left of him.

Ranboo put his hands out and held them for Michael. “I’ll give it back, okay?”

There was a pause. Then Michael crept forward and reached out for Ranboo’s hand. The size difference of their palms reminded Techno of when he had held Michael’s small body close to his. He was missing those times too soon.

Gently, Ranboo lifted the compass from Michael’s neck. Tubbo glanced back momentarily, before resuming his glaring. Their communicators pinged, most likely the others updating on their location. Techno didn’t glance at the messages. Tubbo didn’t either.

The compass sat in the center of Ranboo’s palm. Michael stared down at it, holding onto Ranboo’s other hand. It seemed Ranboo didn’t have the heart to let go, whether he believed Michael to be his son or not.

“Say someone’s name,” Techno instructed.

Ranboo glanced his way, then back at the compass. “Tubbo,” he said quietly. From the flickering gaze that moved to Tubbo, Techno guessed the compass had moved. Ranboo shifted the compass to his other hand, lip quivering. “Techno.” The compass moved again.

The air around them was tense. Techno watched Ranboo’s eyes return to Michael. He barely heard the whisper.

“Michael.”

The compass spun. Ranboo clasped his hand over his mouth, breaking down into tears and scooped Michael into his arms, sobbing. Tubbo spun around, eyes wide. Ranboo cried, running his hands across Michael’s head and back, holding him tightly. Burning tears raced down his cheeks in rivers of smoke, and his gasping breaths retched his chest.

Michael clung to Ranboo’s chest, arms around his neck, oinking excitedly, trembling with happiness. He burrowed his head into the folds of Ranboo’s suit, stubby hands grasping at the fabric.

“Ranboo. . .” Tubbo whispered, breath catching.

The two met eyes. “It’s him, Tubbo,” Ranboo said, closing his eyes and holding Michael tighter. “It’s our boy.”

The walls broke. Tubbo collapsed to his knees, pulling Michael and Ranboo into his arms, running his hand across the back of Michael’s head, whispering words Techno couldn’t hear. His shoulders shook violently as he pulled his son close, not even making an effort to hold back the sobs.

Figures appeared on the hill, the other members of the SMP. Techno watched from the side as they came to a stop, weapons bared, before they spotted the _Beloveds on the ground, sobbing in each other's arms.

“What the Hell is happening?” Jack demanded, brandishing his sword and Techno.

Techno fought back the urge to grab his own weapons. The voices called for blood, scraping the insides of his head with their poisonous words, slipping into his thoughts like a swarm of snakes, poisoning his mind.

“I told you I’m not here to fight,” he said, his internal struggle hidden behind his steady voice.

“Yeah, righ!” Fundy butted in, tail bushing up in a vibrant show of orange. “Why should we trust you? After everything you did to L’Manberg, to us, why shouldn’t we kill you now?”

Techno pushed down the rage that bubbled to the surface as he watched them stand by. They had exiled Tommy for a crime he didn’t commit, hadn’t given him a proper trial where he could defend himself, they were the reason a grave now stood in the woods behind his house. They saw him as the monster when in fact they were the worse ones of them all.

“For Prime’s sake, everyone stop!” Tubbo yelled. Everyone turned his way and fell silent. The boy’s eyes were on Techno, glistening with tears. In his arms, snuggled tightly was Michael. The others seemed to notice the piglin for the first time, letting out sounds of surprise. Tubbo ignored them all. “Techno, how. . . how is this possible.”

“It was Tommy.” The name sent hisses through the crowd and Techno’s blood boiled. Carl nudged against his chest, a calming gesture that helped him grip his emotions. “Tommy saved him and sought safety in my home.”

“Safety? What, safety from himself?” Jack barked. “Didn’t want to kill anyone else?”

Techno grasped his axe and glared in Jack’s direction. The man took a step back, paling. “Safety from the god who kidnapped Michael in the first place!” He glared at them all. “You once called yourselves his friends, yet you exiled him without a proper trial, casting him out into his worst nightmare! You accused him of a murder he didn’t commit.”

“But there was evidence-” Tubbo whispered, face paling.

Techno turned to him. “Evidence planted by the person responsible. You were his best friend, Tubbo. Did you really think that killing Michael was something Tommy would have done?”

The SMP was silent. Tubbo’s mouth opened and closed, speechless. Michael’s ears dropped, startled by the sudden rise of voices and he pressed securely against Tubbo’s chest.

“Michael’s alive, which means we exiled him for something he didn’t do,” Ranboo whispered, horrified. “We need to find him, bring him back, we need to apologize-”

“You can’t.” Everyone turned to him. Techno’s chest burned. He blinked. The image of Tommy’s body was ingrained into his eyelids, haunting him for the split second before he opened his eyes. The phantom feeling of Tommy’s blood on his hands returned. His fingernails dug into his palms. He was far from understanding why he cared so much for the boy who betrayed him, but he wasn’t going to push his anger down.

“Why not?” Foolish asked, stepping forward. “Surely if he came to your home, you would know where he is-”

“Tommy is dead.”

You could hear a drop of blood hit the ground in the silence that followed. Without the gentle snowflakes drifting to the ground, Techno might have thought the world had frozen. Then. . .

“T-mee?” Michael looked around at the mention of the name, ears falling. He glanced at his parents, whining. “T-mee?”

The silence broke. “No, no, no,” Ranboo said, shaking his head. “You’re lying. No, you can’t. . .”

