Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dragons are magnificent creatures, but little is known about them. Tubbo never expected to encounter one in real life, let alone befriend one that is a mix between a human and one. In fact, he's befriended two. 

It feels like a dream.

It was on a night like any other, aside from the way the sky danced with color. They were the northern lights, otherwise known as aurora borealis, and they were gorgeous. They weren't too rare, but even though that isn't the case, it feels like a once in a lifetime. So, to no one's surprise, Tubbo needed to watch them from the perfect, highest spot. 

That came easy, they were a cliffside village, residing in the high, snowy peaks. The lights don't last for long, and he had been preparing for this moment. He already had his supplies, so he grabbed his bag and ran; but didn't get very far. A hand grabbed him by his collar, forcing him to a stop and nearly choking him. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Phil asks, an eyebrow raised and a slight, near unnoticeable smile. Tubbo struggles but breaks free of his grasp, he adjusts his collar and turns to face the older man; who he considered a father figure of sorts. He himself was an orphan and grew up mostly on his own, but Phil and his son, Wilbur, would help him from time to time. Whether it be granting him shelter, new clothes or freshly cooked food. 

"Just going to see the lights!" He eagerly replies, tugging on the strap of his bag, which contained a telescope. He ran on the spot, unable to stand still for any longer. "Come on, it's not that far! I can handle myself," he assured and stood tall, straightening his shoulders.

Phil let out a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sure you can. Remember last time?"

Tubbo rolled his eyes, turning away. The last time the northern lights appeared in the sky, he had been in such a rush to climb the mountain that he slipped, and lost his footing. He fell a short height, and aside from blacking out for twenty minutes or so, he was alright when Wilbur found him. He sustained no injuries, except for a minor headache. 

"I'll be careful," he assures in a stern tone. He already knows what Phil is going to say, but he's too slow to intervene.

"Let Techno or Wil go with you, at least." 

He groans and tilts his head back. He doesn't have anything against either of them, truthfully, but it ruins the experience. This is supposed to be his moment, to relish and awe at the lights on his own. He grimaced at the last instance both men came along, and they wouldn't stop talking. He'll rip his hair out if it happens again.

"But… consider," he chuckles, clasping his hands together and pointing them at Phil, who raises a brow and tilts his head. "What if I…" Tubbo trails off, slowly backing away, his nervous smile turns into a devious grin. "Don't!" He shouts, turning tail and running towards the mountain peaks. 

He laughs as Phil calls out to him, but it's useless. He dashes through the bustling village, dodging unsuspecting townsfolk, including Techno and Wil. They both take a double take, then call out to him, but he ignores their shouting. He'll show them, he doesn't need any "bodyguards", or babysitters, more like it. He's sixteen, he knows how to take care of himself. 

He successfully makes it out of the village untouched, he doesn't bother to check if he's being chased. Instead, he slips off his backpack and opens the flap, taking out two ice axes and some rope, he digs into the snow, makes sure he has a tight grip, and begins climbing. It's a normally steady process, you have to be careful, just one wrong move could be catastrophic. 

He's gotten these recently, forced to, more like; after his incident. Climbing with his hands wasn't the easiest, even with gloves, but it was doable. This, however, is much easier and preferable; he should have done it ages ago. 

The lights haven't faded yet. For now, they remain high in the sky, but they won't be for much longer. So, despite needing to take precautions, he speeds up the pace a little, moving as fast as he can while acting safely. 

As he nears the top, something flies overhead. It's close enough to send a strong gust of wind his way. He clings to the wall and holds his ground. When he lifts his head, the figure… whatever it was, a faint, dark silhouette; it's gone now. He didn't get a good look at it, but it was too big to be a bird, way too big. 

There's a loud thud coming from directly above him. 

He moves slowly, one hand in front of the other. Left, right, moving in a repeated cycle… in under a minute, he reaches the top of the mountain, but he's too scared to raise his head. He remains on the cliff, trying to steady his breathing. 

It could've been his imagination. The gust of wind had nothing to do with the silhouette, and what he heard was just some snow falling. But he doesn't believe himself, it couldn't have been his imagination.

Taking in a deep breath, he braces himself. He counts to three in his head, and lifts his head over the edge. 

There's nothing there, all he sees is a flat plain of snow, and the northern lights. Though he is utterly relieved, he's also confused. He swore he heard something, whether it was snow or… something else, it was definitely something; but there's nothing out of the ordinary. Where did it go?

There's another loud thud behind him, the exact same. 

Without thinking, he spun around and let out a scream. Glowing, bright red eyes belonging to what he assumed to be a person at first were staring right at him. The person; a boy around his age with blonde hair and horns, let out a loud, high-pitched growl as he opened his mouth wide, and that too, glowed. 

Then, he spat it out. A ball of fire that would've hit Tubbo head on, if someone hadn't grabbed him at the last second and jumped out of the way. The fireball collided with a tree, slicing it clean in half and sending it tumbling off a cliff. 

Tubbo clings to his savior, assuming it to be Wilbur or Techno; he doesn't check. His whole body trembles as he shakily breathes in, and out. It's only when he hears ruffling that he opens his eyes, and notices that his 'friend' has a pair of black and white speckled wings, and a long, matching tail. 

Another scream escapes his throat as he turns to face the stranger, who is at least seven feet tall. His hair and face are split down the middle into two different colors; black and white, with one green eye, the other red. The colors fully take up both eyes, including the sclera, which is ninformally white. Like the other boy, he has horns atop his head, and razor sharp teeth that are revealed when he speaks. "Wait, we aren't going to hurt you!" 

Tubbo doesn't stop screaming. It's only when he starts to tilt backwards that he realizes he's teetering over the edge, and there's no time to save himself. He falls off the cliff, and descends through the air. 

"Get him!" The first, black and white dragon wails, running to the edge.

"Why?" The other scoffs, casually watching Tubbo fall. 

"He's going to die! Do you really want a death on your hands?!"

Rolling his eyes, the blonde haired dragon leaps off the edge, tucks his wings behind his back, and cuts through the air like a bullet. 

Tubbo screams at the top of his lungs, narrowly avoiding the cliffs. He can't grab anything, there's nothing he can do. He screams louder as the dragon draws closer, praying that someone would hear him; but what would they do? Catch him? 

He closes his eyes when the dragon reaches him. Arms wrap around him, and in what feels like a strong gust of wind, he starts lifting up.

He opens his eyes, and to his horror, the dragon boy is carrying him. "Let go of me!" He yells, kicking him in the chest. The dragon doesn't let go, his claws poking into his skin and glowing eyes distract Tubbo from the fact that he's no longer falling to his death; as he still considers this to be in danger. 

He screams and kicks, but the dragon refuses to let go.

"You can open your eyes! Jeez, Ranboo! You owe me one, bitch." 

Tubbo's eyes flutter open, they've landed. He's about to speak, but is dropped onto the ground, the snow doing little to soften his landing. 

He groans, rubbing the back of his head. Standing before him are… two human-dragon hybrids, is the best way he can describe them. The wings are not fake, that's just been tested. It's one thing to discover that dragons are real, but another that a hybrid between them and humans exist… he must be dreaming.

He pinches himself, but doesn't wake up. The two dragons are just… staring at him, tilting their heads as if he's interesting; like he's the one who's unordinary. He slowly shuffles back, but freezes in place when the black and white one, Ranboo, takes a step forward and holds up his hands. "Whoa there!"

He nearly fell right off the edge again. This time, he wouldn't have been saved. He clambers to his feet and keeps his distance, teetering on the edge. He doesn't take his eyes off the two hybrids… they appear to be around his age, but both are considerably taller. They have the physique of a human, but the characteristics of a dragon. 

"We aren't going to harm you," Ranboo reassures, approaching with caution. 

Tubbo glares at his companion, who returns the look. Ranboo glances between them and heavily sighs, muttering something under his breath. "Tommy…" he says in a warning tone, then gestures to Tubbo. "Apologize."

If the situation weren't so tense, Tubbo would've laughed at Tommy's reaction. He stumbles over his words, making dramatic hand gestures at Tubbo, before deeply groaning and slouching over in defeat. "Fine…" he mutters, then stands up straight and takes a few steps towards Tubbo, only stopping when he puts his hands out.

"Sorry," he mumbles. Tubbo could barely hear him. After Ranboo clears his throat, he groans again and rolls his eyes. "Sorry for attacking you. Humans don't normally come up here, thought you were dangerous…" his words reduce to whispering towards the end, and he averts his gaze. 

With every passing minute, this feels more like a fever dream. Unfortunately, it is very real. Even his bizarre imagination couldn't make this up. "You're… forgiven," he lies through his teeth. He takes in their features, how realistic it is, and terrifying. Not only are their eyes absurd colors, their pupils are slit. He's been here plenty of times, well over ten, so how has he never seen them before? 

"I'm Ranboo, this is Tommy," Ranboo introduces himself, holding out his hand. It is pure black, whereas the other is ghostly white. "We didn't mean to scare you, honestly."

Tubbo hesitates, Ranboo's claws are long and sharp. He keeps his hand by his side and offers Ranboo a sheepish smile instead, internally contemplating before responding with; "Tubbo. My… name is Tubbo. What… are you?"

The two exchange glances, the northern lights are fading away. "Isn't… it obvious?" Ranboo asks, and Tommy scoffs. 

He cocks his head and elbows Ranboo. "They think we're extinct, remember?"

As if he needed any more proof, that solidified his assumptions. He gulps, and speaks slowly. "What… are you doing here?"

Ranboo and Tommy  turn towards the northern lights, still dancing in the sky. Their folded wings open up. "Same reason as you," Tommy answers bluntly.

Goosebumps arise on Tubbo's skin as he watches them walk towards the ledge, eyes glued to the northern lights. He quickly grabs Ranboo's shoulder and shouts, "wait!" 

His wings spread open to their full length, stretching farther than Tubbo's arms. They're covered in minor, old scars and scratches that look like constellations. Tubbo tries to touch it, the thin layer of skin between bone. His fingertips brush the skin, its rubbery, the patches of scales are rough.

The northern lights are disappearing.

Ranboo crouches, and it dawns on Tubbo. Beside him, Tommy shoots off; spiralling through the air, he soars towards the lights. When he turns his attention back to Ranboo, it's too late. He can't even get a single word out. His screams are muffled by the rising velocity, they've taken off and it feels like Ranboo was catapulted into the air. 

Tubbo buries his head into the crook of Ranboo's neck, hanging on for dear life. He has a firm grip on Ranboo's shoulders, his shoulders propped behind his wings. He doesn't dare open his eyes, instead attempts to steady his breathing as his heart races out of control. 

"Hey!" Tommy calls out, but he still refuses to open his eyes. "Tubb, whatever, at least enjoy the view!" 

He tries to ignore him, but as the seconds pass, his curiosity grows. At the count of three, he opens his eyes the tiniest bit, and through his blurred vision, he sees it; the northern lights. He knows that you can't actually fly right up to them, a shame, but from the sky; they look so much closer. 

His eyes flicker to Tommy, and he gasps. On his deep red wings are symbols; lightning strikes that vibrantly glow. His whole body is illuminated, faintly glowing. He grins from ear to ear, shouts "woo-hoo!" And dives. He tucks his wings and descends in a spin, his entire body lit like a firework. Then, as Tubbo feared he'd crash, his wings flew open and the strong winds flung him up into the air. 

It was like watching a firework be shot into the sky, and it went off when Tommy reached his prior height and opened his wings. "Jealous?" He shouts, and yeah, he is. Very jealous. 

