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Tommy heaves, air scraping his throat as he desperately sprints away from the prison, from Dream. He can still feel blood dripping from his cuts, the white-hot pain of his wrist snapping as Dream shoved him on the floor, hands reaching for his neck-
His legs were burning.
Wilbur, Schlatt, Mexican Dream, all three of them in the void, the cards as Wilbur laughed. The server is better off without us. That was what Wilbur had said. But that can't be true, right?
The image of Tubbo and Ranboo staring at him appears unbidden, and he nearly chokes. Tubbo replaced him, he didn't have a best friend anymore, he didn't have anyone-
He remembers opening his eyes to that mask, the crudely drawn smile towering over him as his heart began to beat once more. The glee in the man's voice as he welcomed him back to the world of the living because he had died. But now he was alive again.
He had been dead for a whole week. Sam had-
His vision blurs. Sam had let him die. Left him in a cell with Dream for a week. Abandoned him. Just like Wilbur and Tubbo and Techno-
His shoe slams into something, sending him crashing into the grass. Rolling over, he wheezes, trying to get the air back in his lungs.
The sky turns blurry as he blinks furiously to keep the tears at bay. His desperate gasping mixes with the blood pumping through his ears. Why didn't you stay dead? Everything would've been better-
Tommy forces himself to inhale.
His breath hitches as he lets out a forced exhale. Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.
He can feel his heart thumping, slower but not yet calm. Inhale, exhale. There was grass under him, caressing his skin. It was the first time he'd touched it in months. Inhale, exhale. Tommy's here now. There are plains and hills surrounding him, no crying obsidian or void. He lets his eyelids fall on the inhale, soothing his stinging eyes before opening them to meet the world once again.
There isn't a single cloud in sight. Despite everything, the weather was beautiful. Ironic. Even though he had died, the world kept turning.
Perhaps it was irrational to believe that because his clock had stopped, everyone else's would too. Maybe Tommy just wishes nothing had changed. It had, and he would accept that with time.
It was sunny in exile as well.
He sighs before pushing himself up.
His body groans at the movement. Looking over to the prime path, he sees his attacker: a bloodvine curling around the oak planks. It looks undisturbed despite Tommy's foot slamming into it, which isn't natural, but nothing about the Egg is.
He glances around, eyes widening at the number of vines layering his surroundings. The stupid fucking Egg had grown. As if they needed more messed up shit in this hellhole of a server.
Well, best he figures out how bad the Egg and its weird cult had gotten sooner rather than later. His immunity wouldn't protect him from a well-placed sword, but hopefully, Bad wouldn't be there to see him. Plus, no one else was stupid enough to wander down there. After Tubbo and Ranboo, he really didn't want to see anybody. Prime knows the feeling's mutual.
He makes sure to be cautious of his surroundings this time.
Wind rushes past his ears as he drops to the spider farm, tensing as the loud hisses reach his ears. Too similar to the sound of the withers, to the mobs he would have to face alone in exile with only a wooden sword. But he's not there anymore.
His chest fills as his shoulders tense before Tommy lets all the tension go. The hisses continue, but he lets them bounce off the walls unanswered as he steps into the tunnels.
The hallway to the Egg has changed a lot. Rather than the carelessly mined out path he was familiar with, there's a clean-cut staircase with a few Crimson blocks. At the end of the dark hallway is a red glow. Tommy slides forward, watching with wide eyes as the room comes into view. There's a whole ass Crimson forest down here.
He scans the red trees, the only difference between them and the Nether's being the ungodly amount of bloodlines covering them. He shakes his head in disbelief, turning to the Egg's corner only to gape. When the fuck did it get so big?
It was at least three times Tommy's height now, with large magma spikes surrounding it. How the hell did it grow at all, let alone that big? The whole room is against the laws of nature.
He blinks. The Egg is glowing. In fact, it's burning so bright he doesn't know how he missed it in the first place. The red shine dominates the room.
