Chapter Text
Someone is playing the guitar.
Tommy runs through a short corridor bustling with activity as servants and maids move about. They step out of his way and give him greetings as warm as the afternoon sun trickling through the tall windows. He waves, in too much of a rush to properly chat.
The muffled plucking of strings is getting louder as he approaches the double doors at the end of the hallway. He struggles to throw them open with his six-year old strength, but once he does he bursts into the ballroom, eagerly running towards the source of the music.
Sitting on the windowsill next to a grand piano is Wilbur, bathed in a soft yellow light that turns his pale skin and brown hair to gold. He holds a guitar in his hands, his bony teenage fingers absent-mindedly picking at the strings, not really paying attention to the notes. He’s looking out the window, but his eyes are unfocused, as if he’s seeing something that’s not really there. Tommy scampers to him and crosses his arms tightly against his chest. “Wilbur! You said you weren’t going to start practice without me!”
Wilbur turns his gaze to Tommy and his features brighten like a match being lit in the dark. An amused smile forms on his lips. “I’m only warming up. I haven't forgotten.” His voice is scratchy, not quite finished changing. One day, it will be smoother and deeper, but for now it’s stuck in an awkward transition— too high to be a man’s yet too low to be a boy’s. “You should warm up, too. It will help you play better.”
“I don’t need to. I’m plenty warm.”
Wilbur’s laugh echoes through the ballroom. “Not like that, Tommy. Go sit at the piano and play a few scales.”
Tommy drags the piano bench back a bit and sits, his feet swinging freely above the ground. He takes a moment to remember where middle C is and plunks out a major scale. Wilbur plays along on his guitar, gently correcting Tommy when he hits a wrong note. He guides the boy through another scale, then another, until Tommy is whining and asking, “Can I please play real music now?”
Servants giggle fondly at the two as they pass through the ballroom, some stopping to listen to the boys’ shaky practice for a moment before carrying on with their tasks. Wilbur finally concedes and retrieves simple sheet music for Tommy to play, if only to avoid a crying episode. It’s no more than a children’s song, one that Wilbur had learned and mastered before Tommy could even speak, but it’s challenging enough for him to stop complaining and focus.
As he confidently plays the notes on the page (and notes that aren’t on the page), palace life continues around them. It’s a bit noisy, a bit distracting, but it’s warm and it’s comforting and it’s home .
That’s how Tommy knows he is dreaming.
He wakes to knocking on his door. “Prince Tommy? The king asks that you join him for breakfast.”
Tommy stretches his neck to read the large clock hanging from the wall. He can barely make out the hands pointing to seven o’clock in the dim light. He flops back down and sighs. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” Dull footsteps fade away as the servant leaves his door.
Tommy fumbles for the handle to his nightstand drawer and fishes out a journal and pen. He flips to a clean page and sets the pen on the paper, but the details of the dream have already faded. Cursing, he scribbles down a few words. Ballroom. Piano. Wilbur plays guitar? He thumbs through previous pages and scowls. Other accounts of his dreams are unfortunately just as vague, with single-word descriptions and abstract adjectives. But there is one word nearly all of them have in common— Wilbur . The man is in almost all of Tommy’s dreams, sometimes as a teenager, sometimes as a young man. Whoever he is, he’s been plaguing Tommy’s dreams for as long as he can remember. Quite frankly, he’s sick of it.
He sits up and stretches, letting his blanket fall and immediately regretting it. Goosebumps paint his skin and he rushes to get dressed in more insulating clothes. His jacket is too small again, he notices. Hadn’t he just gotten a new one fitted last month? Oh well. It’ll have to do for now. He begrudgingly runs a comb through his messy hair, knowing he will be fussed at if his appearance isn’t neat. Content with his hasty grooming, Tommy steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him.
Sleep slowly melts away and is replaced by the chill of the castle seeping into his bones. Thin rods cast a harsh white light from the ceiling. There are windows lining the walls, but instead of providing natural light, all that can be seen is the perpetual darkness of the End. His dragging footsteps echo through the empty halls as he makes his way through the never-ending corridors. He finally reaches a set of doors that are so incredibly ornate, one could easily mistake them to lead to the throne room or treasury or another room of great importance. He pushes them open with ease and enters.