As Ranboo bursts into laughter, Tubbo looks at his wings. Like he thought, the swirls and other symbols littering both wings glow just as vibrant as Tommy. It's hard to get a good look, since of his positioning. An idea comes to mind. They aren't moving at high speeds, they're simply gliding through the cold air. 

So, Tubbo does most possibly the stupidest idea he has ever thought of, and stands up. Ranboo is tall enough, Tubbo stands on the back of his legs and spreads out his arms. Ranboo's wings are gorgeous, the tiny speckles are like stars. 

"Careful!" Ranboo warns, nearly giving Tubbo a heart attack. As he glances over his shoulder, Tubbo makes another grand discovery.

"You have freckles!" 

They're glowing as well. He has a giggling fit, unable to believe this is actually happening. He is flying through the air, it doesn't matter if he is catching a ride on somebody else. The view is gorgeous, woven threads of green, pink, red and violet strung across the night sky. Black heavens are the perfect stage upon which the brightest of hues dance, mesmerizing him.

"How come I've never seen you before?" He asks, raising a hand to the sky, he's still too far. They're just spectacles of light… but in his mind, he can imagine what they feel like, though it's hard. Like ribbon, because that's what they resemble; or silk. Just a brush of his fingertips… 

Ranboo glances at Tommy flying alongside him, then awkwardly clears his throat. "We, uh… don't like to be seen? Humans aren't exactly the kindest, either…"

Oh, right. In the folktales, dragons were the ones who trespassed and caused chaos, burning down homes with their fiery breath and endangering people. They were described as monsters, bloodthirsty beasts… 

"You're not going to tell anyone about us, right?" 

He flinches. Ranboo's voice is stern and clear, it sends shivers up his spine. One wrong move or misspoke, and he'll be falling to his untimely death. He chooses his words carefully, laying back down in a more… safer position. "No… no, of course not."

The northern lights are gone. Without them, they both blend into the darkness. He didn't see Tommy at first, even though he had not gone anywhere; his dark palette camouflaged him. 

A silence befalls them. His chest is heavy, weighing down his anxious heart. He opens his mouth to speak, but is cut off. 

"I'm going to put you down now, back on the mountain."

"Wait!" He has nothing more to say, Phil will be worried if he's gone for too long, but there's something tugging at his heartstrings. He is the first to discover them in what, decades, centuries of believing they were extinct? It's only been twenty minutes or so, he can't say goodbye yet. 

Ranboo ignores his plea, changing direction towards the mountain. If they depart now, he'll most certainly never see them again. They'll know to avoid him, they'll hide out of sight. "Don't! Hold on!" He shouts, and without thinking, yanks on Ranboo's wings. 

In response, Ranboo's balance wavers. He leans too far to the right, and Tubbo dangles; holding on by his wings. From the corner of his eye, Tommy flies towards them like a bullet. They're going to crash into the mountain.

So he lets go. 

He lands on his arm and cries out in pain. He rolls right off the edge, but grabs onto the ledge with one hand. A scream is caught in his throat as he tries to lift himself up, but he's too weak. His other arm throbs in pain, he bites back a pained shout when he moves it.

"Ranboo, Tommy!" He yells, to no avail. His fingers are slipping, he kicks at the heavy layer of snow, searching for a ledge to balance on. There's nothing but more snow. "Help!"

His hand slips. The wind howls in his ears as he falls. In his mind, he screams as loud as he can, but in reality, he doesn't make a sound. He waits for the moment one of them swoops in and catches him, just like before. They'll catch him, right?

Right?

"Gotcha!" 

He dangles by his arm, a hand tightly gripping his wrist, an arm wraps around his waist and pulls him up. It isn't Ranboo or Tommy, it's Wilbur who catches him, and holds him close like a baby koala. Just a little further, a couple more seconds… and it would've been too late.

"What did Dad tell you? Don't go off on your own! Jeez, Tubbo." His following words are blurred out, drowned out by white noise and Tubbo's empty thoughts. He wraps his arms and legs around Wilbur, clinging to him as if he still has something to fear. 

He stares at Techno who's beneath them, the cold air fogging up his goggles. Tubbo tilts his head up to the sky, watching it for a few seconds, until two dark figures fly overhead. If he blinked, he would've missed it. Neither Techno or Wilbur see it. 

"Come on, let's get you home."

Chapter Text

Months have passed since Tubbo's fateful encounter, although the memory no longer keeps him up at night; not a day goes by that he doesn't think of them. The two dragon hybrids that no one knew existed, and aside from him, no one does. 

At first, he was thrilled; about to burst with excitement, he saw no harm in informing Wilbur, Phil and Techno of his discovery. They'd be the only ones to believe him, everyone else in the village would call him crazy and delusional, but they'd trust him. They've always taken his word on things no one else believes. 

Yet, he didn't utter a word. He kept his lips sealed, against his better judgement and thrill. Tommy and Ranboo were wary of humans, they were hiding and Tubbo had stumbled upon them by chance. Now, he knows his adoptive family wouldn't lay a finger on either, they weren't those kinds of people…

The rest of the village, however, he couldn't be sure about. If word spread that dragon hybrids were in fact real and lived at the very outskirts of their village, then chaos would ensue and his two friends; if he can even call them that, will be in danger. So, as much as Tubbo wanted to reveal his secret and gush about how thrilling it'd been, he made a promise to himself; not to tell a soul.

And he kept that promise, as the days, weeks and months eventually rolled by. His eyes would constantly drift to the snowy mountain top, where he swore he'd catch a glimpse of a figure, but when he looked again, it vanished. Torn between wanting to see them again and afraid of endangering his friends, he continued on with his work and pushed the memories to the very back of his mind. 

Until one fateful day. 

He'd been outside helping Phil carry some supplies back to the workshop, he wasn't exactly paying attention to their conversation, too distracted by the snowy peaks. Tonight would be an aurora borealis, the first ever since that day. It'd yet to appear, the sky wasn't dark enough yet, but soon.

"Tubbo, mate, are you listening?" Phil asked, his voice snapping Tubbo out of his thoughts. 

Tripping over a rock, he nearly toppled over and dropped the crates that towered over his head, but held a firm grip. "Yeah! Yeah, what were we talking about again?" He replies in a sheepish tone, tilting his head to see past the crates. Phil's unamused expression greeted him, an eyebrow raised.

With a sigh, Phil resumed walking. "You know, you haven't been the same since that day. Too jumpy and… quiet," he trails off, his voice lowering as they pass through a crowd of people. "You never did tell us what happened that day. Not even Wilbur, the one who caught you, knows what happened."

Exhaling slowly, his breath visualizing as mist, Tubbo's blood runs cold. "I told you," he answers in an annoyed tone, "I slipped. I would've died if Wil hadn't caught me, it just… scared me." Staring off into the distance again, he half-heartedly shrugs. He doesn't need to see Phil's expression to visualize the stern look staring back at him. 

Not a week goes by where he isn't questioned; Wil and Techno gave up a while ago, pretending to shrug it off and forget about it. They can't fool him, though, he can feel their eyes on him whenever he gazes at the cliffs, dusted in snow. They just don't have the guts to bring it up anymore, while Phil, on the other hand…

There it is, the sudden shift in atmosphere as Phil opens his mouth to continue. It's happened enough times that Tubbo can sense it happening, the dreaded conclusion. He can practically hear the words before they're spoken. 

"I know you, Tubbo. There are no 'slip ups', you're as skilled a climber as anyone. Something must have made you fall." Then, kicking up a bit of snow, Phil comes to a halt just a short distance away from their house and turns to Tubbo. "What did you see up there?"

Unsurprisingly, Tubbo avoids his gaze, the tower of crates shielding his face. Dull eyes stare aimlessly at the assortment of cliffs and frosted boulders, trailing up the mass until reaching the very top where a shadowy silhouette stands. It causes him to drop the crates without a second thought, supplies spilling out of one as the lid pops open.

"Tubbo?"

It isn't his imagination. Teetering on the edge of a cliff is a human-like silhouette, aside from the distinct wings, horns and tail. Not distinct enough to tell whether it's Ranboo or Tommy due to the distance, but it's one of them, staring directly at him even though he can't make out any facial features.  

And then, leaning forward ever so slightly, they fall. 

"Tubbo!"

Phil's shouting falls on deaf ears, his hand just missing Tubbo's as he breaks into a wild sprint, forcing his way through the crowd. He shouts apologies mixed in with profanity as he brute forces it, until finally, he's through. 

He knows what he saw; that wasn't a take-off. Whoever that was, Tommy or Ranboo, didn't open their wings and soar back into the air. No, like a rag doll they dropped off the edge of a cliff, a fall that no human could survive. A dragon, let alone a hybrid? He can only pray.

Taking a sharp right, he veered away from the streets of houses and into the wilderness, snow crunching beneath his feet. Now, there is a chance it isn't Tommy or Ranboo, but an entirely different dragon hybrid; a friend of theirs, perhaps, but a threat to him. With that in mind, Tubbo picks up a long, jagged tree branch, and cautiously approaches the mountains.

Pushing aside tree branches and stepping over shredded logs, he searches for the body of someone, anyone. Whether friend or foe, anyone would be hurt or at least dazed after a fall like that. 

Soon, he finds an empty clearing a short distance from the mountains. Bare footprints lead to claw marks carved into a crooked tree. Tubbo lets his guard down momentarily, and runs his hands over the marks, which couldn't have been caused by a human; not a full-blooded one, at least. 

A twig snaps. 

Not daring to glance over his shoulder, Tubbo bolts. He scrambles over tree logs and through the snow, making it impossible for a silent escape. He runs as his legs will take him, deeper into the small collection of trees you could hardly call a forest; but it feels like it goes on for miles. 

Taking a poorly calculated risk, he turns around and draws his tree branch as a weapon. A black mass weaves through the trees, hardly making a sound as it draws closer, yet is still unidentifiable. Even when it's right in front of Tubbo, scaly hand reaching out, it's actions are too quick for Tubbo to register.

And then, he sees it; long claws mere inches from his neck. His eyes trail up the hand, covered in deep red scales, and a sense of relief washes over him. "Oh, thank god it's just…" 

It dries up in the snap of a finger. He almost doesn't recognize Tommy; his ocean blue eyes are darker than he remembers, his pupils are thinly slit like silver daggers, digging into Tubbo's heart. By god, this is the most terrifying thing he has seen… 

But suddenly, it isn't. Despite the way Tommy's face contorts inhumanly, and the claws that could easily pierce Tubbo's skin, the fear is replaced by concern. Tommy's large wings, the same deep red with spikes, are damaged. It took Tubbo a second to notice, due the blood mostly blending in with the scales.

Like that, other injuries become apparent. Half of his right horn is broken off, and some spikes are missing from his wings. No wonder he couldn't fly, blood gouges from his wings like a waterfall, creating a small pool at their feet. 

Tubbo stares deep into Tommy's soulless eyes, fuelled by nothing. Tommy's hand slumps, resting on his shoulder instead. Whether intentionally or not; claws dig into his shoulder, but can't pierce the heavy jacket. 

It happens so quickly, if he blinked he would've missed it. Tommy's eyes drift close, his pupils returning to normal size, before closing completely. His hand slips from Tubbo's shoulder, too fast for him to grab, and in the blink of an eye; Tommy's unconscious on the ground, laying in a pool of his own blood.