“That’s not true.” Tubbo’s tone was flat, hard, commanding Techno to take his words back. He didn’t. Slowly he watched Tubbo’s resolve crumble. “That’s not. . .”

“How?” Puffy asked quietly, stepping forward. Everyone else stood, staring blankly, processing the information, unsure what to feel.

“He saved Michael,” Techno said, “and lost his life doing it.” He paused. “If you want the whole story, prepare for a long one.”

Ranboo cleared his throat. “We should go inside, then. I want to hear everything.”

As a group, they slowly moved to the mansion. Technoblade stuck to the back, returning the glares that the others sent him. Ranboo and Tubbo rose, supporting each other’s weights, holding Michael in their arms. Tubbo pulled the thick winter clothes around the small piglin, soothing his ears. Tears filled his eyes.

Ranboo’s cries had quieted but his chest still heaved as he held his tears back. Techno turned away. He didn’t like seeing Ranboo this way, having grown close to him during his visits, but his compassion was waning with the thought of what he had done to Tommy.

Guiding Carl through the snow, he moved to the mansion, growing out of the ground with its numerous floors and countless windows. The others piled in through the doors and after tying Carl outside and making sure he was ready to stay for a while, he followed in.

A lounge area sat beneath the large staircase that rose to the floors above. The others gathered on the plush couches and chairs, brushing off snow and warming themselves. Techno glared at them until they looked away.

Kill them
they deserve to die
BLOOD
BLOOD GOD
rip them apart
TIME TO DIE
E
They exiled him
Make them suffer
Deadinnit
revenge arc
Kill them
BLOOD

Techno stayed standing, leaning against the staircase. His head pounded. His chest burned. He longed for the quiet of his cottage, the words rolling down the pages of his books, the warm tea that relieved the voices in his head. He missed the tales Phil told in the evening by the fire. How he wished he could be anywhere but here, if only he could run away from the story he would have to tell.

He couldn’t. Tommy deserved to have his story told.

Tubbo and Ranboo stumbled in, brushing off snow from their boots. Michael looked uncomfortable, surrounded by so many people, but he snuggled into Ranboo’s chest, clutching Tubbo’s hand. Techno forced his eyes away. Michael was no longer his concern. Tubbo and Ranboo settled onto a small love couch, side by side.

“So what is this nonsense about a god,” Jack demanded before anyone else could speak. “How do we know you didn’t just kill Tommy as revenge for betraying you.”

“You act like you care that he’s gone,” Techno answered coolly, his voice made of steel and sharper than the blade at his belt. It was a tone that had taken years of practise to perfect and the results of which he saw immediately as Jack shrunk back involuntarily. “I was there when he was killed, Jack, I would not benefit from lying to you.”

“It’s not like you haven’t lied before-”

“Quiet!” Puffy stepped in. She glanced Techno’s way, eyes guarded, then placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. The man leaned back and crossed his arms. “Techno, tells us what happened. Everything.”

All eyes were on him and it made his skin crawl. It was as if Chat had become real, their eyes staring into his soul with fire so hot he had only seen it in the Nether. There was no escape, no matter where he looked, there were eyes filled with hatred, carving into his skin.

Kill them
BLOOD
We call for blood
revenge
Kill them all
deathdeathdeath
BLOOD

“Tommy didn’t kill Michael,” Techno said. “As you can clearly see, he is safe and alive. The ‘Michael’ you found in the water was an innocent piglin that the god Nightmare had stolen and made look like him. Tommy realized this after he was exiled and started his search to find the real Michael.”

Tubbo glanced at Ranboo and clutched Michael’s hand tighter.

“Who is this Nightmare fella?” Quackity asked. He held his axe across his legs, the sharp blade glinting light. A ragged scar ran down his face and over a glossy white eye. Techno felt no remorse. They had tried to kill him and paid the price for it. Some a worse price than the others.

“He’s the god of nightmares, as the name suggests. He isn’t a stranger to any of you either, you’ve all met him.”

Everyone shared glances, eyebrows furrowed, confused eyes turned his way. “What?” Jack asked.

“Nightmare has the ability to take over someone’s mind, control them without their consent. It so happens that for over a year he has controlled someone we all know too well, making him do horrible things that his true self would never commit.” Silence. “That person is Dream.”

Shouts rose from the crowd, people threw their hands in the air, pointed at him, yelling insults. Tubbo’s eyes flashed and Ranboo curled in on himself, hands starting to tremble, holding Michael closer.

“You expect us to believe Dream has been mind controlled all this time?” Jack snapped. “How stupid do you think we are? You’re just trying to get us to release him so you can terrorise us more!”

“Did no one ever find it odd how fast Dream changed from his old self to the psychotic murderer and manipulator?” Techno challenged. Sapnap and George exchanged glances. “Did it never seem out of character how the kind Dream who welcomed most of you to the SMP suddenly went mad, hurting those he loved and not caring about anything on the server?”

It seemed to hit them that Techno’s words made sense.

“So Dream is. . . innocent?” George asked.

“If what Tommy told me is true, then yes. And I trust Tommy’s word.”

“But how can we trust you?” Quackity said. “You could be pulling this story out of your ass and telling us some fairytale about a god with control issues. How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

“Maybe you should let me finish the story before you throw a fit,” Techno growled. “I’m here because I promised Tommy I would bring Michael home. I’m making sure he didn't die for nothing.”

