Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
Before the castle, Tommy was a man of the streets.
Long ago, Tommy must’ve had a home. When he closes his eyes hard enough and wills away his thoughts, he can remember a home with soft voices and a warm fire. He doesn’t recall faces, and if he does they are blurred out. He doesn’t know if it ever was real or if it was a dream, but… for a long, long time it was all he had.
He clung onto a distant memory that may or may not have been real, and that was what kept him from giving up in a world that didn’t want him to succeed.
For a very long time, it was only Tommy against the world. His earliest memories involve getting chased our by innkeepers, shopkeepers, guards, and anyone or everyone he came across. They called him “street rat” and “thief” so much that for a while, the five year old believed it to be his name.
But then… he met a boy.
Once, a couple towns ago, he met him. He can’t remember his name, but they had stuck together for a night or two. The boy hadn’t ever spoken a word to Tommy, but he didn’t need to. The two had spent the cold, winter night snuggled up against each other. It had been enough for him.
He wasn’t much of a talker or anything. He showed Tommy a carrot patch he had tended to, and that was about all he was worth.
…Okay, maybe not all he was worth.
Tommy never was able to tell him (even if he could, would the quiet child be able to understand him?). He was never able to express how much he had needed the warmth on those nights - not only for those frigid winds that threatened to turn him into a Tomsicle. No, what Tommy really needed was a friend.
And he would settle for quiet carrot boy for a friend - all things considered.
Now, however, Tommy sleeps in a bed made for King’s. It’s frilly with its abundance of blankets, and it’s high off the ground. He lives in luxury, but he still craves for the warmth that boy would bring him. He sometimes holds his stuffed ram close to his chest and pretends it to be him.
His first friend.
His only.
It doesn’t storm out of ungratefulness - he likes the castle; he really does. Phil is kind and strong, and his wings? So pog. . But, he’s kind of lame sometimes, though, nagging Tommy here and there.
“It’s important,” Phil had nagged one night in the library. “Don’t you want to learn how to read?”
“I already know all the bad words, Phil,” Tommy had scoffed, kicking his legs out in frustration. “What else do I need to know?”
Phil was boring. He made Tommy spend hours in an uncomfortable chair in front of a tutor, who thought him stupid. There wasn’t anyone allowed up in Tommy’s part of the castle, aside from a select few.
“It’s safer this way,” Phil explained. “People can’t know about you, Tommy. Do you understand?”
He said yes because he hated not knowing things. He hated how no matter how many times he asked, he still didn’t understand. Phil kept him locked up and away from the others and declared it out of “safety.”
Tommy doesn’t know about safety, but hell if he doesn’t miss being able to roam the streets and hear people, see people, smell them, and pick fights with them.
Not that it matters too much because Tommy wasn’t nicknamed “thief” for nothing. He was sneaky and clever, like the mean old fox in that story Kristin reads to him. He survived on the streets long enough without any help from the royals.
When he retired to bed at his designated sleeptime, Kristin would read him stories. He’d pretend to fall asleep. She’d press a kiss to his forehead and return to her bed. He would wait ten minutes (it’s all it took for her to fall asleep), and he would sneak out.
The castle had endless hallways - vast rooms for him to explore. Tommy’s going on a couple months in Phil’s castle, and there’s still two wings he hasn’t even touched!
Not to mention…Phil only caught him two times.
Tommy’s just insanely skilled like that.
He’s always careful. Tommy keeps a hoodie on to hide the two wings on his back. He purposely ignores other people, but he can’t help but watch.
His favorite thing to do is to catch the guards speaking. There’s two favorites of his - Sam and Puffy. They fight, often, but it’s not like the fighting Tommy saw on the streets. They fight, sword clashing against sword, but then they laugh and break bread after.
He stalks them lots.
He’s only ever been caught once by Niki, a baker who brings goods to the castle. He had swiped one off of her tray, and she caught him red-handed.
Instead of reprimanding him, she slipped him a bag of cookies and put a finger over her lips.
People are interesting, and Tommy loves watching them.
Except, they’re also incredibly boring. They don’t… challenge him, they don’t chase him, they don’t… care. Everyone in the castle is stuck-up and pissy. All. The. Time.