Oh, this isn't good. He has to carry a whole ass dragon hybrid back to the village, undetected. It'd be better if he lived alone, but... 

Fuck.

This isn't how he planned on spending the day. God knows where Ranboo is; either equally as hurt or seeking out Tommy as they speak. Except Tommy hasn't woken up, his tail dragging against the snow, leaving a long snake-like trail. Tubbo's used to carrying heavy things; he's a blacksmith, he carries crates and crates of metal and other things, but Tommy weighs a ton.

So much so, that twenty minutes have passed and Tubbo is only now nearing the town. It doesn't help that he has to take the long way around, a secret path through the trees that he can barely get Tommy through without him hitting his head. 

Too bad if he wakes up with a headache; he should be grateful Tubbo helped him at all. He could've left him there to bleed out, slowly slipping into the light whilst laying in a pool of his own blood. Which, Tubbo needs to point out, is all over him now. On his fur-lined coat, matching brown pants, even his boots are stained. If there's one thing he knows about blood, it's not coming off.

It's likely that as soon as Tommy wakes up, he'll dart to the exit. So, Tubbo will have to tend to his wounds in any way he can before that happens, and judging by his lack of responsive behaviour, he has plenty of time.

After nearly thirty minutes of dragging Tommy through the snow, which has ultimately ruined his posture, they've reached the back of his house. 

"You owe me for this," Tubbo grumbles, shifting Tommy onto a different shoulder to fumble with the lock. It's beyond rusty and somewhat frozen, to the point where he's not sure if it'll even open. "Oh, come on!" 

In his struggle, Tommy quietly slides off his back and collapses to the ground. The sudden thud startling Tubbo, he jumps and hits his head on the doorframe. By then, he's well had enough. "That's it, I'll come up with an excuse later," he grumbles, and with no hesitance at all, raises his arm to break off the lock; but stops himself.

Instead, he uses the end of Tommy's tail as a key; when that doesn't work, he uses the tail to break the lock, which works just as well. The door creaks open, revealing the basement used as a storage, filled to the ceiling with unopened and empty crates. "Come on, big man." Throwing Tommy over his shoulder once more, he stepped inside. "Watch your head." 

In the corner are stairs leading up to the first floor, and originally, Tubbo planned on sneaking him up to his room; but a second thought comes to mind. 

Closing the door behind him, a trail of blood has followed him all the way here. A deep, crimson red, he reluctantly pays it no mind and props Tommy up against some crates. Far from comfortable, but it's better than laying on the cold, dirty ground. 

"You awake yet?" Tubbo asks, testing by pulling at Tommy's cheeks, and flicking his forehead among other things. None give him any sort of reaction, but his heart is still beating; rather faintly, though. A human being would be dead after this much blood loss, but he's still kicking.

First things first; he needs to stop the bleeding. With nothing on hand, he has no other choice but to abandon Tommy and head upstairs. 

He slips off his coat, which is ruined far beyond repair, but still decides to drape it over Tommy. Removing his boots, he's stuck with the same pair of pants and bloodied hands, the blood too dry to wipe off. He'll just have to work with it.

Without a second to waste, he braces himself and climbs up the old stairs, which creak under his weight. Slowly, the door opens and he pokes his head out, surveying the area before quietly entering and closing the door behind him, utterly aware of Techno leaning against the wall, unamused.

All it takes is a simple clearing of his throat to make Tubbo jump ten feet into the air. 

"Fuck!" He screams, clinging to the door for dear life. Out of the trio, Techno had to be the worst possible option. Wilbur was fussy and stubborn at times, but if he managed to change the topic and distract him just long enough, it'd be fine. Phil is smarter, he won't let it go that easily; but if Tubbo acts nervous and scared enough, it'll guilt-trip him and then all he has to do is come up with a believable excuse or ride it out.

Neither tactics worked for Techno, however. Every time he's been caught by Techno, it doesn't matter if he convinced Phil and Wil beforehand, he's screwed. Without fail, Techno sees through him like glass, uncovering every little secret. 

But this is different. He isn't at risk of being grounded or owing Techno a debt, Tommy's life is literally on the line and unless he thinks of something, fast, this won't end will for either of them. Phil undoubtedly told them about his little detour, which could explain why Wilbur and Phil aren't present.

"Uh, what's that?" As to be expected, the first thing Techno brings up is the blood; or paint. It could be paint, right? No, it's far too dark and a weird shade. Where would he even find paint? There's not a single artist in the entire village. 

Think, Tubbo, think. 

"I, uh… it's blood."

He would've laughed at Techno's expression if not given the dire situation. Still, he has to admit, watching the colour drain from his face is too funny.

"It's what?!"

Taking in a deep breath, Tubbo lowers his head and sighs. Removing his hands from behind his hand, he stares at his feet. "I… found an injured deer near the mountains, in the forest. I, uh, tried to nurse it back to life ─ which was stupid of me, I know. But I, it…" 

If there's one thing Techno has the heart for, aside from his own family; it's animals. From accidentally raising groups of wolf pups from nursing an injured polar bear that one time, every animal; whether big or small, loves him. Wilbur has his guitar and singing, Phil is the best swordsman in town, Tubbo has his blacksmith… and Techno has his animals.

Tubbo resists grinning when he sees Techno face fall, he doesn't even bother to question why Tubbo ran off in the first place and found himself near the mountains. Instead, he deeply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Oh, Tubbo…" 

"Where's Phil and Wilbur?"

"Out looking for you, even though I told them you'd come back on your own," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Go in the bathroom and get cleaned up before they come home. Where's your coat?"

Lowering his head again, Tubbo fumbles with his hands and cracks a sheepish smile. "Well, it…"

Luckily, it clicks. "Oh, god. Nevermind, just ─ hurry up," he turns away and gestures to the stairs, leading up to the bathroom.

Letting a grin slip, Tubbo wastes no time running up them and responds a little too eagerly. "Thanks!"

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't." 

Tubbo makes a bee-line to his bedroom, changing into a new pair of clothes and then darts into the bathroom, quickly scrubbing the blood off his hands. Searching the cabinet for medical supplies, he finds a fair bit. Grabbing bandages, alcohol among other things, he stuffs as much into his pockets and under his coat, then bolts downstairs. 

Guessing that Phil and Wilbur will be home in about twenty minutes, he needs to hurry. However, to his horror, his old coat is left discarded on the floor and Tommy is nowhere to be found. A trail of blood leads behind some crates, but Tubbo doesn't follow it.

Swiftly turning on his heel, Tubbo throws a roll of bandages, hitting Tommy directly in the face; stopping him dead in his tracks. 

"It's me, you idiot! Tubbo!" He shouts, taking a few steps back. There's no way Tommy doesn't remember him, right?

Tommy's balance wavers, he sways side to side, then leans against a tower of crates for support. "Where the hell am I?" He sneers, holding his head.  

"In my house, basement more specifically," Tubbo answers, then quickly explains the situation. "I found you at the bottom of the mountain unconscious, either I left you there to bleed out or… I brought you here."

Tommy's in no condition to argue, he opens his mouth to speak but can't get the words out. Slumping against the crates, which are now stained with his blood, he tries to move forward, taking one small step at a time.

From what Tubbo can see, his wings are injured, but there could be more wounds hidden away. Considering how much blood he's losing, it's likely. 

Tubbo contemplates his next words with great hesitance. It's been months since their last encounter, and they aren't exactly friends; hell, he nearly died by Tommy's hands, or at least would've gotten fatally injured. He seems to have calmed down now, barely having the strength to walk, but… 

"What are you standing around for? Are you going to help me or not?" Tommy snaps, his voice vulgar, but there's fear in his eyes. He's minutes away from collapsing again, and this time, he might not wake up. 

So, pushing down his fears and future regrets, Tubbo begins unrolling the bandages. "If you promise not to scratch my eyes out, yeah." 

There's a first time for everything; first sword, first adventure, but most importantly; first time flying with dragon hybrids and now, tending to one. He's unsure whether his siblings and father would be proud at what he's accomplished by accident, or utterly mortified by what he's experienced. Honestly, he feels both.

He doesn't have too much experience with treating wounds, he's typically the one being treated. Like that one time Wilbur tended to his burn wounds after an incident with the furnace, or when he sprained his ankle by falling from a tree and Techno carried him home. He did help Phil after his fight with… well, whatever he encountered in those woods that day, but that had been more of a team effort.

"Ow! Gentle, will ya?"

"Stay still."

Every step is taken with caution, gently dabbing alcohol with a cotton ball. It's not long before he gets the hang of things, handing Tommy a few painkillers; which he's wary of, then bandaging the wounds. Admittedly, some require stitching, and while he has steady hands from being a blacksmith; it isn't something he wants to risk. 

There's nothing he can do about the missing horn, either, or the spikes; though that shouldn't matter too much. Still, he applies a bit of alcohol to disinfect the area. "How you feeling, boss man?" 

Tommy hums, and says nothing more, his eyes panning over the rather dull basement. A minute passes and he asks, "what's with all the crates?"

Without missing a beat, Tubbo replies; "Supplies. I'm a blacksmith, I work with metal, diamond, and all sorts of ore to create weapons. Other things, too, but mainly weapons."

Tommy shifts uncomfortably, humming. Hunching his shoulders, he rests a hand on his shoulder.

Oh, the thought almost slipped Tubbo's mind. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" Too preoccupied by the visible injuries, which were nowhere near large enough to cause such blood loss, he forgot to check elsewhere. Tommy never brought it up. 

Seconds pass without a word. Only a huff as Tommy turns further away.

"Tommy."

"Fine, fine!" Not wanting to argue, Tommy slipped out of his red jacket and undid the yellow (ribbon-like material) around his waist, leaving him in a loose white top that he also took off. Upon first glance, Tubbo believed the weird markings on his skin were scars, but they were more similar to freckles, or moles. Where there weren't layers of red scales, white freckles resembling stars littered his skin, and then, there were the scars, which Tubbo wishes were birthmarks. 

Like someone had sliced into a star, the scars; mostly jagged or straight, thin lines, were a milky white, as clear as snow. Sealed and healed, they clashed with the opening, bleeding wounds nestled between scales and old scars. It threw him off guard, causing him to stumble back. 

  The words slipped past his lips, a trembling whisper. "What the fuck happened to you?"

Seeing how some of Tommy's claws were cut unevenly, or straight up missing, he didn't want an answer. He expects his eyes to be narrowed; a warning not to press any further, his pupils slit and freezing Tubbo in place. Instead, they're half-lidded and… tired.

"Ranboo's gonna be looking for me," he murmurs, slurring a little. Lifting himself up and off the crates, he focuses the last of his energy into balancing; not bothering to stand upright. Holding onto crates for support, a few topple over and crash onto the stone ground with an echoing thud. 

Albeit night, it isn't nearly late enough for the streets to be empty. He'll be caught minutes, seconds even after he steps foot out the door. 

It'd be safer to let him go, turn a blind eye to whatever cruel fate life hands him. They aren't friends, but for whatever reason, Tubbo grabs his shoulder. "Wait! You can't go out there, they'll see you. It's too dangerous."

But where else is he meant to go?

Thoughts swirl around his head, trying to convince him otherwise; let the boy go and have him do the rest on his own. He'll be fine, probably; he's no human, the blood of a dragon will keep him alive. But he's lost so much, there's hardly any left to keep him going.

Tubbo regrets the following words before he says them, and he can't believe they came out of his own mouth. No one takes him for a fool, in fact, he's one of the most intelligent people in the village. What most people don't know is that his heart often outweighs his intellect. 