Tubbo flinched at the words. Puffy’s shoulders hunched but she kept her composure. Michael turned to Techno, eyes wide. “T-mee? Where T-mee?” He clutched the plush toy to his chest, still intact because of Tommy’s expert handiwork. Techno turned away.

“Tell us, Techno,” Puffy urged.

And Techno did. He recited the story Tommy had told him from start to finish. He told of Tommy camping in his temporary shelter, coming across the traveler who gave him Rose, winning the compass from an old man in the village, riding for months before reaching the mountain where his horse was killed and he found Michael.

He told of the journey back home on foot with only a compass to follow, caring for Michael, constantly afraid to be caught. Afraid to sleep, afraid to let Michael out of his sight. He told of sensing Nightmare by the borders of his domain, rushing there in time to save Tommy and Michael, taking them in and giving them shelter. He told of the care Tommy had taken with Michael, drawing extra attention to the love he had shown.

Shame pulled shoulders and heads down, anger made fists clench, the fear for what had happened making shivers run through the room. The constant quips and comments from the beginning disappeared as he talked, replaced by silent reactions as the SMP listened.

And then came the time to tell how it had all ended.

Techno swallowed, glancing out the window. Snow swirled outside, evening was falling, yet no stars were out. It had been on an evening like this it had all gone wrong.

“Nightmare took us by surprise, attacking my home,” he said. Tens of eyes watched him, listening closely. Tubbo wiped a fresh set of tears from his eyes and dapped Ranboo’s cheeks with the soft fur of his coat. Michael lay sound asleep in his arms. “He broke through the glass and went straight for Tommy.”

“So that’s how he died?” Sapnap asked quietly.

“No. Nightmare wounded Tommy badly, all but tearing his stomach open. But Tommy didn't give up. He didn’t stop. His primary concern was that Michael was safe. While I fought with Nightmare, he told Michael to hide, instructing him down a ladder to the basement. He then dragged himself over, bleeding, dying on top of the trapdoor, covering it to protect Michael. When nightmares swarmed in and attacked, he fought them off. Not once did he move from the trapdoor.

“He fought until the very end. He didn’t give up. He fought. And he lost.”

The silence was broken only by sniffles and gentle crying. The shame shone sharply through all of their eyes, glistening off their tears, bleeding from the wounds Techno could almost hear tearing from their hearts.

He wanted them to suffer. He wanted their remorse, their guilt. He wanted them to sob, fall to their knees and beg forgiveness before Tommy’s grave. He wanted them to feel the pain they deserved, cry until they were nothing but ash and bone.

“I want to kill that son of a bitch,” Quackity choked.

“He’s already dead. I killed him. But I couldn’t save Tommy.” Heat rose in his chest, riling up the voices that screamed so loud he feared his ears would break. “You exiled him for murdering Michael. Instead, he died saving him.”

Jack held his head in his hands. Sapnap rose from his seat, and paced, running his hands down his face. George hugged his knees to his chest. Puffy sat on a chair, shaking her head. Niki had her arm around her, comforting but her eyes seemed distant, cheeks spilling over with tears.

“This is all my fault,” Tubbo whispered. Ranboo glanced his way.

“Tubbo-”

“I should have known he would never hurt Michael. There was a reason we trusted him to care for him in the first place. Because we trusted him! How were we so blind? I accused my best friend of killing my child and didn’t think twice about it! It’s all my fault!”

Michael startled awake in their arms, alarmed by the sudden raise of voice.

“I did this!” Tubbo cried. Michael whined. Techno’s ears perked up as the kid struggled in his fathers’ arms, scared. Tubbo tried pulling him into an embrace, still hysterical, but Michael pulled away.

He glanced at Techno, eyes wide. “Tech-o!”

All eyes followed as Michael broke free from Tubbo’s arms and rushed to Techno, latching onto his leg. His facade broke immediately and he reached down, lifting Michael into his arms. He wasn’t his apathetic self with Michael and he didn’t want the last memory the kid would have of him be him refusing to hold him.

Softly, he whistled the tune into Michael’s ear, quiet enough that if the others weren’t staring in silent shock, the melody would not have been heard. They heard. But he didn’t care. Michael calmed down, sagging in his arms.

This would be the last time he would hold Michael, the last time he would ever see him again. Tubbo and Ranboo would never let him visit, they wouldn’t let him near the tundra. He would never see his little companion again. So he held him tight, savoring the feeling of the tiny body against his chest, the chubby arms wrapped around his neck, the soft breaths that blew into his ear.

“You will always find a home with me,” he whispered, so low he was sure no one else could hear. “You will always be welcome back.”

He held the child he had grown fond of, maybe even learned to love, before setting him down with the chorus of his breaking heart. Michael grasped his pant leg and glanced back at his parents who stared in shock. With one last glance back, Michael returned to Tubbo and Ranboo, climbing into their arms now that they had calmed down.

Techno forced the tears out of his eyes and straightened. “I buried Tommy by my house in a flower patch he loved when he stayed over after his second exile. I think he would have liked it.”

“Shouldn’t he be buried here?” Niki asked. “This is his home.”

Techno stared in disbelief. “Home? You exiled him and threatened to kill him if he ever came back. You call that home?”

Niki looked away.

“And it wouldn’t matter. Tommy wasn’t coming back either way, even if Nightmare hadn’t attacked.” That brought everyone to attention once more. “He never forgave you for what you did to him. You hurt him worse than any blade could. He wasn’t coming back.”

