Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You know Wilbur, you’re the town favorite,” Tommy says as Wilbur carded his fingers through the knots of his hair, mumbling a soft lullaby.

“Am I? What makes you think that?” He questions, pulling Tommy closer to his chest as the little one squirmed around until they were face to face. Ocean blue eyes meeting brown hazel ones.

“Because you’re Dad’s favorite and the town follows everything Dad says.”

“Is that really what you believe? Father pinned the whole town against you?” Wilbur chuckles, booping Tommy on the nose.

“Of course not. The thing is Dad loves you more outside than he does me, so the town thinks they’re supposed to love you more too.”

“Tommy,” he started with a sigh, “I’m going to be honest with you, that's the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“No it’s not, Tubbo would agree,” Tommy said stubbornly.

“Tubbo would agree with you on anything. That’s if he even exists in the first place,” Wilbur muttered under his breath.

“He does exist!”

“I’ve never seen him.”

“Well that’s because he doesn’t like stupid nerds that are Dad’s favorite!”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it? You're gonna cry, you child?”

“I’m not a child!”

“You’re eight,” the eldest laughed.

“Eight and a half! I’m almost nine,” he said proudly.

“Well I’m still older and better than you, so go be a child somewhere else I have to practice,” Wilbur said, releasing the child from his hold to pick up his guitar. Tommy got up from Wilbur’s bed, dusting himself off before going over to his side of the room, picking up his coat.

“Yeah you and that stupid guitar,” Tommy huffed.

“You used to like this guitar Tommy,” Wilbur says, a hint of concern laced in his voice.

“That was before it made you the town favorite. Now if you don’t mind me I can’t be late to my tutor. He gets very upset when I am.” As he talked his brother already started plucking the fresh strings. Wilbur would always start with the same few notes before he started playing something new. Notes he was familiar with before they changed.

“You’re late Tommy.”

“No I’m not. Sun is still in the highest point of the sky,” he panted leaning over a rock. His legs could only carry him so fast and he prided himself on never being late to one of Technoblade’s lessons.

“To my knowledge the sun moved quite a bit to the left. You’re late,” he tutor said unamused. 

“Ah c’mon on. I had to change out of all that frilly stuff. There are so many buttons and ruffles,” he says, blanching at the thought of wearing any more formal clothing. His tutor sighed, relaxing his face for a small smile that put Tommy at ease.

“Yeah, yeah I know, your father sent me a bird over this morning. It's fine. Go get your sword,” he instructed, pulling his hair back into a loose braid.

“Well speaking of this morning, why didn’t you come over? Aren’t you Dad’s right hand or something?”

“I am but I don’t do public announcements.”

“Well neither do I! I’m a manly man. I should be chopping wood or hunting,” he grumbled, pulling out his sword. It was small and easy to wield, his father had it made and given to him on his seventh birthday but if he was being honest he was starting to outgrow it. It was a boy's sword, he was eight now. He needed a man's sword.

“Tommy you’re six, and not only that you’re your father’s son. Chopping wood or hunting should not be one of your goals,” his tutor sighed, picking his own sword. A little duller than the boy’s for practice but just as dangerous. 

“I’m eight and a half,” he said, pouting. Technoblade chuckled, ruffling Tommy’s hair before taking a step back. The two got in position and went over practiced sword movements. Tommy, no longer the boy he once was, barely stumbled over his feet any more. He could move backwards and swing his weapon without tripping and his clothes get ripped far less than before.

“You’ll fall if you attack me like that again,” his tutor said with balanced breath.

“It’s a new move I’m working on,” Tommy panted, trying the move for a second time only for the dull handle of a sword to knock him over. Tommy glares at his tutor as he stands in the way of the sun looking down on him.

“Master what I teach you first, then try something new.”

“Yeah but what you teach is boring, Technoblade. I wanna spill blood and guts everywhere and laugh at my victory!”

“When war comes you won’t be saying that now stand up, try again and maybe if you can go with little mistake I’ll teach you how to do that little move you’re working on,” Technoblade said, holding out his hand to Tommy.

“You have yourself a deal!” He cheered, pulling himself up. They practiced until even the sun gave up on their endeavors. For a reckless young boy he was graceful with a sword in his hand. When he refused to go home until he could master his new footing, Technoblade lit oil lamps around the field. The forest watched the show until Tommy tired, passing out falling directly into Techno’s arms. He sighed, putting the weapons away, trailing out of the forest as the boy rested on his shoulder.

The lights of town may be off, but it still shines dimly. Neat rows of houses, closed trading ports and small stands. Standing there in the center of it all is a house made of white bricks and wooden slabs. Two grand weeping willows planted in the front yard with a single path in the middle of town to get to it. The house itself glowed like a halo, calmly drawing everyone in town to it’s safety. 

Technoblade walked up the marble steps pushing in the gray painted doors to open the house. He held the boy as he started to stir, using a hand to wipe his eye.

“We’re home?”

“Mhm, do you want to see your father before bed?”

“Yeah that’ll be nice. I’ll tell him about my new move,” he said, tucking his head further into Technoblade’s neck.

“Okay,” he whispered, taking Tommy to his father’s office.

“Wil, what did I tell you about- Oh Technoblade, is that Tommy you’re with?”

“Yeah, he wanted to tell you about his training today. Tommy, we’re here,” he said, putting him down to walk to his father. The tired man put his pen down in the fresh inkpot and held the boy’s hand as he started to speak.

“Dad guess what I did today,” he said, with a yawn caught in his lips.

“What did you do, Tommy?”

“I made up a new move with my sword and Technoblade said it has some… some-”

“Potential,” Technoblade supplied for him.

“Yeah that word. It’s very cool Dad, I’m sure you’ll like it,” he gave his father a sleepy smile as he tried to keep his heavy eyes open.

“Can I see it soon Tommy? I’m very interested in your work,” he said, smiling back at the boy.

“No, not yet. I have to make it perfect so that you and everyone else will love it,” he yawned, squeezing his way on his father’s lap.

“Well I already love it and I’m sure everyone else will too,” he said, giving Tommy a kiss on the cheek.

“Yeah right, it has to be the best.”

“It will be, but my little warrior seems to be tired. Are you ready for bed?”

“I’m a little sleepy. Can you tuck me in?” He asked hopefully.

“Sorry bud, I’ve got work to do but maybe-”

“I’ll do it Philza,” Technoblade cuts in, holding his arms out for Tommy. The boy left his father instantly to go back into awaiting arms, Phil tried not to look pained as he did.

“Are you sure, Kristen’s still up I’m sure she can do it,” Phil says, clearing his throat.

“I’ve got it, leave your wife alone. I’m sure she’s picking flowers or doing something else she loves to do. Tommy, say good night,” he instructs.

“Night night Dad.”

“Good night Tommy. Oh and Tech since you’re going-”

“Wilbur’s literally in the same room. I’ll check on him too,” he promised, closing the door behind him. 

“Why are you tucking me in tonight?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to spend the rest of your days wondering about,” Technoblade teases, opening up the door to the boys’ room. Surely enough in the room there with two dim candles, Wilbur laid plucking at guitar strings and a cluster of clothing spread out on any ledge that could hold them.

“Aren’t you supposed to be asleep?” Technoblade mused as he walked deeper into the room. He pulled some random articles of clothing off of Tommy’s bed and laid him there to get situated.

“Don’t wrinkle those, I need them.”

“This and the 3 other shirts you have laying around?”

“I need those shirts, hang them on the wall for me and then promptly leave,” he said, re-tuning his guitar.

“Your father sent me to check on you, because you’re supposed to be asleep,” he huffed, placing the shirts on a chair, fixing any wrinkles he might have put in them. Then he turned around readying himself for a battle.

“I need to finish this song for tomorrow,” Wilbur says stubbornly, gripping the neck of his guitar.

“You need to rest,” Techno counters.

“Yeah, go to sleep, Wilbur,” Tommy laughed, watching his brother glare frustratedly at him.