"You can… stay here, with me."

In other words; he's made the worst decision of his life. 

Chapter Text

It's safe to say that Tubbo has royally screwed up. Even if Tommy stays inside the cluttered basement which is rarely used, there's no way this can work out in his favour. The logical choice would be to send Tommy back out, shoo him away; but he's far too wounded. He knows that he'll be tackled and shot, chained and thrown away if someone simply catches a glimpse of his wings and tail; and he knows that, too.

The words slipped out before the thought could properly register in his brain, but there's no going back. Part of him hopes that Tommy denies the offer, even if it's just for tonight. There's no reason for him to endanger himself for a stranger, but it's for one who's practically extinct. 

Tommy's wounds won't be healed by tomorrow night. It's either stay here and risk being caught and killed, or go outside and risk the same things. At least, if he stays inside, he has Tubbo on his side. Right?

"How do I know you won't rat me out?" Tommy sneers, snarling to reveal rows of sharp teeth, which could easily pierce through skin. 

"If I wanted you dead," Tubbo pauses, and glances at the door leading outside, "I would've let you leave." 

Tommy glances over his shoulder, and silently contemplates. All the while Tubbo stands frozen in place, one wrong move could end his life. But if Tommy lays one finger on him, then he'll have the whole village after him, haunting his every wake. They won't stop until they find him. Neither are quite where they want to be.

Tubbo is the first to speak, breaking the silence. "You can stay here until tomorrow night, then, when everyone is asleep, you can sneak out," he suggests, carefully taking one, two steps forward, and freezes again. He waits for a reaction, Tommy's back turned to him.

Finally, Tommy sighs. Running a hand through his hair, strands stained red and sticky, the look he gives Tubbo is heart-stopping, quite literally. His eyes illuminate a faint glow, something that'll haunt Tubbo for the rest of his days. "Fine… just until tomorrow night."

Just as Tubbo releases his breath, it hiccups in his throat. In the blink of an eye, the spade-end of Tommy's tail digs into his jugular, sharp, but not pressing hard enough to draw blood. "But if you try anything, you're dead. Got it?" 

Too afraid to nod his head or speak, Tubbo shakily gives a thumbs up and smiles sheepishly. Oh Thor, don't let his siblings discover his dead body. 

Humming in satisfaction, Tommy removed his tail and panned over his surroundings, unimpressed. "So, am I really meant to sleep down here?" He asks, kicking one of the open crates, which topples over and spills iron ingots. He leans against another, but instead of metal, it contains Wilbur's old, discarded clothing.

An idea crosses Tubbo's mind as he hurries to examine the clothes. "Actually… we could try something else." Smirking, he holds up a long, black cloak. 

Tommy physically recoiled, fear clear as day on his face. "I… don't think I like where this is going." 

Tubbo quickly got to work, and although fashion wasn't his forte; especially the strange kind Wilbur wore, he got the hang of it. Cutting away and folding over, he made a couple adjustments to the outfit, which Wilbur wouldn't miss anyways, nor recognize after he's done with it. Tommy occupied himself by searching crates for more clothings, but mainly found gold ingots among other things.

Until he came across something peculiar. Not old clothes, or metal. He rummaged through and pulled out a dusty photograph. It featured Tubbo sitting with his brothers and father, who proudly stood beside a woman dressed in all black. It took a second for him to recognize Tubbo, who had to be eleven or something. "Hey! Is your family?" He asked, holding up the framed photograph. 

"Don't touch that!" Tubbo shouted, dropping his tools, he ran over and smacked the photograph out of Tommy's hand, causing it to smash against the floor. He quickly picked it up and flinched. A crack ran down the centre, right over the woman's face. Silently, he placed it back inside the box and closed it back up. "Just… forget you saw anything. Come look at this."

Turning his back to Tommy, he walked back to his station and showed off the outfit. Tommy approached in awe, his jaw agape. He wasted no time trying it on. It consisted of a brown leather vest over a black shirt, fastened with a brown belt above the waist. His wings slid through the slits on the back and were concealed by a black cloak that nearly touched the floor. 

Black gloves concealed his claws and scales, and a touch of Techno's makeup masked some scales on his face. Unfortunately, there's nothing they can do about his eyes. They're too… animalistic, but shouldn't be too detectable from afar. As long as he keeps his distance from everyone, it'll be fine. Aside from that, the horns were the trickiest part. Tubbo rummaged through a pile of both newly made and discarded helmets, but none fitted properly. 

"This is no use… your horns are a dead giveaway," Tubbo mumbled, tossing aside another helmet. Before he could throw away another, the horns atop the helmet caught his attention, they closely resembled the ones on Tommy's head. "On second thought… I have another idea."

Tommy grimaced at the revelation, but had no choice but to comply. He observed Tubbo hard at work, shaping a helmet of his own making. The sparks and hisses from the glistening flames were mesmerising, it had Tommy locked into a trance. When it'd spitter and hiss, he'd respond with a similar sound. "How do we create this without our help? Fire came from us. "

Tubbo merely shrugged, not taking his eyes off the metal between his tongs. "Humans are smart. We figured out how to recreate it." 

Smithing, as Tommy learned, was a long and tiring process, yet Tubbo's focus never wavered. Even when he would knock over crates in the background and disrupt the peaceful silence, Tubbo didn't bat an eye. Nothing he could do would break Tubbo's concentration. So, he laid on the crates, waiting for the helmet to be finished when a loud, hissing sound filled his ears. 

"Get down!" He screamed, tail shooting up and wings spreading wide open, he leaped off the boxes and attempted to soar towards Tubbo, but an invisible force struck him down. He crashed into the ground and rolled into a tower of boxes, thankfully empty, which fell on top of him. 

"What the hell?" Tubbo shrieked, dropping the helmet into the water, he ran to Tommy and helped him to his feet. "What was that about?! You're gonna rip open your wounds."

They were close enough to friends, at the very least allies, and yet Tubbo caught his breath and his whole body tensed when Tommy squeezed his shoulder, only to wheeze. "That hissing, I… I thought it was a hostile dragon. It sounded so, so much like a dragon." 

Tubbo sighed, but when he tried to gently remove Tommy's hand, he wouldn't let go. The claws were chipped and therefore shorter, but still sharp. "It's fine," he reassured, "it was the helmet cooling off. Not a dragon. Trust me, no dragon would make it this far into the village." 

Tommy's grip tightened, before his arm fell limp by his side. "But I'm here."

Tubbo's chuckling ceased. He opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut before a single word could come out. "What happened to you?" He so desperately wants to say, but knows he won't get a solid answer. The injuries run deep, enough that stitches are required. What could've done this to him? No way a human did, or else they would've told the whole village by now. Another dragon? 

Ensuring Tommy could stand on his own, and that his wings weren't bleeding, he resumed his work. Thankfully, the helmet wasn't ruined, and his effort paid off.

"Here… try this on." The golden helmet stood out from the rest, due to the two gaping holes which were just the right size for Tommy's horns to slot through. Now, his outfit was complete, and didn't look too bad. With this, he could blend in with the village, but it's better to be safe than sorry. "There, what do you think?"

Tommy looked himself up and down, all his features except his horns were hidden from sight. The fabric was quite comfortable, especially the soft fur around his neck, attached to the vest. He flexed his hands, the claws poked against the ends, but aside from that fit nicely. No one would suspect a thing, at first glance at least. As long as he kept the gloves, helmet and cloak on, he'd be fine. 

"Now, because this isn't a hundred percent foolproof, you can't wear this everywhere. Okay? I'm still not sure about you stepping outside in the first place, even with this on..." Tubbo contemplated, circling Tommy to make sure he didn't miss anything. Thankfully, everything appeared in order.

About to adjust the helmet, a booming voice called from inside. "Tubbo! Where are you?" 

It made his blood run cold. He began murmuring curses under his breath and paced back and forth, hands entangled in his hair. His family had completely slipped his mind, how long has he been down here? An hour, two, possibly three? Of course Phil and Wilbur would be home by now. "Fuck! Okay, you need to stay here and─"

The following words died in his throat. He had never seen anyone more terrified than Tommy in that moment, he subconsciously grabbed his shoulders so he wouldn't bolt out the door. "Look at me, bossman," he whispered, even though he already was, with such terror reflected in his eyes. "You're not going to die. You are going to stay down here while I go up there, and I promise to be back as soon as possible, alright? Won't even notice I'm gone."

As hard as he tries, he can't stop his voice from trembling. His mind races with fleeting thoughts, what if someone comes down here and finds him? Will Tommy fight back, undoubtedly winning, or will he flee? 

"Tubbo!"

Tommy shrugs him off and it's obvious how desperately he tries to mask his fear. He takes a step back and releases his breath, his shoulders slumping. "What are you waiting for?" He asks, jerking his head towards the door leading inside. "Hurry up, or you'll get us both caught." 

Not wasting anymore time, he heads inside, leaving Tommy alone in the basement, sitting with his back pressed against some crates and wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess. And more importantly, how he was meant to get out. 

Tubbo knew by just the sound of Phil's voice that his family were not happy. He reluctantly closed the door behind him, locked it, and then faced his family who stood before him. As expected, none were pleased; even Wilbur, who always had a smile on his face and constantly cracked jokes, had his arms crossed and glared at Tubbo. He'd cross a line he had been unaware of, and it'd take a lot to fix this.

"So, mate," Phil broke the silence, his reaction the worst of all. Time and time again he'd been generous and forgiving, the right amount of strictness. But he wouldn't be let off the hook this time. "Mind telling us where you were?"

What is he meant to say? That he saw someone fall off the side of a mountain and he ran to their aid, or that the said person is a dragon hybrid who is currently residing in their basement, fearing for his life? His family may be a civilised and well-meaning bunch, but even they won't hesitate to draw their weapons. After all, dragons have gone down in history for killing hundreds, thousands even and wreaking chaos across the land. A hybrid with their features and bloodlust is no different, whether half human or not. 

Even if they are kinder than he may think, he can't give them the benefit of the doubt. At the cost of an innocent's life. 

"I…" his eyes flicker to Techno, who leans over the staircase railing. He silently pleads for help, even if it leads him into debt and owing a favour or two. It'll be worth it, and Techno, sensing the opportunity, straightens his posture. 

"He was training, with me."

Similarly to how he is a blacksmith and Wilbur plays guitar, Techno is an infamous fighting coach, trained in nearly all forms of combat, but most confidently a sword and axe. Every weekday he spends his early mornings and afternoons training both the children and adults of their village, and he's been doing so for years and years. Tubbo rarely joins him, but most often is too preoccupied by his job. 

"Training? With you?" Wilbur echoes, turning to Techno as he comes down the stairs. Who quickly sends a look Tubbo's way and nods, initiating their deal and agreement. He stands beside Tubbo, expression blank and hands neatly folded behind his back. 

"That's right. We were training with the rest of the village, as per usual. You can ask anyone in the village for a testimony," he states, and Tubbo awes at his ability to speak flatly while lying through his teeth. Something he'll have to learn. 

Wilbur is convinced, but Phil steps forward, completely ignoring Techno. "That doesn't explain why you suddenly ran off."

Techno can't help with this one. Tubbo lowers his head in defeat, wracking his brain for any kind of excuse, but alas, his mind is empty. "I…" 

There's no better excuse than the truth.