Tubbo buried his face in his hands. Ranboo cast his eyes down, hastily brushing away his tears before they could burn him.

“We really fucked up, didn’t we?” Quackity said, voice barely above a whisper.

Techno leveled his glare at him. “You did much more than that. You broke him.”

The words were brutal, but honest. Techno had seen the way Tommy’s eyes lost color when he mentioned the SMP, he’d seen the defeated look every time he thought of his old friends, his old life. The SMP had shattered his spirit, taken away what made him TommyInnit. They dimmed his spark and wondered why he no longer shone.

“So what do we do about Dream?” George asked quietly. “If he’s truly innocent, he’s trapped in the Prison for crimes he didn’t commit.”

“It’s not the first time someone’s been punished for something they didn’t do,” Techno said bitterly.

“Look, I want to believe Dream is innocent,” Sam said,” but Techno might be using Tommy’s story as a way to get Dream out. It might be part of a plan, a plot to hurt us in some way.”

Gut him
Deadsamdude
Kill him
BLOOD
BLOOD
he doesn’t trust you
how dare he
KILL HIM
Blood
E
BLOOD

Techno pushed the voices and his anger down. “Go to the Prison. If what Tommy told me is true, Dream’s story should match mine.”

“How do we know you haven’t planned anything with him?”

“Not only has he been locked in that Prison for a year with no way to contact me, he’s been busy reviving his cellmates and destroying clocks. I wouldn’t have had time to. . .”

But no one was listening. They were sitting up straighter, glancing at each other.

Tubbo clutched Ranboo’s hand, their eyes meeting before Ranboo’s enderman side forced him to look away. Techno watched as everyone but him seemed to catch onto the same idea.

“Dream, he. . .“ Tubbo started, struggling to get the words out. “He revived Tommy. Tommy died in the Prison and Dream brought him back. What if. . .”

“What if he could bring Tommy back again,” Quackity finished.

Excitement spread through the crowd, the people who had been so quick to cast Tommy away and threaten to kill him were now leaping to their feet at the chance of bringing him back to life.

Techno stared. Of course. Dream had brought people back before, why couldn’t he do it now? He had helped Tommy cheat the clutches of death once, what was another time? And if he truly was on their side now as Tommy claimed, he would help them. He would bring Tommy back.

The blood on his hands disintegrated, the pit of his stomach filled slowly, the hole in his heart started stitching itself together. They could bring him back. They would have to bring Dream to Tommy’s body, he’d have to dig up Tommy’s grave, but they could bring him back. It was possible.

It seemed it wasn’t time to say goodbye after all.

Chapter Text

The further they made their way into the prison, the more Techno feared what state they might find Dream in. If Tommy’s words were true, Dream had spent months controlled, manipulating and hurting people he cared for, unable to do anything to stop. And what would have happened to Dream in the last months, alone with his thoughts and knowledge with no one coming to visit him?

“We’re going to reach the main cell,” Awesamdude said, voice gruff. This was no longer the SMP’s friend, this was the Warden of Pandora’s Vault. “I don’t know what awaits us on the other side of that lava. I want the lot of you to remember that the person you see might still be the person you know. Dream might not have changed at all.”

“It’s worth a try,” Puffy said. Beside her, Jack nodded. Sapnap and George shared glances in the corner. Techno glanced at Tubbo, standing several steps away. Ranboo had opted to stay back with Michael, as had most of the others. In the darkness of the obsidian walls, Techno missed the comfort of his little friend.

They reached a room with a wall of lava on the opposite side. Levers sat by the wall and Awesamdude walked over, inserted his card and pulled a lever down. Nothing seemed to happen, but the Warden stepped away and walked to the lava.

“We’ll talk to him over the lava,” he said. “There’s no way to know what he will say or do. On this side of the lava, we’re safe.”

Silence stretched as the lava moved slowly, then a crack appeared as it lowered. They stood in tense silence. Techno itched for the weapons he’d left behind in the vault of the prison.

What little uncertainty of whether or not Dream was innocent or not vanished the moment the lava revealed the cell in the middle of the lake of fire. A shape sat in the back of the room, arms wrapped around himself, head bent low. Every once in a while, Techno saw him shudder.

Dream raised his eyes as the lava fell away and immediately shot to his feet, eyes filling with tears. He stumbled to the netherite barrier, gripping the bars for support.

“Please,” he croaked. “You have to let me explain, I- I don’t know what happened, I don’t-”

“We know, Dream,” the Warden said and Dream fell silent. His eyes shot to Sapnap and George before fluttering away. Techno took in his hunched shoulders and ragged clothes, paying attention to how sunken his cheeks were and how obvious the bags under his eyes were even from a distance. This wasn’t the man Techno had blown up a nation with.

Dream stared. His voice shook. “What?”

“We know everything,” Jack said.

“Nightmare,” Dream breathed. “He controlled me, I couldn’t stop him, I hurt so many people, I’m so sorry-” A sob escaped him. “I couldn’t stop him, I’m so sorry.”

The others shared looks. There had been no way for Dream to know about Nightmare unless what Techno had told them was true. And Techno trusted Tommy with what he had said. This was an innocent man.

“Dream, what happened?” Sapnap asked. His Adam's apple wobbled. “How did Nightmare. . . you know. . .”