Tommy has always wondered why the dining hall is so huge. The table is so long it can seat twenty guests, but only two people ever eat at it. He guesses the castle must have held grand parties some time in the past, or hosted a multitude of diplomats. It’s the only explanation he can come up with, except maybe that the host’s ego matches the scale of the room. But Tommy doesn’t have a death wish, so he’s never suggested anything like that.
The king is already sitting at the head of the table and cutting into his breakfast. He fixes Tommy with a stern stare as he enters the room. “About time.”
Tommy shuffles to his spot at the table where his plate has already been prepared. “Morning, Dream,” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. He goes to sit down when Dream clears his throat pointedly.
“Remember your manners, Tommy.”
Tommy forces himself to straighten his back and bows stiffly. “Good morning, Your Majesty.”
Dream nods and motions for him to sit. “Better.” Tommy takes his seat, being sure to use the right fork and to not rest his elbows on the table. What a stupid rule.
His silver dish is piled with a variety of unique cuisine that he still hasn’t grown accustomed to despite eating them for years. Among them is something he’s served with nearly every meal: a round, purple fruit with a pale stem. It’s cut into slices, the indents where the seeds had once been still visible in the pulp. He stabs a chunk with his fork and chews.
Of all the strange foods he’s eaten here, chorus fruit is by far the strangest. It grows just about everywhere in the End, and yet he’s never seen anyone eat it. Anyone except for himself, that is. It’s soft and easy to bite into, but the flavor is nearly impossible to describe. As soon as he swallows, the taste vanishes from his tongue and he forgets what it was like until the next bite. It’s certainly a frustrating experience, but it’s included in his meal, so he eats it.
Dream’s fork clinks against his plate. He folds his hands neatly on the table. “We’ll have to start your exercises early this morning. I’ll be leaving shortly, so we won’t have time to do them after breakfast.” Tommy nods, wiping the chorus fruit juice from his chin as Dream begins. “What is your name?”
“Tommy,” he says around his food.
The king raises an eyebrow. “Don’t talk with your mouth full. How old are you?”
Tommy finishes chewing. “Seventeen.”
“Where are you from?”
“The Overworld.”
Dream leans forward. “Where in the Overworld?”
The first few questions are simple, but this one is the real test. Tommy grinds his teeth, concentrating as hard as he can. He digs through his foggy memory, hoping for a glimpse of a mountain or a beach or a forest, something that could give him a hint as to where he grew up. There are flashes, little things that he remembers here and there, but nothing useful. Just like every morning, he shakes his head in defeat. “I don’t know.”
“Where are you now?” Dream continues.
“The End.”
“Why are you here?”
This is another difficult question. Tommy doesn’t entirely know why he was brought to the End, only that Dream had taken him in and promised to help. He delivers the same answer as always. “You saved me.”
“And who am I?”
“The Ender King. Dream.”
The king nods slowly and sighs. “It seems your memory isn’t improving very much. I had hoped you would have progressed more by now.”
Tommy glances down. “Sorry. I’ll try harder.”
Dream frowns. “You’ve been trying harder for years. We’ll have to come up with a new solution once I get back.”
Tommy finally notices the Ender king is dressed in his formal wear, the brass buttons on his jacket neatly polished and a green cape lined with white fur draped over the back of his chair. The outfit itself doesn’t stand out to Tommy, but a pin on his collar does. It’s the royal crest: a single green eye of ender. The only time either of them wear it is when they’re speaking with diplomats. “Are you going somewhere?” he asks.
Dream lifts a glass goblet in his hand. “I will be meeting with foreign officials today,” he says, taking a sip. “We need to renew our trade agreements. I’ll be gone for three days at least.”
“Seems like a long time,” Tommy remarks. “I didn’t think there was a city that far out from here. A city that’s important, anyways.”
Dream shrugs. “It’s farther away than normal. I’ll have to travel out of the End to get there.”
Tommy perks up at this. “Out of the End? Like, to the Overworld?” Dream doesn’t reply and instead continues his meal. He knows that means the king won’t respond to his question, but his silence is answer enough. He sits up extra straight. “Can I go? I mean, may I please join you?”
Dream’s expression hardens. His green eyes match the cold metal of the royal crest on his collar. “Tommy, we’ve been over this. Your place is here.”