He lets his voice waver and shake, his hands balling into fists. "I… swore I saw somebody atop the mountain. Looking back on it, it might've just been a trick of the light but… I'm sure that I saw somebody fall over the edge, and so I… I ran to check on them."

He internally smirks, feeling the tension in the air shift. Techno will be suspicious, since he didn't give the same story; but it wouldn't work on Phil and Wilbur. If he has caught on, which is likely, the confrontation will come later. 

"Did you…" Phil trails off.

Tubbo shakes his head. "No, just… blood. No animal, or person to be found."

It sure worked on Wilbur, who visibly flinched and tensed up at the mere mention of blood. And then, the cherry on top, he noticed the odd stains on his clothing and he watched the colour drain from his face. Nudging Phil, he leaned closer and whispered something in his ear, and then, he saw it too. With that, the battle had been won.

"Are you… sure about what you saw?" He asks, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut tight. "The blood could just be from an animal. I highly doubt it came from a person. If someone went missing, everyone would know." 

Tubbo nods. He's right, they have a close-knit community and if one isolated thing happens, in the matter of seconds the whole village will know everything. Anything from a missing person or a minor secret, gossip that spreads like wildfire. 

Feigning guilt, he looks off to the side with a visible frown across his face. "Right. Must've been my imagination."

Phil rests a hand on his shoulder and he has fallen to his knees, right into his trap and he can't feel bad, not an ounce of guilt present in his chest. Because if he ever had a reason for lying to his family, to his adoptive father, this is it. They'd understand, or maybe they wouldn't, that's why he's lying in the first place. 

Phil's response is delayed, the silence hanging heavy above his head. Tubbo chooses to ignore it. "It's fine, no big deal. Just, next time, warn me before you go running off, alright?" He strains an almost genuine smile, but it's pitiful. "Why don't you just… relax for now? Take a break from your work." He gently punches his shoulder, and he smiles back.

He almost says yes. Working day after day is tiresome, rarely getting a break to spend with his family; it's either quality family time, or relaxing in solitude or doing something on his own for once, something he enjoys. It's not fair, their village rarely participates in wars and are isolated from other villages or tribes, and yet he has a hoard of helmets and weapons piling up, among an endless supply of materials. The idea of a break makes him sigh out loud, but he can't.

His hand reaches for the doorknob, and he unlocks it. "Thanks but… I'm okay. I still have lots of work to do, can't stop now." Unlike his previous remarks, this is far from a lie. "I'll be finished in an hour or so, though. Just in time for dinner."

Dinner was an hour ago, he later realised. Phil and Wilbur spent well over an hour searching the whole village for him, and didn't find a single trace of his whereabouts. He can't help but wonder, did their stomachs feel with dread as their surroundings darkened and the northern lights faded out of existence? Were they terrified to come home, or did they experience bliss, that their adoptive son and brother was finally out of their perfect lives. 

  "I'll get started on dinner!" Wilbur announces, a horrific revelation, due to his poor, almost horrid cooking skills. Yet he seemed determined, and bolted to the kitchen before anyone could stop him. "I'll make your favourite, beef stew!"

Tubbo doesn't have the heart to tell him that after all these years, his favourite isn't beef stew, it's not even close. Instead he watches Phil run after him and try to convince him to change his mind, lying that they ran out of required ingredients, only for Wil to find them in the pantry and freezer.  

Techno, however, stays right beside Tubbo's side. "It's fine, you can tell me the story later," he says, the slightest smile curving the corner of his mouth. He ruffles Tubbo's hair and when he walks away, walking upstairs to avoid the chaos brewing in the kitchen, a weight is lifted off Tubbo's shoulders and chest. One he'd been unaware of.

Peering inside the kitchen, Phil and Wilbur are distracted over arguing, and Techno has left his sight, likely retreating to his room. The coast clear, he quietly sneaks into the basement and closes the door behind him with a click. "Hey, Tommy─" he covers his mouth, sniffling a laugh. 

Laying on top of the crates, in the most uncomfortable position he has ever seen, Tommy sleeps soundly. His cloak discarded, his tail and bandaged wings wrapped around him like a blanket, but surely that can't be enough. Tubbo snuck back inside, and shortly returned with an old blanket from his bed, a red matching his scales.

Tip-toeing across the room, narrowly avoiding towers of crates, he makes his way over to Tommy and drapes the blanket over his body. It doesn't cover him entirely, but it's good enough. Tubbo stumbles back at the smallest sign of movement, bumping into some crates behind him.

Tommy tucks his legs under the blanket, curling into a ball. He continues to snore, weakly clawing at the crates beneath him. With that, Tubbo leaves him be. 

"Sleep tight, Toms," he whispers, but as he's about to open the door and exit, he hears Tommy muttering to himself. At first, he assumes he's woken up, or that it's pure gibberish, but he's able to make out a few words that chill him to the bone. 

"Run, run as… keep going… please."

His body begins trembling, and his claws dig deeper into the crates' surface, peeling it. "Don't, don't!" He shouts, his wings spreading open and sending the blanket flying, it lands at Tubbo's feet. Slowly, his body relaxed and he laid back down, his wings folding in, but he wouldn't stop trembling. 

After wondering whether he should wake him up from this nightmare, Tubbo picks up the blanket and slowly walks towards him. Reluctantly, he drapes the blanket back over his body and hesitates to step back. Should he…?

Soon enough, his breathing reverts to a steady pace and his body eases. Tubbo waits a little longer, just in case, but Tommy doesn't say anything else. Just snores and low growls. 

Friends or simply strangers, no harm will come to him… Tubbo wants to promise that, but whispers in the back of his head say otherwise. After all, when it eventually comes to choosing between saving himself and him, it's obvious who will survive. As much as he wants to deny it, there's only so much he can do.

Dragons and humans aren't meant to be friends. Fate decided that long ago, and who is he to rewrite history? No more than an indecisive young boy, with too many choices held above his head. 

But he's all that Tommy has. And to him, that's enough.

Chapter Text

The beastly forest basks in moonlight, in the dead of night it grants security. Other nights, Tommy would happily bathe in the gentle blue light and fall asleep to the sounds of nature, or he'd stay up late and dance, or explore things already discovered. Tonight is different, however, because he is running as fast as he can as a monstrous beast pursues him, unfazed by the logs and lakes in its way. It maintains a close distance, and he can feel it breathing down his neck, scorching his skin.

He doesn't know where Ranboo is, nor does he dare check behind him. He just keeps running as fast as he can, until he finds an exit or his legs give in, whichever one comes first. He thinks he knows which fate he'll be dealt, but he doesn't want to believe it. He denies it a little longer and pushes himself to keep going, until his very last breath. If that doesn't kill him, the beast will.

So he runs and he runs, but he doesn't appear to be going any further. His surroundings are all the same; looming trees overhead, heads blocking out his moonlight glory and last ray of hope. Sticks and stones, logs and lakes, it's all the same. 

A root catches his foot, and drags him down. He tumbles forward and his wings scrape against the ground, already burnt and sore, now ten times worse. Rolling onto his side, he desperately wants to take a breather, allow his lungs to breathe in air, but there's no time. 

There's no time, there's no time, there's no time.

He digs his chipped and bleeding claws into the damp soil and heaves, then drags himself to his feet. And he runs, as soon as he can feel it breathing down his spine; the intense, burning heat, he bolts. All there is a narrow pathway, the corners of his vision blurred and his heavy breathing drowning out all sounds.

He wants to scream, either just nonsense or Ranboo's name, if he's still out there somewhere. But he does neither, and doesn't look anywhere but ahead. 

He can feel it inching closer, and closer, yet doesn't make a sound. He knows it's there and yet a tiny voice in the back of his head tells him to turn around and check, in case he's safe. He knows he's not, that it's right behind him and if he wastes even a second it'll be over. 

Yet he does it anyway. 

The fiery blaze blinds him, covering his vision, and he screams. 

And then he wakes up. His heart pounding in his chest and echoing in his eardrums, it takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He blinks a few times, then slowly, eases into a relaxed state. He isn't in the forest or anywhere near it, but Tubbo's home, or more specifically his basement.

He slowly lowers his gaze and realizes that Tubbo is asleep on the floor beside him, an utter mess with his hair in his face and wearing yesterday's clothes. How long has he been here? Surely not all night.

Subconsciously, his hand clings around something, his chipped claws sinking into whatever it is, and then he realizes; it's Tubbo's arm. He hasn't drawn any blood thanks to the thick material, but it's enough to send him screaming and tumbling backwards off the crates. He lands with a thunk, the helmet shielding his head. 

Despite the loud clattering of metal, Tubbo remains fast asleep, quietly snoring away. Tommy contemplates waking him up, is it morning yet? There's no windows, only two doors; one leading outside, the other inside the house. 

He adjusts his armour, which is heavier than he expected, and reluctantly approaches the first door. It creaks open and immediately, he's blinded by sunlight. Shielding his eyes with his arm, he peers outside. 

He doesn't see much, especially not any people. Just shrubbery… that forms a sort of hidden path, which wraps around the house and to the village. The village will be full of people, but Tubbo handmade this armour for that specific occasion. If he ventures outside… No one will recognize him for what he is, right? Or else Tubbo's hard work would've been for naught.

The thought makes him slink back into the garage, but he leaves the door open. Tubbo and him made a deal… He stays for just one night, and no longer. He wouldn't want to break a promise, and if he waits until Tubbo wakes up, he'll likely be kicked out.

It doesn't matter that his wounds aren't completely healed, he can manage. They don't hurt… that much. He should be able to fly, and if not, then he'll simply have to climb. 

"Ranboo's waiting," he mumbles to himself, and tears his eyes away from Tubbo. Taking a deep breath and straightening his posture, he steps outside. 

A cool wind blows, and he removes his helmet to cherish it. It gently combs through his hair and he briefly closes his eyes, living in the sunlight and nearby birds tweeting, but when he opens his eyes, he is disappointed. 

Sighing, he puts his helmet back on and closes the door behind him. Rose bushes and other flowers line the pathway, his favourite being hydrangea. He gently slides his finger across the soft buds as he strolls past, his fingers catching the leaves. So beautiful, they are. He can't help but pluck one, they'll lose their petals soon anyways, it's winter after all. 

He twirls the blue bud between his fingers and smiles, then raises his helmet slightly to slip it behind his ear. Most of the flowers have already begun to wilt, losing their pretty petals that'll return in warmer months, beginning anew. 

He doesn't know what to expect when he reaches the end of the path and comes face to face with the village, but it isn't… exactly what he finds. It's children playing in the snow and genuine, joyful laughter ringing out like wind chimes, smiles all around. It's loud chatter and streets full of people, which he will definitely stick out in. 

Quite a few people are wearing armour, but not all, especially children or teenagers his age. He's taller than the majority, however, so hopefully they don't bat an eye. All he needs to do is get through and make it to the mountains, he can see them from here. That's all he has to do, and he has plenty of time.

Though he would've preferred to leave at night or at least later than morning, Tubbo and he had a deal. And he is not a person to go back on deals of any kind.

He keeps his head up and ignores those around him, yet immediately apologizes to anyone he bumps into. He towers over the crowd and receives an entourage of strange looks and murmured comments, which he wishes he could block out, but keeps moving forward. Children stare and point, before they're pulled away by cautious parents.

Even with his features hidden, he sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Eventually, he finds a quiet resting place, away from commotion and people. It's by an old, closed down store that people walk past without batting an eye. There, he finds security and leans against the building, closing his eyes. 