Dream’s eyes glossed over and the blood drained from his face. “It’s fuzzy for me, but it was over a year ago, before L’Manberg, before the discs, before anything had gone wrong. I woke up one day and I could no longer control my body. And there was a voice in my head, someone who called himself Nightmare. He talked about power and control, none of which I wanted. Then he hurt people. He destroyed, manipulated and killed. I was the one doing it all, but I had no control.

“I was a puppet, trapped in my own head, screaming without a voice. Until several months ago, when I woke up and I could move again. I screamed for someone, anyone to listen, but no one came.”

Silence followed. Tears dripped down Dream’s face. Techno stared blank but his thoughts ran wild. He knew all about having voices in his head, but in the end he was in control of his actions. He enjoyed time alone, but Dream had spent months in complete isolation.

“You killed Tommy,” Techno said.

Dream paled. “I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop Nightmare, I tried, I swear I did-”

“That’s not my concern,” Techno growled. “You revived Tommy after he died. Nightmare killed him again. We need you to bring him back.”

Tears gathered in Dream’s eyes and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I- I don’t know how.”

Tubbo marched forward. “What do you mean you don’t know how, you’ve done it once before!”

“It wasn’t me,” Dream whispered, shoulders shaking. “It was Nightmare, he knew the spell, I don’t have the slightest clue. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to bring him back.”

Despite the heat of the lava, Techno’s blood froze in his veins, cold hands crawling around his stomach to tear at his heart. No, there had to be a way to bring him back.

“You’re lying,” Tubbo said. His fists clenched. “You’re lying! You brought him back once, you green bastard, you’re lying like you always do, you manipulating fuck! You bring him back! Bring him back or I swear I’ll kill you myself! Bring him back!”

Puffy reached out but Tubbo slapped her hand away. “Tubbo-”

“No!” The boy was hysterical. Puffy wrapped her arms around him. “No, he has to come back! He can’t die, he can’t be gone! Dream, you son of a bitch, bring him back! Bring him back!”

Dream shrunk back and wrapped his arms around himself, shoulders shaking as regretful sobs racked his body. Techno watched the chaos unfold, emotions whirling in his head. The voices screamed, some rejoicing, some mourning, some completely off the subject, all running rampant and messing with his thoughts.

Tommy wasn’t coming back. They didn’t have the revive book, the knowledge of resurrection had all been in Nightmare’s head. The head which Techno had chopped off. Tommy wasn’t coming back and it was all his fault.

Tubbo swung his elbow back, hitting Puffy in the stomach. She stumbled and Tubbo shot forward, aiming to release the bridge to go over the lava lake. He grabbed the sword from Awesamdude’s belt, and brandished it as he shot forward, but Sam grabbed him, wrestling him back.

Tubbo kicked, screaming. Jack wrenched the weapon out of his hands while Sam pulled him to the ground, wrapping his arms tight around the boy.

“Bring him back!” Tubbo wailed. His struggles grew exhausted, voice horse as his screams turned to sobs. “I can’t lose him. . . please bring him back . . . please. . .”

“How do we know he isn’t lying,” Jack asked. “What if this is some trick of his that he’s using to get out?”

“No,” Techno cut in. He was certain. “That’s him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because if this was the villain we thought he was, he would have lied about being able to bring Tommy back to get out of prison. He would have lied and manipulated you. This is the Dream from before.”

Sam met his gaze and he was no longer the Warden, but merely a man as desperate to have his friend returned as the others. “Techno-”

“My words mean nothing to you but I assure you that if I thought that that bastard was holding back information about being able to bring Tommy back, I would slit his throat immediately. I believe him.” He looked up at Sapnap and George, standing close together, eyes wide and uncertain. “That is your Dream.”

Tears filled George’s eyes. Sapnap took a shuddering breath and turned back to the cell. “Let us over, Sam,” he said.

Sam hesitated. Tubbo lay in his arms, shaking with sobs. He handed Puffy the card and she inserted it and pulled the lever marked for the bridge and it shuddered to life. George and Sapnap hurried on as it started to move, shuffling across the lava and waited patiently for the barrier to fall while the bridge returned. The moment the barrier lowered, they shot into the cell, wrapping their arms around Dream, collapsing to the ground in a tearful embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Dream cried into Sapnap’s shoulder.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Sapnap growled.

“We missed you,” George said.

Techno turned away, crossing his arms and leaning against the far wall. He should have known better than to be hopeful. Of course Dream wouldn’t know how to bring Tommy back, it hadn’t been him who had revived Tommy in the first place. It was painfully obvious now and he cursed himself for letting himself believe there was hope in the first place.

He’d seen his fair share of death and knew death was permanent. Tommy wasn’t known for his luck. He’d been revived once, a second chance for him was impossible.

Puffy crouched beside Tubbo and wrapped her arms around the boy, running her fingers through his hair. Sam handed him over before rising and taking a few steps back to breathe. Jack stood on his own, staring blankly at a wall.

“There’s nothing left for me to do here anymore,” Techno said finally. The others glanced at him. “I’m leaving.”

“We need to leave together, the prison has to stay secure,” Sam said. “Not to mention we need to make sure Dream is well enough to-”

“There’s no one to keep inside the prison anymore, Warden,” Techno growled. “No reason to keep it secure. Open the doors and let me out. I’m not staying here for a moment longer.”

“For Prime’s sake, give them a moment!” Sam snapped. “This isn’t easy for any of us.”