The prince lets his posture drop. “It won’t be for long, only a few days! Just this once, please?”
“No. I told you, it’s dangerous out there. I’d rather you stay here where I know you’re safe.”
“But nothing will happen if you’re with me, right? We’ll have guards, and Ranboo can keep an eye on me.” Tommy leans forward. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”
The king sets his goblet down with a dull thud. “I’ve already given you my answer, and my answer is no . Sit up.”
A wave of frustration rushes through Tommy and he crosses his arms. He knows he shouldn’t press Dream, that continuing to ask will only end poorly, but this is a rare opportunity he can’t pass up. “That’s not fair. I’ve never been out of the End, not since I got here. I’ve hardly even been away from the castle. You get to leave all the time. Why do you get to go but not me?”
“Because Tommy,” Dream begins. There is a thinly veiled warning in his voice. “I’m the king. I have lots of important things to do. You, on the other hand, still have a lot of things to learn. You’re just a child.”
It’s one of Dream’s favorite insults, because he knows it cuts deep into Tommy’s chest. The prince scowls. “You want me to get my memories back, don’t you?” he asks sharply. “Don’t you think if I go to the Overworld, it’ll help? Maybe I’ll remember something.” He speaks louder with each word. “Sometimes it feels like you don’t want me to get better. You just want me to stay locked up in here like a fucking criminal. If you really wanted to help me, you’d do anything you could, but no , you just leave me alone for days on end! I might as well have never come here! You’re—”
Dream pushes his chair back. It screeches against the floor and makes Tommy freeze. Suddenly, he realizes he’s crossed too many lines. He yelled at Dream, cursed at him, insulted him. But more than that, he has broken the most important rule, the one Dream has enforced above all else since the boy arrived:
Do not argue.
Tommy fixes his posture and stares down at his still-full plate. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
“I’m what?” Dream asks. His voice is low and deliberate. “Finish your sentence.” Truthfully, Tommy doesn’t even know what he was going to call Dream. The words slipped from his tongue so easily, he hadn’t stopped to think about what he was saying. He can’t find any words that would make the situation better, so he just shakes his head.
The king stands, his shoes clicking on the tile as he approaches. Tommy’s heart pounds in his ears, his chest rises and falls with rapid breaths. He screws his eyes shut when Dream stops next to his chair. “What am I?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Tommy,” Dream says. He tenses. “Look at me.”
Slowly, cautiously, he opens his eyes. Too slow for Dream’s liking. With the speed of a striking cobra, the king grabs Tommy’s face in his hand and forces him to turn his head. Tommy sucks in a breath as Dream’s nails sink into his skin like tiny needles.
The king’s gaze is frigid and unsympathetic. “I have uprooted my entire life to support you. Everything I have done for the past seven years has been to help you.” Dream is still speaking in a quiet, measured tone. Tommy wishes he would yell instead. “I could just as easily have left you in the Overworld to die. And I can still do that, if you’d like. I can have you dropped in the middle of a desert or an ocean and we’ll see how long you last without me.” He releases his iron grip and stands straight. “Is that what you want?”
Tommy’s breath rattles in his chest. His face stings where Dream had grabbed him. “No,” he whispers.
“You’re lucky I’m so empathetic towards those in need.” Dream’s eyes narrow and a look of disgust crosses his face. “I would never have taken you in if I had known you were such an ungrateful brat.”
Tommy swallows, his throat dry. “I am grateful.”
“Then start acting like it,” Dream growls. The ice in his eyes suddenly melts and his expression softens. The corners of his mouth turn in what might be a smile. “Come here.”
Tommy stiffens again as Dream extends his arms towards him, but there is no aggression in the act. Dream pulls him into a gentle hug. Tommy allows his head to rest on the king’s chest, but he does not return the gesture. He doesn’t know if he’s had many hugs before. He wonders if they’re all like this. Distant and unfeeling.
“You know I worry about you,” Dream says, rubbing circles on Tommy’s back. “The Overworld has monsters and storms and people who want to hurt you. And we both know you’re too weak to win in a fight.”
The danger has passed, it seems, so Tommy gathers what confidence he has left. “Do you think I might have… I don’t know, a family or something out there?”