“I can handle this Tommy. Wilbur you can work on your song tomorrow if you wake up early enough so-”

“You don’t get it. I’m not playing for fun, this is important,” he stressed. He knew he was too young for bags under his but this was important.

“As I’m sure it is but your father-”

“He’s the reason I’m still up anyway. I’ve been called to play in front of delegates for Father’s court, hence the clothes and everything else,” he sighed as he started stuming at the guitar again. Tommy watched Technoblade and his brother with interest, his past sleepiness forgotten for his amusement in Wilbur’s struggles.

“Wilbur, stop playing and get in bed, I’m sure if you get up early enough tomorrow then you can finish your song and play fine in front of the delegates,” Technoblade sighed, taking the guitar from Wilbur’s hand. Wibur reached up for the instrument, just for it to be raised out of his reach and if looks could kill Techno would be laughing in his grave.

“Hey I need that-”

“One more step and I’ll throw it out the window. In the bed now; Tommy, stop laughing and get under the covers or I’ll melt your sword and turn it into a pot,” he threatened, ignoring the daggers being burned into his back.

“Hey-”

“But Technoblade-"

“Do it now,” he instructed, leaving no more room for argument. The boys, without a spirit left to fight against the man, followed his orders, grumbling words he didn’t care to hear.

“Can I get my guitar back?”

“Come to my room tomorrow morning to get it.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I don’t want to be. Now if you’re done complaining, what if I can give you guys something in return for going to sleep?” He offered.

“Are you trying to bribe us?” Tommy said offendedly.

“Is it working?”

“I mean it could… if you tell us what it is,” Wilbur said, trying to play off his interest.

“Well how about a story about a man called Theseus?”

“The... seus?”

“Tommy, if you butchered that name anymore the story wouldn’t exist. He said Theseus; it’s a Greek myth,” Wilbur scoffed.

“Oh so what about this Theseus person? Did he die?”

“To tell you that I have to tell you the beginning if you’re interested.”

“We obviously are now, tell us,” Tommy demanded, sinking into his pillow and blankets.

“Fine then. This story is a Greek tragedy about a hero that lived long ago-”

“I thought it was a myth?”

“It is Tommy, just let me tell the story,” Technoblade hushed, clearing his throat.

“Oh sorry,” Tommy chuckled and Wilbur sighed, rolling his eyes.

“It’s fine Tommy but anyway back to our troubled hero. Theseus grew up in a place near Athens, Greece called Trozen. His father was led to believe was either Poseidon the god of the sea or the King at the time King Aegeus of Athens. His mother, warned by the King, told her not to tell Theseus who his father was until he was older.”

“Why?”

“He’d get to it Tommy if you’d be quiet,” Wibur argued, throwing his pillow at Tommy.

“Hey why’d you do that?” Tommy whined, readying to throw the pillow back but Technoblade gave him a sharp look freezing him in place.

“Stop it, the both of you or I won’t get the terrifying monster beast,” he sighed, feigning boredom.

“Monster beast? Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I was getting to it. Our young hero Theseus grew up to be a monster slayer, with the gift his unknown father had gifted him. It sounded great to the village; free protection from the monsters along with other beasts and Theseus allowed himself the spoils of a hero.”

“So where’s the issue in any of this? He seems to be fine,” Wilbur said underwhelmed. 

“He is, until he was called for a secret mission for King Aegeus,” he smirked.

“A secret mission?”

“From the king? What was it? Is it the monster?”

“A cursed beast called a Minotaur King of Minos on Crete. The Minotaur was a foul creature, half man and half breast that ruled over a labyrinth-”

“What’s a labyrinth?”

“A maze Tommy hush.” Technoblade chuckled at the boys’ eagerness, before his eyes were drawn to the Grandfather Clock in the corner of the room. It was getting late and as much as the boys’ wanted to, Technoblade knew they wouldn’t be able to stay up much longer so he hummed. Skipping much of the story in his mind before landing on a good part to start up again.

“For the king and his village Theseus agreed to take on the mission because he was told that this is how he saved everyone he loved. His mother, his wife and his children. He’d be a hero with the promise never to have to fight again once this threat was gone but,” he paused, looking over at Tommy. “Do you know what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Tommy said, looking at Technoblade confusedly. Wilbur, already drifting asleep with his glasses askew on his face and a small buzzing coming from his nose.

“Heroes don’t always get the credit they deserve. Theseus, always successful in his quests, took the head of the Minataur back to King Aegeus but was dismissed. King Aegeus claimed he had no part nor idea of any mission and told the village that he had given Theseus direct orders to leave the King of Minos alone. 

Enraged that their hero would do such a thing, they exiled him and was left with nothing. His mother and family abandoned him and he died in disgrace. You see Tommy there’s only one thing people like to see more than a hero winning, and that’s one who dies trying. He saved hundreds of lives that day, but goes down in history despised by the people who used to sing his praises.”

“Why would they do such a thing? He was awesome, he saved their lives and beat the evil guy,” Tommy said, hoping there was another ending to such a tragic story.

“Hero’s end up dead Tommy just like everyone else, but only hated a little bit more. It was his own selflessness that led him to this,” Technoblade got up from the desk chair walking to Wilbur’s bed taking his glasses off and folding them neatly to the side.

“Was there really no way for him to win, even as a hero?”

“No, not in this story, but just maybe when you’re old enough to write your own you can have your happy ending,” Tommy’s eyes followed Technoblade as most of his word flew over his head, leaving him confused as he was most of the time when Techno spoke in riddles.

“Good night Technoblade,” he settled on resting his head on his pillow.

“Good night Theseus,” he whispered back, blowing out the last candle disappearing into the hallway.

Chapter Text

“Tommy, why do you look so glum?”

“I don’t want to play music with Wilbur. Nobody in Dad’s courts like me, they whisper things at me. I don’t want to be in a room full of them!”

“They whisper things at you?”

“Well I think they do. When I walk past them I hear them say things to me and they’re really not nice things Mom. I think a fresh bar of soap will do them good,” he suggested as his mother brushed her soft nails through the knots of his curls. A brush would do his hair no good, it needed a mother touch.

“If all of that’s true then I agree. Me and your father know how hard it is to get along with them, but having your big brother around should help it. His music drowns out the worst of sounds,” she said with a smile and Tommy could do nothing but smile back. He didn’t understand it but he trusted his mother. He wished he could be more like his mother. It was clear that he was nothing like Wilbur and his Father, but his Mom was different. 

She never wore the same clothes as the other ladies in the courts wear. Her dresses were always different shades of black with purple shawls that dragged along with her dress. Her lips were always painted darkly. He didn’t know how she got her lips that color but it was all he ever saw so he thought it looked nice.

Tommy would say he liked it the most when she’d wear her hat. It seemed like a family thing to wear a hat of some sort (even Technoblade wore a crown, sometimes) but his Mother never stopped there, the golden tassels that hung from her hat could be seen from anywhere and the veil that came attached floated around her keeping her in a little bubble. When he was younger he’d hide there and that was his little space as well.

“I can’t be like Wilbur, Mom.”

“I’m not telling you to be. I want you to be the best Tommy you can be.That’s what makes you my little sundrop,” she says, pressing a kiss in his hair. “When you have to sit in front of all of those old men and play music with your brother. Play as if you were only playing for me and drown out those bad voices. Then you won’t hear a thing.” 

“Do you promise?”

“I do and just like your father I always keep my promises.”

“Okay, fine I’ll continue to play the violin but I won’t like it,” he huffed, causing his mother to smile.

“Along as you try then that’s all I ask for. Now you should get your coat on and get ready to leave, you don’t want to be late for your lesson,” she says, handing him his coat.

“Got it,” he said, slipping his arms through the sleeves and heading towards the door.

“Don’t forget to take the violin with you Tommy,” she chuckled.

“Of course not Mom, Technoblade makes me carry it everywhere I go,” he sighed, looking at the instrument like it was cursed.

“I know you don’t like it, Tommy but you’re 11 now and a very smart young boy. You may have some issues now with everything but this might help keep your mind off of things,” his mom smiled again knowing it would relax him again about the constant doubt of playing. 