Tommy had snuck out one night. He was outside of the castle, just in the secret fields beyond the back. Jack was on guard for tonight; they’d never spoken, but he’s watched him for a long while. He’s lousy at his job. He has a couple of years on him, yet he has no doubt he could do a much better job.
He snuck out into the fields, and in the distance he saw him.
“Holy shit,” Tommy had hissed. “A blood elf.”
Kristin reads him lots of stories. Mostly about Phil and herself and other popular figures in their kingdom, but sometimes she reads about what’s outside of the Arctic. She tells him about deserts with blood elves, beautiful forests with vibrant lights, and civilizations under water.
He thinks the Arctic and the mountains are a little lame compared to underground cities.
Here he was, a blood elf, like from her stories. A real one!
He was propped up against a tree. His eyes were closed, but he didn’t look to be truly asleep. There was a book open in his lap, and a sword next to him.
Tommy was weary around strangers. He obeyed Phil’s rules because he already knew people were dangerous.
To be fair, though, Tommy’s dangerous himself. Who’s to say he’s not locked up because he is the threat? (He much prefers this to the alternative.)
So he got close. He snuck up close to the sleeping stranger and watched him for a short while.
The blood elf had stirred and scribbled into that book of his. He can’t read too well, so he can’t make sense of the writing. Whatever it is, it’s elegant.
He wants to know what’s in the book.
He needs to steal that book.
Tommy’s plan had been to wait until he woke up. He climbed into the cart behind the traveler’s horse. There were scattered wolf pelts, various clothes, fur coats, etc. Tommy sat in it with the full intention of waiting for him to fall asleep.
Something went wrong, though, ‘cause Tommy woke up a couple hours later with the red-eyed stranger staring him down.
-
“You have five seconds to get out.”
The stranger had his sword drawn. Tommy was sat up now with a wolf pelt covering his shoulders. The sun was shining down between the trees, and it was too bright for him to function. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes. “Where are we?”
“Get out of my cart before I kill you.”
Tommy grumbles, glaring up at him. “It’s your fault, so what’re you mad at me for?”
“How is this my fault?” The red eyes widened, and he opened the latch of the cart. Tommy scrambled to get away from him. He kept the pelt stable around his shoulders and pushed himself up against the wall.
“You poisoned me!” he accuses, keeping one hand fastened around the cloak and the other pointing at him.
“Heh?” He pulled himself up onto the cart. He sat, across from Tommy, with his sword in his hands. “When did you crawl in here?”
He peered up at the sky, instantly regretting the action. “Tell the sun to fuck off!” Tommy roared, covering his eyes with a wince. “Why’s it on steroids?”
“Steroids?” he parroted. “I’m not foolish enough to fall for a con. Get out of my cart.”
“Fine, fine, creep!” Tommy kept the pelt on his shoulders and stepped up against the cart. The fall was too steep, though.
He could take his cloak off and float gently to the ground, but he’s not supposed to show people.
Fuck Phil and his stupid ass rules.
He obeyed, not touching his cloak.
“...Do you need help down?” he began, mirth heavy in his voice.
“No! I got it!” Tommy barked, standing on shaking legs. He swung himself over the side and crashed gracefully into a bush. “Oof...Got it.”
He rolled out of the bush. The stranger closed back up his cart after checking it for any more stowaways or anything suspicious.
“Did you steal anything?” he asked, rummaging through his belongings.
“No,” Tommy huffed as he picked sticks out of his clothes. “I was trying to steal your book, but then you poisoned me.”
Unamused, he crossed his arms. “I did not waste my potions on you. Nice try.”
“You had to have,” Tommy whined, brushing some stray thistles off of his arm. “‘Cause I was waiting for you to fall asleep, and then I just collapsed.”
The stranger kept a stoic face. Impossible to read. “You fell asleep.”
“No, I did not!” he hissed. His face burned with an uncomfortable heat, and he tried to scrub it away with eager hands.
“You won’t make a good thief if you fall asleep on the job,” he warned, smirking.
“Hey, bitch!” Tommy said, running up to him. He pulled his sword out, and all of Tommy’s anger fled him. He gasped as stars filled his eyes in the presence of the most beautiful sword he’s ever seen. “Holy shit, that’s so cool! Can I touch it?”