Dream’s chest shakes as he chuckles. “Oh, Tommy. Even if you do have a family, they clearly don’t care about you. If they did, don’t you think they would have found you by now? Who’s to say they even wanted you in the first place?” The words puncture Tommy’s chest, but Dream says it like it should be obvious, like he’s stupid for not realizing it sooner. And of course he is. It’s been years since he came to the End, plenty of time for a worried family member to search for him.
The prince’s heart sinks. “I guess you’re right.”
“I always am.” The king pulls away and retrieves his cape from the chair. “Now finish your breakfast and get started with your lessons. I’ll see you in three days.”
As Dream walks away from the table, Tommy studies his plate, his appetite gone. Not that he had much of one in the first place.
“And Tommy?” He looks up. Dream has his hand on the door, ready to leave. His affectionate smile disappears, replaced with a deathly scowl. “ Never bring this up again. Am I clear?”
Tommy gives a single, tiny nod. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Content, Dream leaves without another word. The door slams behind him, the noise reverberating all around, and Tommy is left alone. Just like always.
He picks at his half-eaten chorus fruit. It might be bland or bitter or sweet, but he can’t tell.
He’s already forgotten.
The rest of the morning goes by in a haze as Tommy attends lesson after lesson, none of them interesting enough to keep his attention. Another long lecture on the Ender Dragon in history, more formulas to memorize for mathematics, an impossible translation assignment in linguistics (no matter how hard he tries, he cannot learn the stupid enderman language, or whatever it’s called). Eventually he gives up and decides to call off the rest of his lessons.
As he walks across the bridge that connects the library to the main section of the castle, he spots movement in the courtyard. Underneath the life-sized statue of the Ender Dragon, a tall figure is practicing axe fighting, his dark skin standing out against the pale end stone and purple chorus flower beds. He swings his weapon from side to side in precise yet inconsistent motions.
A grin finds its way to Tommy’s face and he leans over the railing. “Ranboo!” he calls.
The enderman pauses mid-stance, looking around wildly for whoever said his name. He smiles and waves when he finds the prince. “Hi, Tommy!” It’s hard to hear him from this distance.
Tommy hauls himself up to sit on the railing and swings his legs over. “Hey,” he shouts. “Did you know you’re shit at axe fighting?”
“What?”
“You’re shit!” he says, louder this time.
“That’s why I’m practicing,” Ranboo yells back. “Be careful up there.”
Tommy kicks his feet in the air. “I’m plenty careful. Besides, you’ll catch me.”
“What did you say?”
For fuck’s sake. Carefully, Tommy stands up on the railing. “I’m coming down!” He spins around, leans back and, from thirty feet in the air, lets himself fall towards the ground.
Ranboo yelps and vanishes in a flash of purple particles. He reappears directly underneath Tommy just moments before he makes impact, catching the prince in his outstretched arms. The enderman staggers underneath the sudden weight.
He glares with red and green eyes. “What is wrong with you?”
“Can you hear me better now?”
“You could have gotten seriously hurt! You’re lucky I caught you.”
Tommy tuts. “Well you have to, it’s your job.”
Ranboo dumps him on the ground.
“Bitch,” Tommy grumbles.
“Aren’t you supposed to be with a tutor right now?” Ranboo asks, looking down at him.
Tommy shrugs. “Class is boring. I’d rather come bother you.”
The enderman starts walking back to where he’d dropped his battle axe. “Bother me all you want. I’m going to keep practicing, if that’s alright with you.”
The prince dusts himself off and follows, making himself comfortable at the base of the Ender Dragon. The statue is of Spirit, the last dragon, forever immortalized in black stone. There is a single blue flower on the pedestal. Dream must have been here recently. Tommy often sees the king kneeling and murmuring to himself in this very spot, and when he leaves there is always a flower left behind.
Tommy watches Ranboo stumble through his fighting stances, shaking his head in amusement. He should really stick to using a sword. The prince fills the space with mindless chatter, complaining about his mathematics tutor and her overly-complicated methods, throwing in a few crude jokes and insults to get Ranboo to laugh. The enderman’s cackles are loud and wheezy, and they make Tommy smile.
“So,” Ranboo says, carving into the open air. “What will you do with your three days of vacation from Dream?”
Tommy kicks a rock. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Not much to do around here.” He looks up at Ranboo. “Do you know where he’s going?”