“You know I’m not cut out for these types of things, Mom. I have sword practice with Technoblade.”

“Technoblade is a great violin player, I asked him to teach you, knowing that it would help you if he continued to teach you and by his reports you seem to be doing well.”

“That’s what he said?”

“He thinks you have great potential Tommy, and it would be such a shame to let a good talent go to waste. Plus I’d never get to hear you play with Wilbur,” she sighed as they walked through the mazes of hallways.

“You want to hear me play?” A small part of him hoped she said yes. He gave up on trying his new and special move of his father when it was clear he’d never get that attention from him. His mother on the other hand was a different story.

“I’d love to hear it.”

“Y’know you keep driving a hard bargain for learning the violin. It’s not like I can stop now, Technoblade doesn’t let me quit things.”

“Good, that means he’s teaching you well. He’s a good man, you should learn everything you can from him. Now chin up, Tommy, you’re too young for frown wrinkles,” she laughed, tickling and pinching his chubby cheeks.

“Okay, okay Mom- Mom stop you’ll ruin my manly look. I have an image to uphold, my friends see me a certain way,” he laughed, pulling away from soft fingers.

“Is this that Tubbo boy you keep mentioning?”

“Yes it’s him, and I want you to meet him someday soon,” he said hopefully.

“I’d love to meet your friend but the sun is climbing up there. Don’t be late now,” his mother said, walking Tommy to the main doors. Tommy waved to his mom before he left. He didn’t like doing Wilbur-ish things but his Dad and Mom liked these sorts of things, and he wasn't the type to just give up. He was pretty good if he said so himself, it would look cowardly if he just stopped now.

“Salutations, Boss man. What’s with the tiny guitar?” As he came up to their practice field a friend popped his head out from the grass, dropping flowers he’s collected from his hand.

“It’s a violin, Tubbo. My parents say as I get older I have to start learning more scholarly things and my mom asked Technoblade to teach me the violin so I can join Wilbur in the court playing for delegates,” he groaned. He tried to discard it before he met with his friend but his conscience wouldn’t let him.

“True, plus I did suggest the violin for you,” Technoblade hummed, walking out from the trees and into the clearing. The boys watched Technoblade pull out his own violin, old polished wood, with only a few scratches of experience.

“Why would you do something like that? You should have fought against it,” Tommy whined.

“There’s no fighting against your mother's decisions, she’s way too stubborn for that. So I offered that you play the violin because it’s an instrument I’ve mastered. This was the best option, now are you ready for practice?” He asked, holding his violin to his chin. When he put the chin rest to his chin he no longer looked like a man of war but a man of great power that called to them differently than when they’ve seen him with a weapon.

“No need to drag it out,” Tommy sighed, mirroring Technoblade’s image.

“Can I stay and watch?”

“Never stopped you before, just don’t distract me,” he said as his fingers found it’s first notes. Tubbo watched them with interest, having never heard the instruments played before.

“D major,” he said, breaking the bubble of awe in his eyes before he started playing and Tommy joined. Tommy allowed his fingers to flow around the strings, with more grace than he’d like to admit. With each mess up Technoblade would wordlessly go back a measure or two and replay it for Tommy to catch up. 

“Try G minor,” Techno instructed before the tempo changed just as soon as it started. Sounds rushing out of the instruments like flooding water. Soon Tommy’s fingers were moving faster than Tubbo could keep track of. It was clear to Tubbo, that this is a bit more than what Tommy was complaining about. Tommy was good at this, way better than he gave himself credit for.

Tubbo feels like he’s hearing a private conversation between the two of them he shouldn’t be listening to. Like a story being told and there he was, listening like they weren’t telling unknown secrets. It overwhelmed him, swallowing him in a pit, trapping in the pained emotions they were throwing at him. Suddenly there was something running down his face, his hands reached to wipe his cheek.

“Back to D,” a voice cut threw his thoughts like striking down an enemy and Tubbo couldn’t do anything but watch as they fiddled with strings as strongly as they did when clashing weapons. The strength they’d use to try to bring the other into a stalemate that would eventually leave the echoing of metal in the field and swords drawn back to first position.

Tommy put his bow down, looking at Technoblade for approval of his growth. Instead he found Techno’s eyes on the one behind him and wordlessly changed his gaze. Tears of an unknown emotion shown in his eyes.

“Why do you play so angrily Tommy? It sounds so sad, why are you sad Tommy?”

“Sad? I thought it was quite soothing besides the early mistakes. Are you telling me my music is depressing?”

“No, it was soothing but it was also very angry compared to Technoblade’s version,” he said looking between the two. Tommy couldn’t understand what Tubbo was saying, he was just playing the music Wilbur told him to learn. There was nothing else to it.

“Well Tommy, are you going to answer his question?”

“I just did. There is no anger or sandness behind me playing, it’s just a stupid song I have to learn. It was peaceful and soothing like Technoblade’s and maybe a little bit better than Wilbur’s.”

“When you play music Tommy you speak without saying words,” Technoblade explains, trying to help him connect to music he was playing. He’d never admit it to the boy but he was surprised that Tubbo was able to sense such an underlying feeling, something covered so deeply even Tommy didn’t notice it.

“What? That makes absolutely no sense, you know I can’t understand you when you talk in riddles.”

“It’s not a riddle, you asked me why I was crying. I only meant to say that your playing moved me to tears.”

“That was really deep Tubbo I like it,” Tommy smiled, watching his best friend stutter over words he couldn’t hear.

“Maybe you should try this stuff out, you and Wilbur would be the perfect model sons for the delegates and everyone else in town,” he says, handing off the instruments to Tubbo who’s stuttering and protest was swallowed by the excitement of the other. The boys struggle for a moment, Tommy focused on getting his idea into action and Tubbo desperately trying to stop him.

“Is there an issue?” Technoblade says, slightly concerned but not in any rush to actually break it up. They were boys after all.

“Technoblade problem there is not,” Tubbo calls over when they finally separate.

“Really?”

“Sure, but you might just want to watch this,” Tommy says excitedly, pushing the chinrest of the violin to Tubbo’s face.

“Just tell me what you want to do, Tommy,” Tubbo whined, as he complied with Tommy's manhandling.

“Just put your fingers like this- c’mon Tubbo you’ve got to be more flexible then that-”

“I’m trying.”

“Yeah, yeah now hold the bow like this and press,” he instructed, stepping back from Tubbo giving him the space he needed to play the note. It came out shy and meek barely able to be heard between the three of them.

“See look at that you’re natural,” Tommy cheered.

“You could barely hear it.”

“Don’t criticize, this is just his voice then,” Tommy said, not knowing if he used the phrase right. Technoblade looked at him trying to read what was on his mind, but smiled and sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” he mused, ruffling the kids’ hair before walking off.

“Hey where are you doing, Technoblade?”

“Your father is calling,” he calls over his shoulder.

“No he’s not, there's nothing in the sky,” Tommy huffed.

“I know Philza and right now he’s screaming for me. You’re dismissed today, go have fun,” he said disappearing into the forest.

“Technoblade am I right?” Tubbo chuckled.

“That’s the Blade for ya.”

“So, what do you want to do now?” Tubbo asked as he hopped off of the rock he sat on and picked up the discarded flowers from earlier. He handed the flowers over to Tommy and most of them dipped over falling in his palm.

“Why do they always do that when you give me flowers?”

“I don’t know but let me do the thing that usually gets them up again,” Tubbo says, waving his hands over the flowers watching as the flowers start to perk upwards.

“If you can do this for my mom when you meet her then I’m sure she'll love you. She has a bunch of these dark roses in our backyard,” he says, spinning the flowers between his fingers.

“Dark roses?”

“They might be black roses actually, but I know she grows them everywhere except in the front of the house.”

“I’ve never heard of those before, maybe Ranboo has,” Tubbo hums as they start walking.

“I doubt it, if you don’t know why would he?”