Techno marched up to him, standing inches away. Sam was one of the few people tall enough to meet his glare head on, but it did nothing to make him waver. “Make no mistake of us being friends, Warden. I came here to bring Michael to his parents, not to offer friendship. We are not at war but we are not allies. Don’t test my patience.”

The voices screamed for blood. They wanted revenge. They wanted someone to blame for all this, wanted someone to be angry at. He wanted to give it to them, he wanted to spill blood, he wanted the walls of the cells to be dripping with crimson from those who stood in his way, who hurt Tommy and who he was leaving Michael to live with.

But he didn’t want war. He didn’t want conflict. He wanted back to his cottage, where he could repair the damage, where he could mourn properly and continue with his life in retirement, reading his books and filling his journals. He wanted home.

“Get out,” Sam hissed, dressing a button. The doors behind them opened and by the sound of pistons echoing down the halls, Techno believed all paths were clear.

Without a second glance at Tubbo, still crying in Puffy’s arms or the heap on the other side of the lava, he marched into the prison, despising each second he was still trapped inside.

The portal outside swirled around him in a chaos of purple, then allowed him to step through to the outside world. The rest of the SMP waited in the night air, sitting on the ground picking at the blades of grass or staring off over the sea that spread behind the prison.

Everyone turned to look at him as he marched out, immediately on guard.

“Where’s everyone else?” Quackity challenged, reaching for his sword.

“You pull out your weapon and you’ll regret it,” Techno threatened. “They’re coming out. Dream is innocent. And Tommy isn’t coming back.”

The SMP shared glances. Ranboo hurried forward, Michael sleeping in his arms. “Techno-”

He brushed past, fighting the urge to take a look at Michael. With a whistle he called Carl, who had been nibbling on some grass a distance away. He trotted over and Techno pulled himself into the saddle and turned to the others.

“If I see any of you again,” he said,” I won’t hesitate to slit your throats.”

As he urged Carl into a gallop, he didn’t look back. No one would ever know of the tears that slid down his face that night.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
It took considerably longer to reach the grave with a stone cradled in his arms. Despite the rough surface of the stone, he carried it with gentle care, his back well aware of the many hours it had taken to carve.

The snow moved easy as he trudged through it, falling to the sides in waves of white. The blue sky peeked through the spruce trees, without a single cloud to drift across it.

Techno caught sight of green grass and knew he had reached the grave sight. He glanced ahead and froze, nearly dropping the stone.

Grass had grown over the dirt mound, a beautiful, lush green that covered the clearing like a blanket. Bumblebees and butterflies fluttered in the air, vibrant colors that caught the eye. But what made him stop was the patch of dark purple alliums that bloomed from the ground all around the grave.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Techno approached slowly, stepping between the flowers to make sure he didn’t flatten a single one. He crouched down and with precise movements, set the stone down in the small crevice at the head of where Tommy rested. It fit perfectly.

He took a step back and sat down to look at it.

TommyInnit
17 years old
A hero and a friend
Who more than anyone
Deserved a happy ending

“I never would have expected myself to learn to call you a friend,” he said after a couple moments. “Yet you never stopped surprising me.” The trees rustled in the wind. A bumblebee buzzed around one of the flowers. “You deserve your rest, Tommy. I’m sorry it had to come like this.”

He sniffed, surprised to feel his eyes tearing up. “You showed me how to love again. I thought I had forgotten how, but you made me remember. You taught me love. And for that I cannot thank you enough. My heart has been covered in blood and betrayal for so long, I forgot there was anything else in this world. You gave me more than your share of pain, but you healed me more than anyone has ever before.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. You were a child through all that you went through and no one realized. I chose to ignore it myself. It was easier than to take responsibility for my own actions. I wish I had said something before. Maybe I could have saved you, helped you. Perhaps I could have protected you. But now I can’t, so I promise to live the life you deserved to have.”

A small red bird fluttered to the ground next to him. He placed a hand out and it hopped onto his palm, fluttering its wings. It might have been a coincidence that in that moment the rays of sun broke through the trees and shone onto the clearing, but something in the way the bird’s eye glinted told him otherwise. It tilted its head, looking up at him.

Techno smiled.

“Thank you, Tommy. For everything,” he whispered to it.

The bird bent down and pecked him lightly on the finger and flew off.

For the first time in a long while, he was starting to believe that perhaps everything would be alright.

Chapter Text

There was a knock at the door.

Techno’s attention shifted from his book to the direction of the sound, the voices going quiet for a moment before rising in a hum of questions. Techno set his glasses on the table and placed his book down. He grabbed his axe and crept to the door.

Phil wasn’t going to visit in a couple of months at least; he had said it himself. There was no one else who would visit him, no one else he was going to welcome into his home. Whoever was outside the door, was not a friend.

Squaring his shoulders and gripping his axe, he wrenched the door open.

Large blue eyes stared back. A teenager outside his door wore a brown coat, hood rimmed with fur, thick pants running down his legs to boots. A belt hung from his hip with a sword and a dagger, a leather harness strapped across his chest. He clutched a compass in his hand. A golden chain hung from his neck.

“Technoblade?” the teenager asked, staring up at him carefully.

Techno stood frozen, eyes glued to the visitor. It couldn’t be. It had been years ago, how could he remember- How could he know- Could it be-

“Michael,” he breathed.

The teenager’s eyes widened. “You remember me?”