The enderman shakes his head. “Not exactly. He doesn't tell me everything, you know.”
“But you tell me everything.”
Ranboo sighs. “I’m not sure which kingdom, but I think he’s going to the Nether.”
“The Nether,” Tommy repeats in hushed awe. “I bet it’s nicer there than it is here.”
“It’s plenty nice here.” Ranboo sounds a bit hurt.
Tommy snorts. “Yeah, for an enderman maybe. It’s fucking cold, it’s dark, there’s nothing to look at.” He gestures pointedly to the sky. “It’s boring, man! Nothing ever happens.”
The enderman nods understandingly. “That I get. The most interesting thing to happen here in the past seven years was you.”
“Aw,” Tommy cooed. “Careful, I might start thinking of you as a friend or something.”
In truth, Ranboo has always been Tommy’s friend, right from the moment he arrived in the End. Besides the fact that they have to spend time together (being the prince’s bodyguard ensures that), Tommy finds he enjoys the enderman’s company. Conversation comes easily, as do jokes taken at each other’s expense. Ranboo is the only one who knows him— the real him— which is funny when he thinks about it, seeing as even he doesn’t know who the real him is.
Tommy leans back on his hands and stares up at the sky. It is completely black, no sun or clouds to break up the monotony. Not that he knows what the sun or clouds look like exactly, but he wishes for them anyway. The void extends all around them, surrounding the End islands that are suspended in midair. Tommy wonders how that works.
“Hey Ranboo?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“Does the void have, I don’t know, a bottom or something? Like does it end?”
Ranboo shrugs. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it.”
“What do you think would happen if I jumped in? Do you think I’d die?”
Ranboo stops and looks at him. “Please tell me you’re not going to jump into the void.”
“Just wondering,” Tommy says. “You’d come after me anyway, wouldn’t you? Then you could teleport us out.” He stretches his arms lazily above his head. “We should test it. Might be fun.”
“I can think of a hundred things for us to do that are fun and don’t end in us potentially dying.” Ranboo continues his stances.
“Like what?” Tommy challenges.
“Like… pranking the guards in the watchtowers.”
“We did that last week.”
“Getting elytras from the city?”
“Boring.”
Ranboo huffs. “Well, what do you want to do?”
Tommy crosses his arms. “I want to go to the Overworld. I asked Dream if I could go with him this morning, but…” He trails off, not wanting to go over the details of their conversation.
Thankfully, Ranboo knows him well enough to not press him. “I mean, Dream’s not here now. You could always sneak out and get back before he does.” He laughs to himself. “That wouldn’t exactly be a safe activity, though.” He lunges forward and strikes an imaginary foe.
Tommy is still. A million ideas running through his mind at once. “Ranboo, you’re— you’re a genius!”
“Huh?”
He stands on the pedestal, his eyes wide. “Let’s go to the Overworld!”
Ranboo stumbles and swings his axe too wide. It flies out of his hands. He spins around to face Tommy. “ What ? Tommy, I was joking!”
“Well I’m not!” The prince jumps down and bounces on his toes. “If we leave now, we can be back by tomorrow and Dream will never know!”
Ranboo grabs Tommy’s shoulders and stares at him intensely. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? Dream will kill me if anything happens to you! It would be safer to jump in the void!”
Tommy shrugs off Ranboo’s hands. “Fine, you stay here and I’ll go by myself. This could be huge for me. I might even get some of my memories back!”
Ranboo grips his hair and makes a strangled noise. He claps his hands together and points them at Tommy. “Look, I get it, I really do. I want you to get better, but this isn’t the way to do it. Please, please, please, for the love of all things you might consider to be even slightly holy, do not go to the Overworld.”
“I’m going to the Overworld.”
“No you’re not.”
“Yes I am.”
“Dream will catch you and you will be in so much trouble.”
Tommy smirks. “Not if we hurry.” He starts walking toward the castle. “I’m getting my things! Meet you by the front gate in an hour!”
Ranboo put his hands squarely on his hips. “Tommy, I’m not going to the Overworld with you!”
“Yes you are!”
Tommy rushes into the castle, ignoring the enderman’s annoyed yelling behind him. He’ll get over it, he thought to himself. Ranboo always caved to his plans eventually. And with his bodyguard with him, what could possibly go wrong?