He kept the sword out of reach before declaring, “I’ve never met a child to curse as much as you.”
Tommy only shrugs. “Phil says ‘s okay,” Tommy countered before his sentence caught up with him. “Wait. I’m not a child.”
His ear twitched. Elves always had distinctly long ears, and Tommy wanted to touch it. “My apologies.” They look almost like he does - aside from red eyes, scarlet cheeks, and a very pale skin.
“Maybe you’re just old!”
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, unamused. He made a strange, scooting gesture with his hands. Phil usually does the same thing when he spots Tommy somewhere he shouldn’t be. “Go away now, thief.”
“I don’t think I like you,” Tommy admitted, scratching his head. “Fuck you and your interesting book. And your weird ears. And your really soft pelt.” He clung onto the pelt and marched forward. “Where the hell did you take me, weirdo?”
“I didn’t take you anywhere!” he countered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Tommy looks around frantically in a desperate attempt to make sense of any of his surroundings. “We’re not in the yard anymore,” Tommy said. “I… What is this?” Tommy bent down to pick a leaf off the ground. He held it up against the sunlight, but he couldn't tell what it was.
“You’ve never seen a leaf before?”
His cheeks flush pink. “Of course I have!” he lied, dropping it instantly. It floated slowly to the ground. “I was jus’ testing you.”
The stranger sighed. “This is the stupidest con I’ve ever heard of.”
“What’s a con? Like a cond--”
“Who’s child is this?” he asked, cutting him off.. “Where did you come from? Why are you terrorizing me? Can you leave? I have a sword.” He waved the sword in his hands for emphasis.
“A very cool sword,” Tommy echoed, reaching his hand out. “Can I hold it?”
The answer had been immediate. “No.”
He squinted his eyes. “I don’t like you.”
“Cool. You can leave now.”
“Fine, going!” Tommy stumbled forward.
They were in a deep forest, one full of lush greens he’s seen in Kristin’s paintings. In all his traveling, he’d never seen so much color. He’s seen white like snow and barren trees.
“Where’s, uh…” Tommy paused. “You don’t happen to know which direction the mountain is in, do you?” He slowly turned back around to the unamused stranger.
“The mountain?” he parroted. “We haven’t passed a mountain.”
“Stop gaskeepin’ me,” he accused, pointing a finger at him. “We have so many at home!”
“You…” The stranger’s hope is drained out from his face. His pale complexion turned even more pale as the realization sunk into him. “You’re from the mountains.” It’s not a question.
“I am, I am. Except I can’t see them over the trees.” He craned his head, but he couldn’t see out of the forest. Perhaps if he could get his wings to work (and pull them out, for that matter), he could see his home.
“You won’t be able to see them.”
“Why not?” he exclaimed, voice turning into a harsh whine. First he has to bully him, and now he’s making fun of his insecurities. What an asshole.
“We’re not even on the same continent as the snow biome anymore. We left there more than two days ago.”
Tommy took in the news slowly.
Not the same continent? How many cities is that?
“I was asleep for two days?” he asked.
“This is bad,” he seethed, throwing his hands into the air. He ignored Tommy for a couple seconds to panic to himself.“Who’s child is this?”
Tommy shifted awkwardly. “I’m an orphan, dickweed.”
“Oh, an orphan! That’s great. So much better.” He sucked in a harsh breath before gesturing towards Tommy. “Okay, get in the cart.”
“You just told me to leave!” he hissed, scrambling away from him.
“Get in the cart.” He raised his sword, and Tommy shrunk back.
“You wan’ fight me, bitch?” the small boy challenged. He raises his fists up to the towering blood elf and stands his ground.
-
On another continent away, Phil threw the pillows around the room. “This is not funny anymore, Tommy!”
“Maybe he got lost in the city?” Kristin tried. “I’ll have my reapers look around--”
“Lost in the city? Kristin, this is-- I’m gonna pass out.” He sighed, dropping the pillows as he ransacked Tommy’s bed for the fifth time. It was the last place he saw the kid, panting with a red, sick face. “If anyone finds out about him…”
“We’ll find him,” she promised. “Besides, it’s Tommy. He’s probably picking a fight with anyone who comes his way.”
He twitched. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
To be fair, Kristin was right.
Whether or not that was a solace is a different story.