Peace is short-lived, a chipper voice interrupts his moment of silence. "Now who might you be?" He asks, so casual yet startling. Tommy stumbles back and nearly loses his balance, clinging to the wall. It amuses the man, who wears a sly grin. "Sorry, did I startle you? It just caught me so off guard to see… someone dressed so fancy."

Tommy glares and straightens his posture, he's shorter than the man by a few inches. As he's about to speak, the unnamed man cuts him off. 

"You're obviously new, so what brings you here?" He asks, circling him. "It looks like you're prepared for some great war or something. Do you perhaps know something we don't?"

Tommy jumps away from him and bares his teeth. "Fuck off! I'm just passing through."

For one reason or another, he catches Wilbur off guard. It renders him stunned for a few seconds, and Tommy wishes it lasted for longer, or that he chose to depart during those short seconds. 

"Oh, you're a kid," is all Wilbur says.

And it is the easiest way to get his blood boiling. Sure, he may be a kid and ever so slightly shorter, but if he weren't so afraid of getting caught; he'd toss this prick through the air like a spear, straight to the other side of the mountain. This man is lucky, incredibly lucky. 

"I don't have time for this," he sneers and walks past, brushing shoulders with the unnamed man. 

"Aren't you going to tell me your name, at least? Oh fair traveller," the man muses once Tommy is a far distance away, and for whatever reason, he stops. He wastes a moment to genuinely ponder on it, and glances back at the man, with unruly brown hair and an instrument strapped to his back. And he grins, with his full row of fangs exposed. 

"Tommy," he answers, then departs without another word.

He doesn't hear back from the man, which is somewhat relieving, somewhat disappointing. No matter, they won't cross paths again; he won't see any of these people again. There's no reason to return here, it's too… much, is the only way he can describe it. If there were less people and they weren't so against his species, then perhaps.

But he did not come here on his own will.

He does get far before another inconvenience occurs. Keeping a low profile and hugging the walls, he grows closer to his destination and home, but not before passing through such an intriguing scene he had to bear witness to.  

A young man with pink braided hair demonstrated how to wield a sword to a crowd of twenty, maybe more. Tommy couldn't help but observe how fluent his movements were, effortlessly slicing at the air as if a real opponent opposed him, who would've struggled to keep up. One, two, then the finishing blow. Tommy could see the invisible opponent fall before his very eyes, defeated.

He's not sure how long he watched the man teach, far too long. His methods were beyond captivating, no wonder he had so many students; ranging from young children to elders, each surprisingly skilled. He thought he could watch them forever, and even began subconsciously copying his movements, though he had no weapon of his own.

Until all of a sudden, the man came to a halt and declared today's training session over, and it disappointed Tommy. However, fleeting fear replaced it when the students went their separate ways and their mentor began turning in his direction. Dragon or not, to be caught staring is embarrassing for anyone.

"And you are?" The man asks, tilting his head. He slides his sword back into its sheath at his hip, and despite the current predicament, Tommy's eyes were glued to the emerald on its hilt. Until the man cleared his throat, snapping him back to reality.

"Tommy!" The words fly out of his mouth, his arms strapped to his side and his back so straight that it hurts. "Uh, I was just… you looked so cool with that sword and uh…" 

The man hums, his cold expression piercing through Tommy like the sword he wields. "Tommy, huh, you're not from here, are you?"

The community is so large, yet everyone seems to know each other. Is it that he sticks out that much? Tubbo made this armour, he should blend right in. Is it all a trap? No, he wouldn't have spent so long making it just for a measly trick. These two just have… keen eyes.

"Uh… no, sir─"

"Techno." He takes one, two steps forward. Then looks him up and down. "And what are you here for?"

Just passin through, Tommy wants to say, but the words refuse to leave his mouth. Ranboo is waiting for him and is probably worried sick, that's what his heart says; but his mind says otherwise. There's no harm in staying a little longer, a couple more minutes can't hurt. Right? "Uh…"

Techno glances at his sword, and something clicks. "Oh, right. You want to train with me, don't you? I'm surprised you don't have a sword yourself," he says so casually, Tommy doesn't know how to respond. Not waiting for an answer, Techno walks over to the sword stands and retrieves one, then tosses it to Tommy, who scrambles to catch it.

The blade slices through one of his gloves, exposing scales on his palm, but he manages to catch it with his other hand. It's not a large cut, it's nothing to worry about, and didn't inflict any real injury. When he lifts his head, Techno is standing in front of him and draws his own sword. "Now, I don't have all day, so let's get this over with."

Sunlight sneaks in through the open door, it shines in Tubbo's eyes and stirs him awake. His movements sluggish, he slowly pries his eyes and feels his surroundings, cold floor and crates. " What time is it…" he mumbles, and doesn't receive an answer. 

Sitting up, he rubs his eyes. "Tommy?" Upon opening them, notices that the bed of crates beside him is unoccupied. 

He jumps to his feet and scans his surroundings, finding no hint of Tommy's whereabouts. Nothing is out of the ordinary, crates are stacked into tall towers and Tommy isn't hiding behind any of them, ready to pull a prank. After checking the entire basement, he realizes Tommy isn't here at all.

And then, he sees the door left wide open, swinging in the wind. Oh, right, they had a deal; he'd stay here for just one night. 

At the very least, he could've said goodbye or left a note of some kind; if he can write, that is. But alas, there's not a single trace of him, no evidence of him staying here in the first place. Tomorrow or a few hours from now, it'll feel like a fever dream, and he'll be forced to push this to the back of his mind. His family will think he's crazy, again. 

The quietest unexplained sound will set him on edge, and every day he'll be hoping to see him again, even just catch a glimpse of his shadowy figure that can be written off as something else. It could be days, weeks, months from now; even years, and it'll all come flowing back to him. 

Or maybe, this is it. 

Years from now, he'll be dancing atop a table in a tavern, exaggerating whimsical tales about meeting not one, but two dragon hybrids, and bumping into one twice. No one will believe his feverish dreams, about saving a dragon hybrid's life, only for it to vanish in the morning dew. That's all Tommy and Ranboo will become, old memories twisted into stories. 

He slugs up the stairs, and leans against the railing. Pushing open the door and making his way to the kitchen, he's greeted by Phil who's preparing breakfast, so it can't be that late. "Morning," he says while yawning, slumping on a chair.

Phil hums and hands him a plate of toast. "Morning, mind explaining why you slept in the basement?"

"Worked late, passed out," he answers between bites.

Phil sighs and shakes his head, but doesn't argue. If he were planning to, Wilbur interrupts him by entering through the front door, kicking the snow off his boots and guitar. Tubbo pays little to no attention to him, struggling to keep his eyes open and fight back a yawn. What Wilbur says next, however, shocks him right awake.

"Morning Tubs, Phil. You won't believe who I stumbled upon today," he greets and takes a seat at the table, slinging his guitar over the chair. Phil hums and slides him his plate of toast. "It was this weird kid in armour, never seen him before cause he's new! Says he's just passing by, probably on a quest or something," Wilbur rambles, taking a bite.

Now, the chances are slim, scarily close to zero and Tommy could have left anywhere from ten minutes to an hour ago. Either he's long gone, returned to his home atop the snowy peaks and resumed his secret life far from publicity, or he is still making his way there. 

And something tugging at his heartstrings, tells him to run and say goodbye. If this really is the last time they see each other, then that's the least he deserves. 

So, without thinking, he jumps to his feet, knocking the table and spilling over a glass of water. "I just remembered, there's someone I have to meet!" He blurts out, and darts to the door. Neither are fast enough to grab him, he slips out of their grasp and out the door before Phil can shout his name, and when the words leave his house, the door has already closed.

"Do you… want me to get him?" Wilbur quietly asks, slowly tearing his eyes away from the door. 

Phil collapses onto a chair and holds his head in his hands. "No, no…" he says after a delay, and raises his heavy head. "I give him space, time, but nothing's changing. There's something he won't tell me, or you, or Techno and I don't know why!"

Wilbur averts his gaze to the half-eaten slice of toast where Tubbo previously sat, and stands up, grabbing his guitar. "I'll go grab him," is all he offers, and waits for something in return, but Phil doesn't speak. His sullen face is enough. "I won't be long," he promises, and then, like Tubbo, leaves as well.

Phil doesn't move, even after the door closes behind Wilbur. He sits in silence, staring ahead but not actually seeing anything. "How did I ever think I could do this without you…" he mumbles, a silent prayer, and lowers his head in shame.

How did he, indeed.

Wilbur is fast, but Tubbo is quicker, especially since he isn't lugging a guitar around. His height also allows him to slip through small cracks in the crowd that act as barriers for Wilbur, and Tubbo doesn't isn't even aware he's being followed, but doesn't slow down.

A relatively large crowd has formed in the middle of the path, full of cheering. Curiosity gets the best of Tubbo and he takes a quick detour, squeezing through to catch a glimpse of the action.

A fight is happening, but not a drunken one or something that needs to be handled; it's a tame match between Techno "The Blade", and… Tommy. Who is doing fairly well, holding a sword of his own that he defends with more than attacks. He successfully dodges and blocks Techno's attacks, but that's all he's doing.

The people are cheering anyway, because it's been ages since someone challenged Techno to a fight, and even longer since someone's won. No one has lasted this long, not in a while, but if Tommy's helmet falls off or he loses his cape, he's screwed and there's nothing Tubbo can do to help him. Stopping the match here would cause suspicion, so all Tubbo can do is watch, and pray.

But he should've known, no one defeats "The Blade." Perhaps if it weren't for the armour and fear weighing him down, he would've easily overpowered Techno and put him in his place, but alas. Tubbo holds his breath as he stumbles and comes this close to losing his balance, yet somehow manages to dodge yet another strike. 

Then, leaning to the right to avoid a second blow, he swings his sword and─

His blade never touches Techno, stopping mere inches from his armoured chest. A hand over his own chest, he drops to one knee and Techno lands the finishing blow, the tip of his blade aimed at Tommy's neck.

To the oblivious crowd, Tommy fell due to exhaustion, or because of a secret technique Techno used that no one actually saw. That's what knocked him down and gave Techno the win, therefore ending their little match with neither injured.

The crowd erupts into cheers and clap, for their mighty king has won again. What else did they expect?

Shortly afterwards, the crowd departs, resuming their activities and leaving Tommy and Techno to themselves. Tubbo observes from a short distance, as Techno helps Tommy to his feet, who visibly winces and nearly loses his balance. He flashes Techno a strained smile, and then, from the corner of his eye, spots Tubbo.

"Tubbo?" And it's like they haven't seen each other in years, yet neither have changed one bit. Still, Tommy looks… different somehow. Tubbo brushes it off as the sunlight on his skin, giving it a certain glow that hides the scars and cuts that were so obvious in the dark. 

Techno interrupts this, moment of theirs, by stepping forward. "You two know each other?" 

The word 'no' almost falls from Tubbo's lips, foolishly enough. Reluctantly, he nods. "Yeah, he's…" he pauses, thinking back to Wilbur's statement. "We met earlier today."

Nodding at Tommy, he gestures to Techno. "Tommy, this is… my brother, Techno, and I know you already met my other brother, Wilbur." 

His expression is priceless. "That prick is your brother?!"

A snicker escapes him, and he wonders how the two met to give him such an opinion. He considers digging further, but Techno has beaten him to it, and the two converse as if he isn't there. 

"You, uh… looked hurt, when you let me win. You didn't pull a muscle or anything fighting me, did you?" Techno asks, and despite his question, his blank expression hardly changes, nor does the tone of his voice. 

