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Summary
Tommy stares, eyes wide and watering from the intense pressure in his chest.
“Greetings, your majesties. As the hand to the throne, I pass on my king's gratitude. The SMP welcomes you.” Dream gives the normal platitudes, but Tommy still stares in awe. He’s glad his mask hides his utter shock.
Because he knows these people. It’s been so long- impossibly long- but he used to know them.
Once upon a time, before the Greater SMP, the masks, immortality, Dream- Tommy was just a kid who thought he could always be free.
And he knew those men, not yet leaders of an empire, by different names. The Angel of Death, The Siren, and The Blood God. Lord Zephyrus, Admin Icarus, and General Protesilaus.
Technoblade, Wilbur, and Philza.But that was over three hundred years ago.
//
Or, Dream is an immortal who controls everything in The Greater SMP and has made Tommy his unwilling right-hand man. The Antarctic Empire's visit shouldn’t mean much besides more guests to appease- except Tommy recognizes the visitors. Which should be impossible, since he met them hundreds of years ago and they should be, y'know, dead.