Add it to the list of shit wrong with this place.
Tommy takes it all in for one more moment before traversing the last steps. The floor is grassy and humid, damp enough that he can feel it through his shoes. He tries to ignore it as he begins moving through the forest.
His muscles protest each time he jumps over a vine. The thorns pull at his already torn clothes, pricking his skin but never slicing through. Once he finished his investigation, he would not be coming back, that was for sure. At this point, Tommy wasn't even sure why the Eggpire bothered patrolling; he couldn't think of a single person who would want to be here. It was revolting, although that was probably fixed by the mind control-
A whisper. Tommy freezes midstep. He scans the room cautiously, but nothing moves. No flashes of black and white. He continues after a moment, jumping over a few more vines and ducking a few more branches before landing in a clearing. The egg towers over him, looming as he strolls to the steps. The ground is still damp.
It's a goliath, at least three times his size, looming ominously as red light continues to radiate from it. The lava around him dims the intensity, but he squints slightly as he edges closer.
Can you hear me?
He freezes. Shit. Tommy turns to fucking bolt because hell if he's about to listen to a fucking egg, but it addresses him once more.
You needn't be so nervous, little one.
Tommy pivots around to face the bitch with a snarl. "I'm not fucking nervous, and I'm not little, you piece of shit!"
The Egg laughs, and Tommy growls. I meant no offence.
"Yeah, well, offence taken, bastard!" Tommy glares. "Now shut the fuck up. I'm leaving."
So soon? You haven't even told me why you came here in the first place.
"I don't have to explain shit." Tommy turns to walk off, chin held high. Maybe he can hear it now, but it's still a fucking egg.
You want something.
Tommy keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the exit, ignoring the voice ringing in his ear. It's an egg. It can't do shit. He repeats these words like a mantra. Tommy takes a step. Again. One foot in front of the other, step by step, it doesn't know anything about what you want-
Tell me what it is, child.
No. He is not indulging the Egg of all things.
Tommy is at the forest's edge, making a brisk pace as he prepares to bolt through the carnage. His foot lands on a tree root, and a vine slams into his chest. The air rushes out of his lungs. He gasps as it curls around him, feels it tensing before suddenly his feet are off the ground, and he's being carried back to the crimson monstrosity.
You ignore me because you are afraid. You needn't be. I only wish to know what you want.
"I don't want anything, asshole! Let me go!" Tommy yells, digging his nails into the firm flesh. Unfortunately, his efforts do not stop him from being dragged right in front of the Egg, less than two meters away.
I know what you want, child.
"I am not a fucking child." It feels stupid, staring at a coarse red shell as he speaks to a disembodied voice. He just continues attempting to pry off the vine. It's snake-skin smooth, yet all muscle.
Why do you deny it with such determination when you want to be taken care of?
He stops.
"What the fuck?"
How is your relationship with Philza and Technoblade these days?
Tommy glares at the plant-covered goliath. "What on Earth does that have to do with anything?"
You never did get to spend much time with them when you were younger.
They started going on trips after his second birthday with them; he celebrated a total of three with his whole family. But he had Wilbur, and Wilbur had him. That was more than enough.
How do you feel about them now?
"Blade's a bitch, and so is Philza. We don't associate anymore, and I don't see how my childhood is any of your fucking business," he deadpans.
A pause. You miss them.
"And how the fuck would you know that?"
You're lonely. The whole server expects you to play hero, yet nobody stays with you.
"I'm no fucking hero," Tommy scowls. The proof was in the way everyone around him suffered. God, if anything he was the villain. He just wants to be safe and happy, but it always comes at the expense of others. It didn't matter anymore. Dream wouldn't let him die. He could never be satisfied, and eventually, everyone left. That's just the way things are.
Tommy's eyes widen before he starts struggling again. "Put me down, prick!"
I can keep you safe, young one.
"I don't need you to!" Tommy yells as he points his finger. "I can take care of myself, and you're a fucking egg. I don't see why I would ever need your help."