They stood frozen, staring at one another until Techno was able to shake himself from the shock and moved out of the way, wordlessly inviting Michael inside. Sheepishly, the teen entered.

Michael looked around in awe, taking in every detail. The axe hung in Techno’s hand and he hurriedly placed it away. Could it be? Was this really him? He hadn’t seen Micheal in years, not since he had taken him back to the SMP and not having kept any contact with the SMP, he had no idea how Michael’s life had been so far. Was it possible this was his little friend?

“Why are you here?” The question came out direct and it startled Michael out of his wonder. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet, ear twitching.

“I, uhh,” he said, ear twitching. “I heard stories about you my entire life. Other than you saving my life they were bad things, like how you blew up L’Manberg and killed my Dad. And if I’m being honest, I was forbidden from coming here.” Techno raised a brow. Michael swallowed. “But I. . . I always remembered some things from being here, with you. And I never really believed that you were bad.”

“You’re one of few who do,” Techno replied, voice sour. He inspected Michael further, pushing down the howling in his head. “You remember?”

“Bits and pieces. Some memories I’m not sure are real, I think they might just be my imagination. But I always wanted to meet you. You saved my life all those years ago and you brought me back home. And. . . you’re the only other piglin that I know exists in the Overworld.” Techno stayed silent, unsure what to say. Michael took it the wrong way. “I can leave, if you’d like. I just kind of barged in without warning, it’s alright if you want me to go-”

“It’s fine. You’re. . .” Techno found a lump rising in his throat. “You’re always welcome here.” The teen visibly brightened, a smile breaking onto his lips. Techno cleared his throat. “Do you want tea?”

“Coffee, please.” Techno shot him a look. “T-tea is fine.”

He told Michael to settle into the living room while he went to brew their drinks.

It’s a trap!
Michael!
Michael’s back
KILL HIM
BLOOD
traitor
E
BLOOD
Kill him
wtf
michael?
MICHAEL
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD

What was Michael doing here? Was it a trap like the voices were saying? Was there an underlying reason that Michael had sought him out after all this time? Was it really Michael at all? Was he asking for a favor? Was there yet another war in the SMP? If there was, he wasn’t going to take part in it.

He glanced at Michael, who was no longer sitting on the couch but inspecting the many books organized on his shelves. If there was a war, could he allow Michael to live through it? He knew what battle and death did to a person, especially someone as young. He had seen it destroy Tommy. Was he prepared to let Michael suffer like his uncle had?

Once he walked into the living room and handed Michael his drink, the teenager finally settled down.

“I thought you weren’t allowed to meet me. So how are you here?” he asked.

Michael’s eyes flicked away and back and he held his cup with both hands. “My parents think I’m out exploring. They usually let me be away for a few days or a week. I took the liberty of being away a bit longer.”

“Won’t they be worried?”

“Very. But. . . I had to see you.”

“And they don’t know you’re here?”

The kid’s ears fell. “No.”

His heart thrummed at seeing the ashamed look on Michael’s face so he hurried to assure him. “It’s alright. You’re welcome here. I’d just rather your parents know you’re here so they don’t think that I kidnapped you since you disappeared and somehow appeared here.”

“Dad would never let me come if I knew. Pops might, but. . . I’ll just tell them I’ll be gone longer next time.”

Techno froze. Next time? Was Michael planning on returning? Warmth spread across his chest, one he hadn’t felt since the last time Phil had visited, his mind was racing, heart pounding, arms tingling with excitement.

“But the reason I’m here,” Michael continued, twirling his fingers,”is that I wanted to meet you. It’s hard being the only piglin hybrid. Dad and Pops are really understanding and supportive because they know what it’s like. But just as much they long for someone like them, I do as well. And I knew where you lived so. . .” Michael gestured with his hands.

“What if I had been the monster they made me out to be?” Techno asked. Their eyes met. “I could have killed you. I still could. What would you have done then?”

“You won’t kill me.” The certainty in his voice surprised Techno. “You saved me. You cared for me when I was small, that doesn’t just disappear. I trust you.”

Techno stared. How did he feel so horribly out of place in his own home? It was as if the moment Michael came in, he owned it all, much as he once again owned Techno’s heart.

Michael sipped his tea. “You know how to fight, right?”

Techno frowned and his stomach dropped. Of course. He had been hopeful that perhaps Michael was here just for him, but no. He was here because he needed someone to fight for him. Once again, Techno was nothing but a weapon, nothing but the Blade to everyone else in the world. He’d been stupid to hope there was something more.

“I was wondering if you could teach me?” Techno looked up. Michael stared at him expectantly. “I know you don’t want to fight and I’m not going to hold it against you if you say no. But I’m an explorer. Once I’m old enough, I’m going out there, into the world. And that brings with it a lot of danger.

“I’ve lived in a world where I haven’t had to learn how to wield a sword or throw a knife. I’m thankful for that. But I’m no fool and I know not every place in the world is safe like the SMP. I might have use for fighting and if you’re willing, I wish to learn from you.”

Techno stared. Never before had he imagined training someone, much less teaching them the art of the blade for anything else but destruction and death. Michael wanted to learn to fight not to harm others, but to protect himself. It was. . . refreshing.

For years, his uncanny ability to fight had been a constant reminder of his thirst for blood, a mark that he was a killer, nothing but a monster. But it had all been his judgement at himself, his thoughts that knowing how to use a sword made him a villain. He wasn’t wrong for knowing how to use a sword just as he wasn’t a weapon just because he could wield one.