“Well I know more about flowers than Tubbo does,” a young boy tripped out of a bush falling into Tommy’s arms. The boy wore a flower crown on top of his braided hair no doubt done by Tubbo and mixed match colored eyes. He sheepishly chuckled as he dropped all of his weight on Tommy, laughing as the boy winced to keep them upwards.

“How-How long were you waiting there?” He groaned, as he felt some of the items in his hands start to slip. Tubbo laughed, helping Ranboo to his feet before they continued walking, bumping into each other as their feet walked them down the path.

“15 long minutes, I thought you’d be back way sooner than when you guys came. Which reminds me, what’s with the tiny guitar?” Ranboo said, looking at the instrument with interest.

“It’s a violin,” he sighed.

“Tommy has to play it for his dad, but when he does it sounds angry,” Tubbo informed him and Ranboo took great note of this, marking it in his mind.

“It does not. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I know what anger sounds like, don’t listen to him Ranboo. It’s angry, but nice to listen to. Tommy you should play for him,” Tubbo suggested and Ranboo laughed agreeing.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“C’mon I want to hear it,” Ranboo chuckled, joining in with Tubbo’s teasing.

“No, I don’t want to play any more, I only play if I have to.”

“Well then why did you bring it?”

“I’m not supposed to leave it anywhere, Technoblade would kill me,” he shuddered, thinking about the last time he didn’t listen to an instruction Technoblade gave him. It didn’t end too well.

“I wanna hear something Tommy,” Ranboo pouted. “You gave Tubbo a free show and now I want one too, play for me Tommy.” 

“No Ranboo.”

“Do it or I’ll make sure you can never find the stupid thing again, it’s wood right?”

“Don’t threaten it, he can hear you,” he said, holding the violin closer to his chest.

“Then play for me, please,” he said, actually asking this this time. Tommy looked between his two friends. Tubbo, with a smile on his face. Ranboo, with genuine interest. He sighed, stopping in his tracks, he placed the flowers down gently on the flower and brought the chinrest to his chin readying to play another sad song.

Chapter Text

“This is it!”

“This?”

“Yup, this is it!”

“This looks like a lot of trees, way more than I’d like to deal with.”

“But don’t you see it, Techno? Some houses over there, maybe have some ports and well pumps over there. Wouldn’t it look nice?” He presented the idea with a smile, his wings freely at it’s full mass, flapping as they carried him back and forth as if he was pacing.

“No, I don’t see it, Philza. I see trees and work, when I should be seeing the back of my eyelids.”

“Jeez, Technoblade you sound like an old man,” Philza laughed, placing an arm on his best friend.

“I am an old man. A very old man, my adventure days are over, I want to sleep in,” he groaned.

“Well that doesn’t sound like the Technoblade I know. With this village we can have all that and more. A resting place, something small for the people that’ll live here and will never have to know a life that we have. We can save people for once,” Philza lowered himself to the ground, looking at Technoblade pleadingly. It unsettled the man. Dreams and hopes were for foolish people, they knew that but Technoblade couldn’t blame him for wanting to try.

“ Fine ,” he sighed, taking off his shirt and pulling his hair into a bun. He could feel Philza looking at him. He ignored it, believing that the man wouldn’t call him soft if he pretended there was no blush on his cheeks. Techno was right, Phil didn’t call him soft but he did coo at the taller man.

“ Fine ? Like yes?” His usual cackle bubbling out of his lips.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, I don't think this will work out, like at all. Still, you’re fighting for this and for some reason we always fight together,” Technoblade shugs, pulling two axes out of the air.

“We fight together because you’re my friend and when I promised you I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, I meant to keep it. For our forever,” he said smiling at his best friend, clenching the emerald on his chest, looking at the matching gem hanging from Techno’s ear. It wasn’t often they got sappy like that, they had lifetimes for feelings like that. This time he wanted something they could call their own, trying a little harder than they have before.

“Tech.”

“…”

“Techno.”

“...”

“Technoblade!”

“Huh? What is it!?”

“Look,” Philza pointed excitedly to the house with the small flame flickering from the window.

“A fire? Wow, that's so impressive.” Every word he said was laced with sarcasm and sleepiness. He gave Phil a glare with little heat to it, snuggled  back into the trunk of the tree he laid in and closed his eyes once more.

"That's not my fire, someone must have seen our sign. Let's introduce ourselves,” he whispered, not ashamed of the giddiness tied to his voice.

“It’s late, you'd probably scare them off.”

“I doubt it,” he scoffed.

“I don’t.”

“Are you saying I look threatening?”

“Phil, I know you’re threatening. You should wait until you’re out of your element,” he suggested, peeking over at the man. He loomed over Technoblade, his wings barely making a sound as they moved.

“This is our first human, aren't you the least bit excited?”

“I’m so happy, I can’t wait to meet them,” the sarcasm nearly dripping off his voice.

“This isn’t fair! I’m going over there, you can watch from your tree,” he huffed, falling gracefully to the ground. He heard Technoblade scoff but he felt his eyes following him so he was fine. As Philza got closer to the house he heard soft humming coming from inside, the light of the moon giving him a small peak at the black roses planted at the door. They were pretty, although they were not there this morning.

He took a breath as he got to the door, before he had the chance to knock, the door opened by a woman who smiled.

“Hello.”

“Uh- Hello I’m-”

“I know who you are, Philza, carrier of spirits and your friend Technoblade, the blood collector and lover of war. I’m Kirstin, lover of death,” she smiled, a rose appearing in her hand.

“Unofficial names then, you should know Kristin that this will be a human village-”

“So I’ve read. Your sign just outside of the land you’ve claimed, is very… cute,” she chuckled.

“Cute?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like it, you want to rule humans.”

“Not rule, we want to live with them in peace.”

“Peace? The two of you, is that even possible? Even I have a better chance of that than you guys,” she scoffed.

“Not as a lover of death you don’t. So I don’t think you should stay, our kind don’t flock in groups.”

“I think I’ll stay just to prove you wrong,” she smirked.

“My friend won’t be too happy about it,” he said, with the quirk of an eyebrow.

“Well good thing we’re friends too. I’ll see you in the morning Philza, carrier of spirits,” she says, handing him the dried up rose.

“We’ll see about that, Kristin, lover of death,” he said, accepting the gift before flying into the night.

“You nervous?”

“...Well they don’t really cover these types of things in our line of work,” he chuckled, fidgeting with his robes. They were less extravagant than what he usually wore, just a plain green and white overcoat with sandals. He kept his emerald tucked, hidden from view and his normal small little bucket hat, with the gold trimming. As a comfort of course.

“Don’t be too much of a downer, that's my job, your job is to talk to your people.”

“Our people,” Phil corrects. “You had a hand in this too.”

“I may have but I don’t do public things. I’ll just stand behind you and grunt.”

“Grunt? Like a pig w-why would you need to do that?” He laughed, placing a hand on his friend.

“To make sure you laugh and give the people that charming smile of yours,” Technoblade smirked, mirroring Philza’s gesture with his hand.

“It’s almost time,” Philza said, looking up at the sun.

“You’ve given speeches before,” Techno deadpans.

“This is not a war speech, Technoblade.”

“I know that Philza, doesn’t stop the fact that you’re addressing a crowd of people that’s looking up to you. Plus if you get nervous, look in the front row,” he suggested.

“The front row? What-”

“Well, we’re out of time so…” Technoblade barked out a laugh as he pushed Philza through the curtains. Through the slips of space you could see the man frozen in time slightly panting as he got a look of the people in their new village. He felt the eyes of tens of people staring at him; he held the attention of crowds much larger than this yet he still couldn’t find his voice to speak. 

So he did the only thing he could do, he trusted Technoblade and searched the front row of seats until his eyes stopped on a woman dressed in a long concealing black dress, arms covered by a shawl with purple and gold markings and her recognizable length of hair sealed away partly with a hat that covered her eyes.

In finding her, he found his voice once again and spoke his first public address to his people, with his best friend beside him.

For centuries the small village grew into a town similar to the present one. Philza and Technoblade continued to watch over their people with care they didn’t know beings like them could have. For some reason, unknown to them, their people never wonder how their rulers always looked nearly exactly the same as the past ones. Human’s created the silliest stories to make up explanations for things they couldn’t understand and the two of them never bothered to correct them in that matter. 