You have been betrayed by every adult you believed you could trust and your best friend.
"Don't talk shit about Tubbo!"
He abandoned you, did he not? You're all alone.
"And that's perfectly fine by me, so you can just put me down and let me leave-"
You haven't been safe in so long. You want to be free of responsibility, to relax.
"I've been fucking amazing, thanks!" Tommy argues. Insults simmer in his throat, but he chokes them down when something coils around his left wrist. A bloodvine.
He expected them to be cold, but the vines feel toasty, snug against his chest and wrist. Given all the lava, it makes sense. The one around his middle had slackened at some point, its grip unyielding but not anxiety-inducing anymore.
Tommy grits his teeth and shakes his head. He can't get distracted.
You need to loosen up.
Tommy doesn't dignify that with a response. He goes to shake his arm, but his flailing doesn't dislodge the vine at all. Instead, it pulls his wrist out wide. He twists his other arm up with the intent of clawing the vine off, but his other wrist is caught before he even gets close.
"Let me go."
There is no need for fighting. You want affection, to be able to trust someone to protect you no matter what. I can grant that.
"Shut up." It comes out weaker than he meant it to. The vine on his left is doing something to him, warmth pulsing up his arm as it climbs. "I don't want to be part of your weird cult."
Hush child, I want only to see you at peace.
It's at his shoulder now, and Tommy stares forward as he attempts to shift his focus from the waves of warmth flowing through his left side. "I don't want to relax-"
You deserve it. You don't need to fight.
He grits his teeth and thinks. "You need to put me down."
You could rest for as long as you wanted here. The others would protect you with their lives.
The weight of the vine finally settles at the base of his neck. Warmth radiates through his head, and almost instinctively, Tommy's eyes get heavy.
The vine on his right wrist begins to climb. The warmth spreads, and his eyes droop again before he blinks them open.
"Stop," he says, but the right vine's steady movement is his only response. A tingling slips up his arms, and he pauses. It... actually feels really nice.
No. Tommy starts kicking his legs weakly. Vines catch them near immediately, securing his ankles. The vine on his right meets the other at his neck and curls up to his ear.
Tingling and warmth slide through his body, the Egg allowing his arms to relax by his sides. He feels... comfortable. His chin drops closer to his chest, but he pulls it up so he can keep fighting-
A low hum fills the air.
Why? Why is he against this? He came back to life mere hours ago. He's lost everything, and yet he's still fighting? The Egg is trying to take care of him. He hasn't felt this protected in so long. Why is he still struggling?
The final nail in the coffin slams down as the Egg's volume increases.
It's a beautiful sound, soaking into his thoughts, gradually covering them with clouds. His pulse is lethargic. His arms feel like iron weights, his legs tingling alongside them. His eyelids fall further. An aimless melody swirls around him as his chin drops slightly.
He knows he's being tricked. He's being lowered gently as the Egg takes over at the surface, but is there a point in fighting? He hasn't stopped since he first fought Dream for his discs, and God, is he tired. He doesn't remember the last time he had taken a break without something weighing him down. It feels good.
In a second, his decision is made.
The humming continues. Tommy's head spins with exhaustion as his legs and arms hang. It takes mere moments before his chin hits his chest. He's limp now, simply revelling in the pleasant warmth the vines radiate as his mind creeps towards unconsciousness. The Egg lets out a purr that resonates through the room.
Tommy lets out a sigh as he feels air brush past him, barely able to blink as more vines curl around him. They blanket him, gentle as they adjust his body, so he's cocooned comfortably in their embrace.
His eyelids feel like deadweights, he notes. A warm and soothing vine begins to stroke through his hair, and he's safe, curled up in a loving embrace. Tommy smiles sleepily. The Egg will protect him.
The vines shift him to rest directly on the Egg's side. He blinks. The Egg begins to hum again, and his eyelids slide lower.
Sleep, little one. You are safe.
They fall shut.