“Techno?” Michael asked, voice quiet, head tilted. He had been silent for too long.

“You want to learn how to fight?”

“And piglin!” Michael blurted, eyes widening once he realized he’d let his excitement show. “I, uh, I would like to learn piglin, if that’s alright as well? Dad and Pops tried their best to learn and teach me, but none of us are really good at it.”

“Alright then. And is there anything else?” Techno raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips. It had been too long since he had seen the childish excitement. Too long since he had seen Michael. And now he was here. “Another request?”

Michael’s face fell and he looked down at his hands. “There is actually.” His voice was quiet and Techno’s smile fell. “Could I. . . Could I see him?”

Techno straightened and paused before nodding. Michael’s shoulders sagged and he let out a breath. “Tomorrow,” Techno said. “I’ll take you tomorrow. But tonight, you sleep. It’s late and you’ve had a long journey here. Finish your tea and get to bed, alright?”

Techno rose and made a move to the kitchen. A hand grabbed his sleeve and pulled him to a halt.

“Thank you, Techno,” Michael said, eyes sincere. “For what you did for us. Not only did you protect me, but you saved him as well. I remember Uncle Tommy as someone who was strong and always kept me safe, but he was barely older than I am now. I’ll never know what it was like but I can guess that it meant the world to him that you took us in and helped us. You were his hero, Techno. And you’ll always be mine.”

His arms moved with a familiarity from years prior, pulling Michael to his feet, wrapping him into an embrace. Michael melted against his chest, head barely reaching his shoulders. He was considerably bigger than he last time they’d held each other, but it was still Michael. It was still his little one.

“You saved me, Michael,” he whispered. Michael pressed tighter against him, hands gripping his shirt. “You saved my heart. You’re my hero, and I’ll never thank you enough.”

They pulled away and to preserve what little remained of his dignity, Techno blinked away the tears that had gathered in his eyes and ruffled Michael’s hair, pushing him away. Michael laughed, sitting back down, eyes turning to the fire.

He took their mugs and brought them into the kitchen, stilling the thundering of his heart, pushing past the screaming voices in his head. It was as if he’d been dipped into a bath of lava, warmth spreading across his body, tense muscles melting like butter. He washed the tea cups and set them to dry, then glanced at the reflection of the living room from the window.

Michael sat snuggled on the couch, a book from the shelf propped up in his lap. Once upon a time in his memory sat an image of him holding Michael in his arms, silently reading the same book he was now watching the teenager absorb. He looked away with a smile, breath trembling.

Whatever gods had led his angel back to him, he would thank for centuries to come, grateful for bringing Michael home. Tomorrow he would have to send Michael back to the SMP, but he didn’t dread it, knowing that he would be back soon. And he would never have to say goodbye again.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’
Powdered snow followed them through every step, white stretching between the trees into the distance. The only source of green in the forest were the spruce, tall and bushy, branches encasing the trunks like cloaks, hiding the bark from the white of the world.

Michael moved nimbly behind him, leaping in the holes that Techno’s boots created. Once in a while he would stumble and catch himself, straying several paces from the path before blundering back and resuming. But once Techno slowed down, Michael fell silent, coming up beside him, eyes uncertain.

“Through here,” Techno hummed, pushing aside a branch to reveal the clearing.

The vibrant colors took the breath out of him, despite having seen it a hundred times before.

Michael stepped past, mouth parted, blue eyes wide with wonder. His eyes traced the hundreds of flowers and butterflies, following the movements of the dozen bees that buzzed in the air, before finally landing on the mossy stone at the far end of the clearing.

A smile fell onto his lips and his shoulders relaxed. Michael stepped into the clearing.

Together they moved to the gravestone, careful of the life that grew around them. Michael came to a stop and Techno took a step back to give him space, but was pulled back. They stood side by side in silence.

“I was too small to know the sacrifices you made for me when you did them,” Michael said after a moment, eyes glossing over,” but the more I learn about you, the more I feel I need to thank you. You had no obligation to save or protect me, no reason to come find me when I was taken and yet you did. You loved me and cared for me. I wish I could remember you better and more than anything I wish I could thank you in person.

“You deserve life and it was taken from you. So I promise to live the life you never had. I’ll see the world for you, Tommy. I’ll see it all, every corner, every world. And I’ll come back, and I’ll tell you all of it. You’re with me, Uncle Tommy, always. And I promise to never give up.” Michael kneeled by the stone and placed a hand on Tommy’s name. “For you. Always for you.”

Leaning in, Michael pressed his forehead to the stone, closing his eyes. Techo swallowed thickly and thanked the voices for staying quiet. It seemed they too had realized this was a moment between Tommy and Michael. They had no right to speak.

“He’d be proud of you, Michael,” he said, placing a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

The kid looked up and smiled through teary eyes. “I know.”

That morning, waving goodbye to Michael as he rode away, Techno breathed in the fresh air of the new day. For centuries he had lived and he had seen worlds fall and crumble. He had seen death and loss, wreaked havoc and brought misery. If anything, he should have felt an end, a conclusion to a story, perhaps a story of his own. The ending chapter, the last path that would now come to a close.

But waving farewell, a promise of return tucked close to his heart, all he could sense was a new beginning. And for the first time, after years of suffering and regret, all the grief and bad from his past had finally gone away.