This was their final settling and with settling came domestic life. Something Philza adapted to better than Technoblade did. He’d still disappear for weeks, maybe months at a time before returning just to see if the town was still standing. Then he’d visit his friend in the main house at the center of town and take his spot back, at his right hand and no one would question it. He wouldn’t allow himself to get attached, not like Philza did and definitely not how he was now.

After a year or so of long traveling he found himself walking up marble steps pushing in the gray painted doors to his home and suddenly he knew something was different. He walked the memorized path to their shared office only to find that he wasn’t there. This wasn’t uncommon for the man to travel around the house exploring rooms he’s never seen before, the house was a gift from the people, they wandered around sometimes. 

So why couldn’t he shake the fact that this was different? His searching became a little more frantic as old thoughts of hostage situations and decades of desperate slaughtering on both sides until the other was found. Images of war flashing in his mind when they were forced to fight on opposite sides no matter how strong or powerful they were.

Technoblade ran past the kitchen panickedly ready to search the other side of the house when he noticed that the back door was open. He carefully approached the door with his sword drawn and stepped into the backyard. The sun shined directly into his eyes blinding him for a moment, but when the light died down he could see clearly again and he felt himself relieved to see the view in front of him was nothing like the ideas his mind fed to him. 

A murder of crows flew over his head and rustling came out from the bushes. He held his weapon higher, ready to strike down whoever’s there but out from the hanging leaves of the weeping willows Kristin and Philza appeared holding a bundle of fabric in their hands, whispering words that only they could hear.

“Phil?” The man looked upwards from his arms and gazed at his long term friend, something flashed in his eyes but he simply hid it with a smile.

“Welcome home, Technoblade,” Philza said softly and Kristin waved, walking up to Technoblade with a smile of her own. When she came close enough she placed a hand on his cheek brushing a thumb on his face.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, looking back at Philza one more time before walking in the house, closing the door behind her. The two of them were silent, they’ve never talked after Technoblade returned from who knows where. Then again he’s never left for so long, and things never would change much when he was gone. None of these things applied now.

“I-” just as he went to speak a cry echoed throughout the yard and Technoblade looked around confused searching for something while Philza looked at the bundle in his arms and shushed it, whispering soft sorrys for making too much noise.

“We should talk,” he whispered this time, checking his arms. Technoblade nodded, putting his sword away before Philza started walking towards him.

“What is that?” He asked, unsure of why he was whispering, he just knew if Philza did something, sometimes it was smart to do the same.

“This is someone who I’d like for you to meet.”

“Who?”

“My son,” he said with the proudest smile and looked back into his arms just to see his boy looking right back at him.

Technoblade took the risk to look as well, seeing the small round face for the first time. “Your son?” He repeated softly.

“This is my boy,” he says, presenting the boy to Technoblade who could only look at them with an unreadable face.

“Phil, how did- no when did this happen?”

“He’s just over a month old now, he was crowned prince by the people 3 days ago,” at the mention of the event his eyes glazed over again this time staying perfectly where Technoblade could see it.

“I sent a crow out for you 2 days in advance before his birth Technoblade, 4 days before his ceremony and you come now?” He wanted to shout. He wanted to scream, to curse, to pull out his sword and make Techno feel his anger and frustration because how could be so blind as not to show up for something as important as this? Yet he contained himself, for his son, for the town, for centuries of friendship he’d never thrown away.

“I saw them.” He heard Technoblade say and maybe his temper wasn’t as under control as he thought.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I saw them but I was busy doing things that needed to be done, and when I finished it just so happened to be yesterday so I came back.”

“I’ve connected you to me Techno you can’t just leave whenever you’d like.” Technoblade just rolled his eyes. He didn’t ask for all the care he could see in those icy blue eyes, they hurt his soul and haunted his mind.

“I don’t remember your little golden chain actually stopping me from doing what I want. As long as I come back it shouldn’t be a problem,” he scoffed, pushing him away.

“Things aren’t the same as before, we have no more things or ties outside this village. This is what we worked for. Why can’t you just stay here?” There it was. Phil was pleading for something, fighting for something again and Technoblade wished he could tell him no.

“You should know the answer to that.” 

“Well I don’t Technoblade. I have a family now, my son is my life and I want him to grow up here, not on battlefields,” he said defeated, he wasn’t giving up, he just didn’t know what else to do.

“We’re supposed to be fighting together,” Technoblade whispered, reminding Philza of promises made on fields of death and horror.

“Can’t we rest now?” He asked before the babe in his arms started crying. He hushed the boy’s cry, snuggling him closer to his chest and cooing in his ear, until he quieted down for the second time.

“I can’t do things like that,” he said, pointing out the exact reason why Phil should let him go like the voices demanded.

“You can learn.”

“If I fail?”

“The Technoblade I know never does,” Philza chuckled.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure about that,” he said awkwardly, looking at the child. He’s seen children in the village, young ones like the one Phil was holding and little ones no older than 13 playing without a care in the world. He only talked to one, who ended up crying even though he tried his best to make himself look friendly. How could Phil trust him when he’s killed children decades before, hell weeks before he could bring himself to look him in the eye. He wanted Technoblade to settle, but the man wasn’t sure if he had what it takes.

“You never know unless you try, why don’t you hold him?”

“Hold him?”

“Yeah, just support the head and relax your arms,” he instructed as Techno’s protest to the matter was swallowed up by his excitement.

“Phil no wait- Philza don’t,” he stood there frozen in place as the small bundle weighed in his arms. Philza laughed, his usual cackle at how stiff Technoblade looked holding the wiggling child.

“Phil. Philza he’s moving , what do I do?”

“Just hold’em,” he said, laughing harder.

“I am, what if he moves out of my arms and I drop him?”

“That should be impossible for you. You’ve never once dropped a sword but you get defeated by a baby?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he muttered, taking a risked glace down at his arms. The baby struggled to free an arm from the securely wrapped blanket and made a waving motion with his arm.

“Did he just wave at me?” He asked, his cheeks going a light pink like his hair.

“Yes he did Softnoblade-”

“What?”

“…Since he seems to like you, would you like to know his name?”

“Sure,” he said, ignoring Phil’s first part of the sentence. Relaxing, a bit more as the baby started to calm from its movement.

“We named him Wilbur.” Then the babe opened his eyes, as if he was answering to his called name.

“Wilbur?” Techno snorted, but stopped after a sharp glare from Phliza. “N-not to judge or anything but you guys go with his unofficial name instead of-”

“We don’t know if he’s like us yet. When he gets old enough to choose then he’ll pick his name until then his name is Wilbur,” he said softly gazing at him.“Wilbur, meet your uncle, Technoblade. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but I’m sure you’ll love him,” he promised and after all, he always keeps his promises.

That night Philza felt something in the air shift. Him and Technoblade were out working the fields preparing for a new spring like always. Techno did the clearing work and Philza planted behind him, working as a well oiled machine. The feeling was persistent, he tried to ignore it but wouldn’t leave him alone. Then suddenly as if sensing the unknown feeling within him two crows flew over his head and a burst of joy lit within him.

“Technoblade we need to go!” He shouted, snapping Techno out of the daze of working.

“Huh? What is it? Are we under attack?” Technoblade asked, preparing to pull out a sword.

“It’s Kirstin, she’s having the baby now,” Philza said and once he realized what he said panic kicked in. Dropping the shovel in his hand he flew over to Technoblade grabbing his hand.

“What are you doing? You’re flying,” he whisper-shouted, as they flew over the planting fields.

“Mate, it’s night time no one will see,” he said excitedly as the house grew closer in the distance.

“It’s still risky,” he warned but could tell Philza wasn’t listening. His child was about to be born after all, he wasn’t there for the first but this one had apparently been harder for Kirstin. Plus a small part of himself wouldn’t be upset if he admitted that he too was excited to see his new nephew. Philza wouldn’t let him miss this birth even if the world was ending.