Tommy chuckles, rubbing his arm. "As if! I barely broke a sweat. My muscles are just sore from traveling."

"And yet you still chose to challenge me."

"Hey, you handed me the sword."

"You looked like you wanted it."

This is… nice. He won't be the only one to remember Tommy, although Techno will reminisce on their short match and how close Tommy came to stealing his title, and Wilbur will sing about a strange boy in armour, who vanished in the blink of an eye. Their tales won't spread fear, or suspicions of how much they really know across the quaint village. They're much more… tame.

His thoughts come to a halt at the sound of approaching footsteps, and a sudden hand grabs his shoulder. In one swift movement, he grabs the opponent and throws them over his shoulder and slamming onto the hard ground. Only when he's face to face with the stranger, does he discover his mistake. "Wil?!"

"I forgot you don't like being snuck up on," he croaks between dry chuckles, and shakily stands. "I wanted to know where you were going, so…"

"You followed me," Tubbo finishes, deadpanning.

Wilbur grins. "Exactly." Turning around, he gasps at Tommy, and his grin widens. "Ominous armoured kid, hey!" He exclaims and slings an arm over Tommy's shoulder, who's pupils visibly shrink into slits, but only Tubbo seems to notice.

Techno clears his throat, stealing Tubbo's chance to speak. "As I was about to say," he goes on, standing opposite to Wilbur. "I know you said you're just passing through, but I don't think that's a good idea. There isn't another village for miles, and you look like you need a rest, seriously."

Tommy deadpans, then shrugs off Wilbur. "I'm fine! What do you mean I look tired, worn out? I'm perfectly fine!" 

Wilbur uses him as an arm-rest, a troubling grin curving his mouth. "Oh, come on! Stay with us for a bit. Surely you have plenty of stories to share if you've come all this way. We have plenty of taverns you can stay at," he offers, gesturing to his surroundings. Again, Tommy shrugs him off, a little rougher this time. 

"Like I said, no thanks…" he begins backing away, and collides with Tubbo. Without hesitancy, he tries to hide behind him, but easily towers over. 

In the heat of the moment, Tubbo says the first thing that comes to mind, and honestly wishes he hadn't. "He can stay at our place."

As he internally regrets his words, he's thankful for the looks of hesitation on his brothers' faces. The idea is… bizarre, admittedly. "We don't have a spare room."

If Tommy stays at a tavern, it increases the risk of him being found out. Though, if he stays at their place, while it also means any one of them could discover his secret; Tubbo is there to help and keep an eye on him. "He can sleep in my room!"

His heart lunges into his throat, yet pounds against his chest. He wonders if Tommy, cowering behind him feels the same overwhelming anxiety, as his gloved claws rest on his shoulders. He subconsciously holds his breath when Wilbur and Techno turn to each other.

They half-heartedly shrug. "Well, if you're sure…" 

Although relief fills his hollow chest and he internally sighs in relief, he is unsure this is the right decision. Tommy could've come up with more excuses and easily snuck away, discarding the village and retreating to the mountains in a haste. If he hadn't come up with an excuse for him, maybe he would've.

What did he get himself into.

Chapter Text

It is long before morning when Tommy awakes, quietly opening the basement's back door. It's much tamer down here, although snow covers the ground all the same and there's a cold breeze, it's gentler. Much more so, there's no howling winds to ease him asleep or a fire of his own making.  

The lit lantern above his head, containing a feeble, flickering flame is nothing in comparison. The mountains which he calls his home seem so far away, yet they are right outside. No one is awake at this hour, he can sneak past and…

He grunts as his knee buckles, and sinks his claws into the doorframe. Come morning, he'll have to dress himself in heavy armour which weighs on his wounds, but it is his only option. If he decides to stay, that is, but there's no reason why he would, on his own terms that is. 

No good will come from injuring himself further. As the saying goes; if a dragon bleeds, it dies. He briefly relishes in the cold, the wind blowing through his hair, he finds great comfort in its presence. Inside, the ground is hard and made of wood, whereas the snow is so soft and welcoming. He wants to lay in it forever, close his eyes and sleep. 

Alas, if someone were to find him armourless, laying in the freezing snow… it would not end well for him. So mustering his strength and taking one last long look at the moon hanging high above his head in the distance, calling for him to come back home, he shuffles back inside and closes the door with a click. 

For a while, he stands with his back to the door, knees buckling. He checks multiple times for blood, and although the searing pain is strong, he is fine; for now. The bandages do their best to keep him intact and breathing, but they can only do so much. 

The floorboards creaking beneath his feet, he drags himself upstairs. His eyes drifting close, he subconsciously leaves claw markings on the railing, deep grooves. Albeit not the quietest as he catches himself on the wall, he successfully makes it inside Tubbo's room, who is fast asleep, without any interference.

Propped on a stand is Tubbo's armour, and from the corner of his eye, it resembles a person. Moving on instinct, he swings his tail and knocks it over. Just as he realizes his mistake, it's too late, the armour stand hits the ground and the loud bang hurts his ears.

Again, acting in instinct he slides under Tubbo's bed, just barely fitting, and curls into a ball. Hands over his mouth, he waits as his heartbeat pounds in his ears, somewhat overshadowed by the approaching footsteps ascending the stairs. 

A presence enters the room. Each step is an explosion to Tommy's ears, the person who's only visible from the knees down carefully picks up the armour stand and brushes it off. They then take a look around the room, and finding nothing, retreat.

It's a miracle they let him sleep in the basement, where he could hide behind boxes if needed be. 

Above him, the bed squeaks and Tubbo's legs dangle. Instead of hopping off, he leans and stares at Tommy while upside-down. To him, Tommy's eyes glow vibrantly in the shadows, taking on a more animalistic appearance. "Hey, bossman, you alright?" 

Tommy tilts his head, anxiety washing off him, his heartbeat returns to a steady pace. "Boss… yeah, yeah I'm fine," he mutters and crawls out. Standing up, his wings unfold and hit Tubbo in the face, knocking him back. Moonlight filters in through the curtains, he basks in it. "When will I be able to fly again?"

Rubbing his face, Tubbo stands atop his head, the only way to properly reach his wings. He runs his hands over the bandages, receiving a low hiss from Tommy. "I'll have to replace them in the morning…" he says, biting back a yawn. Tommy flinches under his touch. Squinting, he sees faint outlines of blood. "Wow, you sure bleed a lot." 

Tommy lowers his wings and deeply sighs, head in his hands. "How long am I stuck here?" He scowls, plopping down beside the bed. "It was only supposed to be one night, and I still don't know where Ranboo is."

Long claws scratch at his scalp, fuzzy memories filling his mind. It halts when Tubbo places a hand on his shoulder. 

"Not much longer. You could leave now, but…" he trails off, removing his hand. "I doubt you know how to take care of wounds."

Tommy scoffs, tucking his knees to his chest. "Normally, it's the first hit that kills."

The knight that kills the dragon, one fell swoop that'll bleed, and bleed, even if the knight is successfully defeated. It'll go on and on, creating a blood moon lake described in fairytales of old. He knew them to be more than fantasy. Too many lay to rest under the moon at its peak. 

He knows Tubbo's next question before the words leave his mouth. "Do you─"

"You want to know more about dragons, or hybrids, right?" He tilts his head back, looking up at Tubbo. "Hatchlings leave the nest at an early age to form a flock of our own, that's how I met Ranboo, and eventually ended up coming here." He explains the most common fact, yet Tubbo's eyes widen in fascination. 

Tommy stumbles to his feet and chuckles, spreading open his wings. "Nothing would stand in our path, we explored the world!" He exclaimed, briefly forgetting to keep his voice down. He grinned from ear to ear and outstretched his hand, as if wielding a sword. "Taking whatever we wanted, we were princes!"

Forgetting as well, Tubbo laughs. "Princes, huh?"

Tommy lowers his arm and for a moment, just stands there. He speaks in a much lower tone, "yeah… princes. Had everything we could've wanted, and each other. Brothers, we're like! Not by blood, but bonds!"

Tubbo snickers, his eyes trailing to the scars lining Tommy's arms. His smile falters for a split second, and his heart skips a beat. "But you decided to stay here?"

His voice snaps Tommy out of his thoughts, he flinches and turns to Tubbo; eyes wide and mouth agape, speechless. Lowering his head, he combs through his hair. "Uh… yeah, yeah we did. We just needed a break, that's all. Between our first encounter and last, we did do a bit more traveling," he admits with a shrug.

"Travelling?" Tubbo's eyebrows raise and his posture straightens. He cracks a grin. "Oh, do tell."

Tommy opens his mouth, then closes it without a word. Glancing to the window and peeking through the curtains, the crescent moon hangs heavy in the sky. Tubbo yawns, interrupting his train of thought. "You humans and your sleep, it can wait until morning," he says, closing the curtains.

"Seriously?" Tubbo groans, falling back onto his bed. "You haven't been to that many places."

Lush greenery and high mountain peaks, salty oceans and hot sand; all places he once called home, albeit only for a short period of time. They live vividly in his mind, things he'll never forget. "You doubt me that much? I'm hurt." Crossing his arms, he turns away.

It can't be that late, or early; somewhere in between. Time can't pass them by that quickly. But Tubbo easily caves, rolling back under the covers with a groan. "Fine, I bet you were just making it up, anyways."

Though his back is turned, Tubbo can practically hear the way Tommy flinches and falls into his trap. "Excuse me? I didn't explore places you could only dream of just to hear you call bluff!" He snaps, stomping his foot. 

Tubbo grins to himself, and waits for Tommy to reveal everything in a fit of frustration, but all he hears is the floorboards creaking. Rolling onto his side, he sees Tommy staring at the door that's slightly ajar. "What? What is it?"

The hair on the back of his neck stands up, his claws out, and yet he shakes his head. "Nothing, you're heading things. You really do need sleep."

"I do not─" Tubbo tries to argue, fighting back a yawn. Tommy is already outside the door, peeking through the gap. "Come on, man."

"Night, Tubster." With that, he closes the door and with no other choice, falls back onto his pillow. He can hardly believe this… will Tommy be gone when he wakes up? He contemplates it for a while, reminiscing their conversation, the bandages covering his body. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't. It… doesn't make Tubbo as happy as he thought.

Walking on his tip-toes, Tommy sneaks down the hall. He glances at the other bedrooms, every door firmly shut, and makes his way downstairs. Silent is the night, unable to hear his own footsteps as he enters the basement uninterrupted.

A nest of blankets awaits him on the dusty floor, and he sinks into it. Though, his eyes burn a hole through the door leading to freedom, snowflakes falling outside. He rolls over to the other side, and tucks his wings.

It's strange, sleeping alone when you've grown accustomed to the company of another. The warmth and comfort they bring, that you don't notice until it's missing. There's no fire to nestle up to, or someone to dream next to. Not even the stars above his head, the only thing remaining unchanged until the end of time. Even that has left him, inside this cardboard box. 

But the blankets are nice, silky soft, along with the pillows. Close to snow, not quite, but good enough. It makes him think, maybe humans aren't bad, after all. At least not this one. Tales of bloodshed and tragedy shared among generations, passed on to careless young, turning adventurous souls weary. Tubbo is… different.

He closes his eyes, and swears only a second passes before Tubbo is shaking him awake. Night has turned to day, the sun replacing the moon in the sky in the blink of an eye. Groggily, he swats Tubbo's hands away and rolls over. "Five more minutes…"

But Tubbo is having none of it, tossing the blankets aside. "You need to get dressed, before someone sees you!"

