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It was so cold.
When Tommy opened his eyes, all he was met with was pitch black darkness. Where was Techno? Where was Father?
Where was Wilbur?
He tried to move, to scream, to cry, anything. Anything but just fucking laying there–or was he floating? Floating around in an empty void, waiting some arm of the universe to scoop him up and put him back in the battlefield where he belonged, back with his family?
“This is not your last chance,” Wilbur had told him. But no matter how hard Tommy searched, no matter how hard he tried to will himself into believing it, he couldn't find him. All he could find was the truth staring at him in the face, forming the void all around him.
Yes, it was.
Then suddenly he found floor. Then a sky. Then a background. Detail after detail sprang up, one at a time, pausing just long enough for him to notice. Before he knew it, he was at a faintly familiar orchard, filled with a faintly familiar silence, with an all too familiar castle in the distance; too far away to walk to, but close enough to dream.
Then, from behind him, laughter.
Tommy whipped his head around, meeting his mother, who looked only the smallest bit older than when he last saw her.
Her laughter never sounded more clear.
A wave of emotion washed over him, followed by a wave of questions–where have you been did you miss me do you still love me even after what I did do you still love Wilbur are you mad at me for being here did you miss me did you miss me–but one thought rung like a bell in his head, and he wondered for a moment if this is what Wilbur's voices were like.
I'm here. I'm here and I can see you and you can see me and I'm with you again.
Mother approached him, cupping his face in her hands as she so often did, and smiled. Tommy could tell that time had been kind to her.
"My boy, you've grown so tall."
He reached his hand up to hers, feeling every bump and scratch and scar and realized she was real. She was real and so was he.
"Mother," he breathed.
Her smile only grew wider. "You're about as tall as your father. He would've been so proud at what you've become."
"Mama," he said again, whimpering almost, as his face contorted into a sob. She gently pulled him into a hug, and he clutched at her dress. If he held on tight enough, they would never be separated again.
"You haven't visited in days, I was starting to worry. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were off fighting in a war!" Tommy knew that she was joking, the way she said it made him think she knew, but he wanted to explain everything to her. He wanted to tell her about what Wilbur did, who Techno fought, Father's return, all of it. He couldn't help but find himself back at the dinner table, in a simpler time where Techno was still a complete stranger to him, back when Wilbur was simply the ruler of Tommy rather than an entire kingdom, explaining everything he and Wilbur did down to the most inconsequential detail.
But what he said instead came out a gurgled sob as his mother pulled him closer and sat him down on the ground, which he found was now grass.
"My boy," she cooed in his ear after a while, "you're stronger than I could have ever imagined."
Tommy shuddered. "Did you see who Techno fought, Mama?"
She chuckled. "I saw."
"Mama, did you see what Wilbur did? Did you see him blow the horn?"
"I saw."
"Did you see me, Mama? Did you see me before all of that? I was doing so good."
"I saw, Tommy, I saw." She pushed him by his shoulders out of their embrace, forcing him to look at her. She truly didn't look as if she aged a day. "You did great. You, Technoblade, and even Wilbur. I truly could not ask for better sons."
"But I let Dad go. After you died-" He decided he didn't like acknowledging that truth quite yet- "he came into my room and he left through the window. I could've stopped him, I could've-"
"-died." She tucked a stray strand of gold behind his ear as his hands fell into his lap. "You could've cost your you and your brothers' lives if you decided to chase after Philza." Tommy stared at her as she absent-mindedly shook her head, not even having the energy to cry anymore. He simply wanted to hear his mother's voice one more time. "Once that man has made up his mind, he'll do anything to make sure it happens. If he doesn't want anyone to follow him, he'll take a path no mortal could survive just to ensure that he's alone."
There was a shared silence between the two, one that Tommy could stand more than others, before he finally decided his curiosity deserved to be sated.
"Mama, what was Dad the god of?"
"He was called the Angel of Death."
Tommy's eyes widened, shocked upon finally, finally, receiving an answer. "He's the god of death?"
His mother nodded solemnly. "And freedom." She thought for a moment before shrugging. "Though, I've been told those names change like tides in the ocean."
Like sons in the battlefield, Tommy silently added.
"We should probably get to picking," she said after another moment of shared silence as she stood up, wiping grass and dirt from her dress. "You know the castle can't live a day without its bowls of apples."
Tommy snorted. "Not even going to save any for your precious boy?" He followed in her steps as she turned away from him. "I haven't eaten in years, Mother."
"You can blame Wilbur when he gets here," she said, turning around to face Tommy, showing him the smallest glimpse of a smile.
For the first time in what might've been years, Tommy found himself unable to wipe a smile from his face. "You old hag, you."
"To say that about your own mother!" She feigned offense as she started picking. "Why, I thought I raised you better than that, Tommy!"
"You did, but then Wilbur took over."
And it was like that, back and forth and back and forth, running all around the orchard, chasing each other at times, eating apples and Tommy catching his mother up with what happened with everything and everyone. He knew she didn't understand at some points, and that she probably never would, but she was interested; she was listening, and that's all Tommy cared about.
At fifteen, Tommy had died, but he had never felt more alive.