Upon entering the house, there was chatter and aids running all over the place. Philza grabbed Technoblade and ran to the designated nursing room, gently pushing people out of the way. Outside the door, stood a boy with shorts and a shirt way too big to be his. He ditched the group of maids that surrounded him and walked over to them reaching up for his dad.

“Hey there bud, are you ready to meet your little brother?” He asked and the boy nodded excitedly.

“Before you go in there, we’ve gotten news from the doctor.” A nurse stopped him by the door and looked at him with sorrow in her eyes. Wordlessly, he handed Wilbur to Techno before she whispered the information in his ear. Technoblade heard a small gasp from Philza but nothing else. When the nurse stepped back and turned her head, Philza looked back at them with a strained smile.

“Wil, you might have to wait a bit,” he said, running a quick hand through the boy’s hair. He felt Technoblade staring at him, questioning the reason for his strange behavior, he ignored him. “Stay here with Techno while I check on your mom?”

“I wanna go,” the boy said, reaching out for his father but Philza held his hand giving it a small kiss before letting go. “Papa I wanna go.”

“Just a few minutes Wilbur,” he promised and slipped behind the door. In the room there was a row of doctors and a single bed where Kristin laided, tears running down her face.

“Is that him?” He looked to one of the doctors, who nodded as he got closer to the bed. Kristin looked up at him and her tears ran down faster. Philza hushed her as softly as he could and sat next to her on the bed looking down in her arms. 

“They say he only has a couple of hours,” she sobbed and held the boy near her chest, in hopes that if he heard her heartbeat, his would do the same.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes burning with tears as he hugged his wife and his hands softly brushing against his son’s head. He’d seen countless deaths before, he’s caused countless amounts as well, yet he wouldn’t remember any as he would the death of his son.

“Hey Tommy,” he whispered. “I don’t know if you can hear me but please come back to us. You’re my little warrior, you’ve fought so hard to get here. Please, just cry so I know you’ll stay,” he begged, just as the door opened and bits of the chaos from outside was let in.

“Wilbur wait-” 

“I wanna see my brother,” he huffed, marching through the crowds of arms that tried to stop him. As he walked to the foot of the bed, Technoblade forced his way through the people blocking him out and made eye contact with Phil before his eyes dropped to his son. Wilbur climbed on the bed and crawled over to the center where his mother and father sat.

“Wilbur, I told you to wait,” Philza said, trying to be stern, as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Is that him?” Wilbur asked instead, pointing to the baby in his mother’s lap. Kirstin gave a wet chuckle and nodded.

“Yeah Wilbur, this is your brother Tommy,” she sniffled, and slowly but surely Wilbur raised a finger to Tommy’s face and poked him on the cheek.

“Is he sleeping?” Technoblade heard Wilbur ask and the choked sob that forced its way into Philza’s throat gave him the answer before he explained it to Wilbur.

“D-Do you remember that night when we were catching fireflies in jars? You wanted to keep them by your bed for the lights so I told you to make sure there were holes in the lid, but you forgot and in the morning their lights were dimmed. Do you remember what we called that?”

“Forever sleeping,” Wilbur hummed, not sure what that had to do with his new baby brother. His brother wasn’t a firefly, he could not forever sleep.

“That’s right, you see Tommy’s light is fading a bit and the doctors say he might only have a bit before his light goes out too,” Philza whispers, bringing his oldest into his arms. Wilbur stood corrected with that one sentence as his father held him. Apparently you didn’t need to be a firefly to forever sleep and that was a concept his little 4 year old mind couldn’t understand.

“He’s forever sleeping?” 

“No, not yet, we have time. Is there anything you want to tell your brother?” Kristin asked, shifting over so Wilbur could see Tommy better.

“Hi Tommy. Y-you just got here but now it seems like you’re leaving,” Wilbur started not knowing what to say. He only knew that this was his brother, and now he’d be gone. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to play him a song on the new guitar his mom had made for him. He couldn’t leave before that. “Dad I want him to wake up,” Wilbur sniffled, looking up at Phil, eyes wet with tears.

“I know bud, me too but Tommy’s strong and with a big brother like you, he’ll stay around.” It was a shaky promise, founded in a lie, something he couldn’t hold himself to but he’d have to. For his sons he’d promise them the world and would go to hell and back until he could serve it to them on a silver platter.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he kissed Wilbur on the cheek, as his eyes drifted over to Technoblade who stood silently throughout the entire thing. Technoblade, the one who said he didn’t fit the role of an uncle. The one learned how to hush a crying child and scare away monsters that were believed to be hidden in closets or under beds. The one that looked at the small halo of sunlight in Kristin’s arms with a pain in his face Phil couldn’t even imagine to understand. Like there was something more he’d never get the chance to know.

A doctor cleared his throat drawing the attention to him, an unspoken conversation left his wife sobbing, Wilbur upset and his heart broken.

“Can everyone leave?” His eyes fell back to Technoblade and without a word he made the doctors and nurses leave, not giving another glance back as he left. 

The family sat there holding Tommy. The clock across the room teasing them, as they waited and watched. Kristin stayed up for as long as she could but the fatigue of birth took over and she laid soundly curled up into Phil’s chest. Wilbur followed shortly after, playing idly with the ends of his mothers hair. 

It was only Phil that stayed up, pressing Tommy to his chest rocking him as though he was only asleep. Leaving Technoblade by himself sitting outside the door connected to the family in all ways except for blood. It was a rare sight to see the warrior like this, his eyes glistening, frazzled strands of hair in his face; hoping for a sign, hoping he wasn’t too foolish to believe that he could hold his nephew at least once before the Goddess of Death had to take him away. 

Phil barely noticed it, the sun starting to edge itself into the sky and Tommy was still breathing. It was shallow and small but the breath was there and that was all the family needed to give them hope. Then their hope grew as hours became days, then days turned into weeks and the small breath in Tommy’s chest didn’t seem to want to give out. So the Craft family went on charging through whatever grief tried to pull at them, trying to make a new normal.

Kristin laid by Tommy for hours at a time during the day resting as Phil worked on the floor of the room. He refused to leave the two by themselves ordering every meal and important letters were left outside the door. Wilbur would ramble about his day, tunelessly picking at his guitar strings to the unmoving boy. It pained Phil to see Wilbur kneel on the ground next to Tommy’s crib, resting his head on the bed to sleep there. Unwilling to leave in case the boy would open his eyes at least once while he’s gone and misses it.

Doctors warned them not to get their hopes up, that there was only a matter of time but the family was stubborn.

It had been nearly two months before Philza saw him open his eyes for the first time. They were blue like a cloudy day that the sun couldn’t help but shine down on, calm and tranquil unlike the icy blue ocean Phil carried. At that moment he couldn’t help but tell everyone around. Such a simple thing could have been overlooked for anyone else but for him it meant the world. The town celebrated with lanterns, their youngest prince wouldn’t be taken from them. Not yet.

After that celebration it would be 5 months before Technoblade allowed himself to hold his nephew for the first time. Growing attached to the boy with the sun straw hair and the sky blue eyes. The town celebrated that day too, crowning him the young prince only 3 days after. Sealing him into their hearts. Nobody could explain how he continued to live with such shallow breath but Philza did.

It was clear, he was one of them.

Chapter Text

Tommy was restless, there was a soft chanting in his head that made him feel uneasy. Like something was forcing its way on him and he could do nothing but flinch and swipe away at phantom hands.

 “I can’t do this, I want to leave,” he says, suddenly jumping up from his seat having enough of whatever was toying with him.

“Tommy relax.”

“I-I fucking can’t Wibur, I want to be out in the fields right now fighting or doing anything else. This is too much for me,” he says looking at his brother. Wilbur looked at the fear on his brother’s face and walked over to him placing an arm on his shoulder.

“Why are you so nervous?”

“I don’t like it here Wilby, I just wanna play and leave,” he whined, as every part of his body told him to run and oh how he wanted to listen, but Wilbur was here. Wilbur’s arm kept him still, kept him grounded in place.