Surely it can't be morning already, no more than a few seconds passed. His eyes drift closed again, but before he can fall asleep, Tubbo yanks on his tail.

"Okay, okay! I'm up!" He exclaims, swatting him away with said tail. A short distance away lies his armour and cape in a pile, hidden by the boxes. Clambering to his feet, he hastily slips on the equipment, which disguises his features perfectly. "There, happy?"

A loud voice coming from upstairs cuts both of them off. "Boys, breakfast!" 

A sea of regret engulfs Tommy. Subconsciously backing away towards the back door, Tubbo is unsure whether to stop him or not. Attending breakfast can't be that risky, right? The armour hides everything well, no one should suspect a thing. Sure, it may be a little odd to wear a full set of armour inside, but they can think of something.

Tommy seems to think otherwise, a few steps away from exiting the house, his hand reaches for the doorknob. Surrounded by so many people can't possibly end well, but just as he grips the cold doorknob and Tubbo tries to stop him, a third presence enters. 

With a monotone expression, Techno glances between them. "Uh… am I interrupting something?"

"No!" They both blurt out. 

Techno raises a brow, and takes half a step forward. His attention solely on Tommy, his piercing yet emotionless gaze quite frightening, he says; "breakfast is ready, if you plan to stay. If so, I was wondering if you'd like a rematch afterwards."

A rematch is unheard of. If you fall to Techno's blade, then either that is where your legacy lies or he will assist you in growing stronger, but you must take the loss to heart. Few have been viewed as worthy of a second chance, especially a day later. 

It's almost as if Tommy knows. Fascination and excitement sparkles in his eyes, and his mouth curves into a wide, toothy grin. Not a hint of hesitation remains. "You're on."

What they both expected to be an awkward and unkempt conversation at the table changed drastically. As far as Tubbo can tell, the smile on Tommy's face is genuine, and though he struggles a little with all his armour, he manages. 

"You're still wearing that armour?" Phil brings up, raising a brow. Though he's more concerned about how quickly Tommy is scoffing down the food, as if he hasn't eaten in days. "Isn't it uncomfortable?"

With his mouth full, Tommy shakes his head. After swallowing, he eagerly responds, "not at all!" And takes another mouthful. It intrigues Wilbur, as well, who momentarily pauses and observes Tommy from the other side of the table. 

"You could've at least taken off your gloves…" 

"No way, they're all uh─scratched up and shit, really dirty."

This raises more brows, and Tubbo lowers his head as much as possible, trying to tune out the conversation. He isn't exactly wrong, his hands weren't safe from the deep cuts and unexplainable scratches which tainted his skin. Techno has his fair share of scars, though not many are present on his hands, or visible at all; aside from the one across his nose.

"If you say so, mate," Phil says reluctantly, eyeing Tommy as he resumes his own meal. They continue to ask him a couple more questions, to which Tommy answers without any thought, causing the majority of answers to be confusing. Where is he from? Everywhere and nowhere, why is he here? Simply passing through, where is he headed? He isn't sure. 

He's the kind of person Wilbur would sing about, an aimless traveller from far off, mysterious and foreboding, but Tommy was none of that. Just a suspiciously energetic kid all on his own, by the looks of it, that'll soon be on his merry way. A strange thing, for sure. 

Tommy's plate is empty in the blink of an eye, the first to finish. He jumps to his feet, causing the chair to jerk back. However, his bright grin is wiped clean when he sees Techno still hasn't finished his meal, and won't be done for a couple more minutes. So he crosses his arms and sits back down with a visible pout, which perplexes Techno, though he quietly chuckles. 

As much as it is a happy, or relieving sight that Tommy is looking forward to the match, it makes Tubbo uneasy. Sure, the previous fight had ended fairly well without any downfalls, but one slip up and everything goes downhill. If he loses his helmet or cape, or literally anything; the secret is out. Is it really worth the risk? It is all up to Tommy, but… 

"Have you heard the rumours?" Wilbur pipes up once the silence becomes too loud. Tubbo recognizes that sleazy grin, and narrows his eyes, but Wilbur takes no notice. He definitely catches Tommy's attention. 

"Rumours?" He repeats, eyes wide.

Because of this, despite the groans he gets from Phil, Techno and Tubbo, he keeps going, leaning over the table. "Yes, the whole village knows by now!" 

Tommy inches closer, eyes widening more as he leans over the table. 

Wilbur waits for the right moment, the tension building, before throwing his hands up and exclaiming; "dragons! A dragon was spotted in the night sky!" 

Following a loud crash and a plate flying off the table, Tommy lies on his back on the floor. His face deathly pale, Tubbo knows he should've seen his coming.

"Where'd you hear this one from, the rats?" Asks Philza with a groan, rubbing his face.

"No! I told you, it's the talk of the village. Everyone's talking about it."

Both Techno and Tubbo go to help Tommy, grabbing an arm each. But as they're too busy staring at each other, Tommy jumps to his feet and grins down at Techno. "Come on! Let's have that match already!"

Tubbo tries to warn him, but the words bubble up in his throat. "Tommy─"

Techno is reluctant, brushing down his clothes, and for a moment Tubbo believes he'll decline. At least until later, giving him time to properly discuss this with Tommy. Is it worth it? He's not even sure who would win. Techno has defeated many in his years, not a single loss under his belt, but he's never faced a hybrid.

But Techno smiles, and it all falls down. "Sure, if you're so insistent. Let us get on with it, then."

And for sure, it'll be the match of the year. 

Tubbo almost doesn't show up, uncertain if he'd be able to stomach the worst possibility. If Tommy slips up, will he run to his aid and shield him from the prying eyes and horrified gasps? Or will he hide in the crowd and pay witness to his downfall. It pains him that he can't make a decision.

But he shows up anyways, and makes sure he's at the front of the crowd with a perfect view. Just as he thought, the whole village practically shows up, thrilled at the news of a rematch. They murmur to themselves, questions popping up that are all the same. 

"Who is this boy?"

"Does he really think he can defeat The Blade?"

It irks Tubbo, while Tommy's stance doesn't falter. In his hand is a broadsword given by Techno, seemingly brand new with a golden hilt. He wields it proudly, and points it at Techno, who has one of his own. 

"Ready?" 

He gives a toothy grin, resisting the urge to let his wings spread and give it his all. No, it wouldn't be a fair fight, then. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Like that, it begins. Tommy makes the first move, viewed as a foolish action by how the audience gasps, but as their swords clash and Tommy digs his feet into the snow, the audience hold their breaths. As does Tubbo.

Techno manages to overpower him, just barely, knocking him back. But Tommy is lightning fast on his feet, barely giving Techno time to strike, and when he does, he misses. 

Tubbo watches intently, and a pattern of Techno's becomes aware. One, two, three, he dodges twice then strikes. Admittedly Tommy is quicker than him the first few attempts, there are moments where he loses his footing just long enough for Techno to get a hit. 

Tommy, on the other hand, from what Tubbo can see; doesn't have a pattern. He's acting as he pleases, moving so swiftly without thought; it may allow him to move quickly, but with no thought behind his actions… 

It leaves multiple blind spots that are hit one after the other. A strike to his stomach makes him stumble, and a particularly rough blow to his shoulder makes his knees buckle. He opens his mouth to scream but nothing comes out. The match doesn't end, Techno contemplates it; by the way he steps back and pauses. But in seconds, Tommy has recovered, and goes for the blow.

Except he doesn't, not in the way everyone expects him to. At first, as he spins around, Tubbo thinks he'll use his tail; not roundhouse kick Techno. Is that even allowed? It works in catching Techno off guard, just barely avoiding the attack and creating an opening to strike.

Like lightning, Tommy takes the opportunity and in the literal blink of an eye, Techno is paralyzed with a sword to his neck. 

The audience is stunned, not a single congratulations among them. This can't possibly be happening… their mentor, the strongest person in this village, has been defeated by a foreigner, a mere child on his second attempt a day apart. This is pure blasphemy. 

Tommy heaves as his grip on the sword wavers, hand trembling. Lowering his sword and stabbing the ground, he violently coughs into his hand and a drop of red stains the pristine white snow. Techno didn't land a fatal hit, and yet...

He coughs again, more blood spills through his fingertips. Techno reaches out a hand to steady him, but he stumbles away from his touch. It takes a minute for Tubbo to become aware of the eyes on him, desperate and stricken with fear. Tommy practically mouths his next words, his voice so weak. 

"Help."

Half an hour later, they're back in the basement and Tubbo is replacing the bandages. Some of the wounds are bleeding, it shouldn't be a surprise; they weren't properly treated with stitches. Left with no other option, Tubbo just wraps them in more bandages, hoping it'll do something.

Back in the town square, he couldn't act fast enough. Techno insisted on bringing Tommy to the village nurse, with her herbs and remedies. Whether her strange ways will work or not, she'll abandon all hope when she sees the horns and wings. 

It wasn't easy, lugging Tommy all the way back home. He took the secret route, avoiding Phil and Wilbur. Techno did offer to help, but was shooed away, and as soon as the coast was clear, Tubbo got to work. 

"You shouldn't have agreed to that match," he says, tightening the bandages around Tommy's shoulder and arm. "Was it worth it, winning?" 

There was no victory cry, and the crowd was silent. No sense of satisfaction came from such a harrowing win. He did not earn the village's applause, but abhorrence at the loss of their idol, and by such unnecessary means. 

"Do you think your brother, Wilbur, was telling the truth? About the dragon sighting?"

Tubbo drops the bandages, and it rolls along the floor. "He… I don't know. He has a habit of telling fibs, whether he knows them to be or not," he mutters and walks away to pick up the bandages. "Do you… want him to be right?"

Tommy flexes his hand, opening and closing it. "I… it has to be Ranboo. Which means he's okay, but…"

Tubbo returns to his side, and places a hand on his shoulder. "But?"

"What if they find him before we do?"

Tubbo's mind goes blank. His hand falls to his side and he does his best to think of a response, one that'll lift the mood or change topics, but he's rendered speechless. Tommy looks to him for answers, something, anything to prove him wrong, but gets absolutely nothing. 

They both know the truth, the end result. It makes Tubbo sick to his stomach just thinking about it, considering how likely it is. Villagers will attack without thinking twice, at the sight of a monster portrayed in fairy tales and myths; they'll act mercilessly. And there won't be anything he can do, but watch.

Tommy's head jerks up and his pupils become slit, locked onto the closed door. Before the words can leave Tubbo's mouth, he's on his feet, wings spread out to their full capacity causing the loose bandages to slip off. "There's someone here, right behind the door."

Tubbo glances at the door, then back at him. "Tommy, there's no one─"

"There's someone at the door, Tubbo!" Tommy shouts and turning on his heel, makes a run for the back door.

"Tommy, don't!"

Aiming for his shoulder, Tubbo grabs his wing by mistake, and both spread open, knocking him back. Losing his balance, he grabs onto some crates, bringing them down with him as he crashes onto the cold floor. 

Despite the pain surging up his arm and back, he's relieved by the sight of Tommy before him, and the back door firmly closed. The expression on his face, however, makes him think twice. To think, such monstrous and powerful beasts cowering, as if they aren't the ones with teeth that can pierce skin, and claws that'd shred metal. 

Now, more than ever; without the armour and disguise, Tommy looks human. "I can't die, Tubbo, I can't."