“Don’t worry you get used to it. We won’t have to play for another 15 minutes, you just need to collect your breath and-”

“Mom didn’t tell you much about this did she?”

“She’s told me enough,” he hummed.

“Then you should know that this is not some type of fucking stage fright. I don’t want to be in a room with a bunch of wrongens.”

“Well then you should know what Mother said about my music. Just listen to what I play, my music speaks louder than them,” he says hugging Tommy. He doesn’t know why his younger brother was fated with such struggles but he’d protect him as much as he could. If his parents say that his music is the way he’d do it then he’d strum his guitar everyday until Tommy could find peace.

“You know that I work better with a sword in my hand,” Tommy chuckled.

It grew silent before Wilbur sighed, checking the hanging clock behind Tommy’s head. “Yeah, I know Tommy,” he hummed and reached for his guitar along with handing Tommy his violin.

“Is it time now?” Tommy said worriedly. He at least figured his dad would come and wish him luck before he went out there to where the voices seemed to be lurking. Phil knew about the voices just as much as Kristen did. He just didn’t seem to care.

“Just about, but what if we left?” His brother asked him, spooking out of his thoughts.

“We left?”

“Yeah what if we just leave? You don’t want to be here and I can go a day without having to play for a crowd, so we should leave,” he shrugged, tossing Tommy’s coat in his arms.

“Wilbur, have you lost your damn mind? Dad will be furious. Mom will run ragged. Technoblade- oh fuck don’t get me started on Technoblade he’ll make me run laps for days. Now, Wilbur I know I look strong but laps make me incredibly weak you just don’t want to see that,” he whined. He was a strong big man, just not when it came to laps.

“Are you done crying yet Tommy? If you are, we'll leave a note if it’ll make you feel better and then we can leave out the back,” he says scribbling some words on a piece of paper, pinning it to the wall.

“I’m not a fucking puss man-”

“Tommy language, someone could hear,” he scolded.

“Man this is awesome,” Tommy ignored him, trading in his fear for excitement. “I didn’t know a stick in the mud like you could be so cool.”

“Tommy, this is a normal Tuesday for me,” Wilbur chuckled, pulling a part of the curtain back, revealing a small path. “Now if we go out right here it’ll take us to the courtyard and we can leave through the forest,” he whispered, leading Tommy through the narrow hallway.

“Why the fuck are you whispering I can barely hear you.”

“The walls are thin Tommy we can get caught if we’re too loud.”

“Makes sense,” Tommy nodded as they got to the end and Wilbur opened the door. The sun still shines bright on their day, it was early after all. Wilbur looked around and walked into the open air taking a deep breath in. Then Wilbur grabbed Tommy’s hand, they walked through the forest of hanging leaves from the willow trees until they got to wild grass, it was clear that no one could see or hear them from where they were but Wilbur kept going.

“Wilby, where are we going?”

“Farther away,” he said briefly, fixing the strap of his guitar on his chest as they walked and continued the journey. Tommy found himself humming at an old tune as the wild grass got taller and the sounds of rushing water could be heard from off in the distance. This is where Wilbur stopped and turned around.

“Better?”

“There’s definitely no voices out here,” Tommy said looking around.

“Good then pick up your violin and play with me,” Wilbur instructed, tuning his guitar.

“What? I thought we came all this way so I didn’t have to play.”

“I said we were leaving because you didn’t want to play there. If you don’t play there then you play here, that’s the rules,” he said, strumming familiar notes. Tommy scoffed as his brother looked at him expectedly.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“You know the song.”

“Yeah I know it, I’ve never played it though.”

“It’s simple enough just follow along,” he ordered, as his random strumming turned into a tune Tommy knew by heart. He hesitated for a moment before bringing the violin to his chin and played what he thought fitted the song. 

“Wilbur, this doesn’t sound too nice,” Tommy said, pausing. Tommy knew it wasn’t sounding the way Wilbur intended. It didn't sound like anything, actually. Just the jumbled noise of his violin and a beautiful sounding guitar.

“Keep playing, the song isn’t done,” Wilbur rolled his eyes gesturing back to Tommy’s violin. 

“Fucking hell,” Tommy scoffed as their music filled the empty space between them. He didn’t feel like his playing did Wilbur’s any justice. He knew his brother had a talent and when he played with him, he felt as if he was tainting it somehow.

“You’re not listening to the music, your mind is drifting too far.” Tommy shook his head but knew Wilbur was right. The voices we’re only whispers right now but Tommy knew how dangerous whispers could be.

“I’m not as good as you when it comes to this. I can’t play music and make everyone smile, I make people upset and Tubbo cry. That’s why I hold a sword,” he said, dropping his violin in front of him. Wilbur stopped playing for a moment as Tommy tried to hold back his tears. He didn’t cry unless it was in front of Wilbur but this time his heart wouldn’t let him.

“When you’re with me Tommy you don’t have to be ‘good.’ I’m your older brother, of course everything I do looks better, that's just the logic that comes with having a brother. I’m sure if we were to spar you’d beat me because I can’t use a sword for the life of me. I’m only fairly decent with a bow and arrow,” he said, waving Tommy over to the spot next to him. Tommy took the invitation, sitting next to his brother leaning his head on his shoulder.

“That doesn’t make me feel better, Wilbur. The one thing that doesn’t matter to anyone, I can beat you in, am I supposed to smile because of that?”

“See this is what I don’t get, Tommy,” Wilbur said leaning his head on top of his head. “Why are you so sad? You used to tell me everything, but now everything you say is half hearted compliments and you putting yourself down. That’s not the Tommy I know.”

“Well, I guess it’s because my mind is fuckin’ scary man. I smile a lot and shit Wilbur but really I’m terrified because the voices won’t shut up. All I hear all day is ‘Mimimimi I can’t be Dad’s golden son mimimi because I’m nothing like him.’”

“Oh Tommy,” Wilbur started, wanting to do nothing more than to bring his brother in his arms like he did when they were younger and run his hands through his golden hair. Promising that he’d protect his little brother from anything that ever tried to hurt him. “Dad doesn't want you to be like him or like me, he wants to be Tommy and that’s enough. Have you ever talked to him about it, he’d tell you.”

“He doesn’t have to tell me to see it in his eyes, Dad looks at you and smiles. Then his eyes look at me and they drift away with nothing. I’m not Prince Wilbur, master of any instrument he’s touched and any topic he reads about. I’m Prince Tommy, master of the sword and disappointment.”

“Tommy, now you’re just being melodramatic, you do understand that we are very different from each other, but Dad cares and you may still have that childhood idea that he has favorites but rest assured it’s not true. I’ve seen Father do things for the both of us that he’d wouldn’t do for anyone else, those things you hear in town or from those nasty delegates in his court are wrong Tommy. So don’t listen to them, you’re supposed to be listening to my music, so sit back and relax now,” he instructed, as he felt Tommy shift around a bit, before leaning the whole weight of his head on Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Wilbur, how can you be so sure about everything?”

“You said it yourself, I can master any topic I’ve ever read about and the story of your life is one I’m well versed in,” he chuckled, as he pulled Tommy in closer before his hands fell back to his guitar and played a song he hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I remember this one,” Tommy yawned, his eyes getting heavy at the familiar lullaby. When he finally focused on the sounds of Wilbur’s fingers sliding up and down the neck of the guitar, the voices took a break. Maybe deciding to give him mercy for once as the sunset and he was at peace.

“I’d hope so,” Wilbur whispered, while Tommy hummed the old melody, falling asleep. Even after Tommy was snoring in his ear Wilbur continued to play for his brother and his dreams. A small gust of wind blew past them in the grass completing the calm atmosphere and stars started to fill the sky behind it. Wilbur watched all in silence, nature had its music of its own and listening cleared his mind as well.

He waited until the full moon of the night was high in the sky and it was just about midnight before he started to prepare to go home. He hadn’t the heart to wake Tommy up, so he prepared his guitar strap on his back and picked him up, carrying the violin in his free hand. Then Wilbur started on their way home, with the moon and the stars as his guide back.

The wild grass started to shrink in growth and the water of the river farther away. The moist dirt path started to turn into pebbles and stone. The trees in front of him started drooping their leaves into vine-like hair and the house started to become visible in the distance, until the lights from the kitchen were visible and he was able to hear the voices from inside.

Wilbur reached for the door in front of him, but it was opened from the other side; his mother with a frown etched in her face that only softed to see Tommy asleep in his arms. Silently she reached over taking Tommy and the violin from Wilbur and gave him a face. A face he knew well, so he sighed putting his guitar on the nearest wall and walked to his father’s office and opened the door.

“Wilbur?”

He gave a small wave, “Hi Dad.”

“Do you wanna explain today to me?”

“No, not really if we’re being honest,” he joked, but he could tell it wasn’t the time his dad only frowned.

“Wilbur I shouldn’t have to tell you how important today was for Tommy.”

“Yeah I know but I decided he wasn’t ready,” Wilbur said bravely. It was a risk, a walking on thin ice type of risk but what could he say? That’s what happens when you put him in charge and he has to make decisions.

Philza raised an eyebrow, “You decided?”

“Yes, I decided Tommy wasn’t ready. He already looked like he was going to run, I thought that it would be better if I went with him,” he explained further and his father’s frown only deepend.

“So that was the reason for the note?”

“I thought it captured my thoughts quite well.”

“‘We’re leaving, don’t follow.’ Is what you thought would be enough to justify this? I gave you the task of looking after Tommy,” he only raised his voice a little, massaging his temples.

“Yes I understand that but he wasn’t ready. If I would have let him go out there today and play for those men he would have dug himself into a worse hole than this,” Wilbur tried to bite the bitterness on his tongue. He wasn’t there, he knows his dad cares but he needed to show it more for Tommy’s sake.

“This was Tommy's trial, one he would have passed whether he knew he was ready for or not, Wilbur. You passed yours on time and today was meant for Tommy. You can’t decide that for him.”

“He feels like you’ve abandoned him! You can’t just throw him into his trial, like a bird taking flight he needs more time,” Wilbur said frustratedly. He knew what he was saying made sense and he knew that in some deep part of his father he was making sense as well, but his heart wouldn’t let him back down. It would take more than just strumming to take his pain away. He needed actual help and comfort, Wilbur could only do so much.

“I thought that you would have more faith in Tommy than that,” Philza said disappointedly. He looked at his oldest son, the tiredness of his eyes and the bags underneath them. The slight increase of his breath as he spoke about something they both were passionate about but had different opinions on how to handle it all. Although he was upset with the teen he was also proud.

He was smart and strong willed. His gift was doing him well, helping him mature faster than his child body could keep up with. Giving him knowledge way beyond his years, from the past and even bits of the future. Even blessing him with wings he kept hidden because it wasn't quite time for Tommy to know everything about his family. Wilbur knew this as well. Even though he had decades of wisdom, without experience he knew not what to do with it.

“I don’t understand,” he said softly.

“I know how Tommy feels, he’s my son just as you are. I know you want to protect Tommy but he needs to face his trials just like we all did and we never seem ready but things happen for a reason. I haven’t abandoned you nor him and deep down you both know it. This is just another trial, where we all have to play our part whether we know we’re doing it or not,” he said walking over to his oldest son. Philza gave him a hug with a soft kiss in his hair.

“This is not fair for him, I want to protect him from this.”

“I do too, but you can’t protect him from fate. The only thing we can do now is help him through everything,” he sighed, rubbing Wilbur’s back as he did when he was younger. The teen leaned into it sighing as a day's stress was released from his body.

“Do you really think he can do it?” His voice was muffled by his father’s shirt.

“He’s our little warrior, I know he can,” he promises.

“What if knowing isn’t enough? What if he needs more?”

“Then you believing will be. Just be there and watch him grow, you'll see what it can.”

“I just- I just want him to be safe, Dad,” Wilbur sighed.

“Me too, but we can’t change what’s written,” Philza says, giving him one more squeeze before letting go. “Wilbur, you should head to bed, it’s late.”

“Okay, good night Dad,” Wilbur smiled, waving a short farewell.

“Oh and by the way,” Philza says, stopping him by the door.

“Yeah?”

“Both you and Tommy are grounded for the rest of the week.” Wilbur groaned but didn’t mention anything else.

This would be a long week.

Chapter Text

The boys glared at each other from across the room. One with an arrow laying taunt in his bow. The other his sword up and a pillow in his hand. The oldest pulled back the string and let the arrow fly causing the younger duck.

“That one almost fucking hit me!”

“That’s the point you nimrod! If I have to stay in here and look at your dumb baby face for one more day I’ll go insane.”

“You take that back I do not have a baby face, I have the face of a man!”

“Yeah, if that man was a dwarf,” the older boy scoffed.

“This is your fault we’re here in the first place. I should have just stayed and played the stupid intrument.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, lowering his weapon for a moment. “Oh so now it’s my fault for wanting to be a good big brother? You were fucking terrified out there!”

“I would have gotten over it!”

“Yeah right, the moment the curtains would have opened you would have crapped your pants and ran away. I don’t care what you or Dad says. I made the right decision and you know it!” Wilbur snapped, raising his voice way louder than he intended to. Tommy flinched back, feeling the underlying desperation in his brother's voice.

“Fine, Wilbur you were right, is that what you wanted?”

“No Tommy, I want you to stop pushing me away. You know I care for you, right?” He wanted to drop the arrows, walk over to Tommy and stop their petty arguing. They never really fought much except for mumbled curse words and maybe some kicking under the dinner table. This would be the only exception.

“Yeah that’s why you keep shooting your arrows at me,” he laughed humorlessly, fixing a tuft of hair that kept falling in his eye.

“Well you threw your sword first so I call it fair,” Wilbur laughed, mirroring his. The boys were back to glaring at each other, on their opposite beds. Wilbur, reaching for another arrow laying on his bed. Tommy, tightening his grip on his sword. Wilbur held his bow steady, taking aim on his brother and Tommy did the same to prepare to throw his sword.

“I won’t miss, Tommy.”

“Neither will I, Wilbur.” 

They let go of their weapons at the same time and glass shattered on Tommy’s side of the room. The sound wasn’t as loud as they thought, but it was enough. They expected their parents in 5 minutes which meant that Tommy would have to hurry.

“You lucky fucking bastard how’d you manage to throw your sword like a spear?” Wilbur grumbled, getting off Tommy’s bed to move to his own

“I told you bitch, I don’t miss,” Tommy laughed tugging on his coat, making sure his sword was strapped securely to his side. “Plus I have friends outside waiting for me. It would be rude to be late.”

“What are you on about Tommy?” Wilbur sighed, watching Tommy prepare to jump.

“You don’t think they’re real, but Wilbur you’re about to meet my two best friends in the whole world,” he smiled, jumping out of the window, the rest of the stained glass falling with him.

“Tommy wait–” Wilbur's heart jumped through his chest, he ran to the window, searching the ground for his brother when a small hint of green caught his eye.

“Hey Wilbur, meet my friends Tubbo and Ranboo!” Tommy waved at his brother from a tall tree. A tree that wasn’t there a moment ago. Wilbur rubbed his eyes and looked back at Tommy being carefully taken down by a shrinking tree and when it disappeared two boys popped up from under it looking up towards it.

“You’re Tommy’s brother I presume?” The shorter of the 3 asked. Very slowly Wilbur nodded his head as the other one helped Tommy from the ground and dusted himself off.

“I feel very bad for you then, have a flower!” The tall one yelled and a small dandelion appeared in his hand. Wilbur looked at the flower with wonder, examining if it was real or not before his eyes fell back to his brother.

“That’s a weed Ranboo!”

“Well it’s a very pretty weed if I do say so myself and I do,” he chuckled as the other two scoffed.

“Wha-”

“See you later, Wilbur. Tell Mom and Dad I’ll be back for dinner,” Tommy shouted as he started to walk away with his friends.

“But Tommy how–”

“Don’t think about it too much, it might just hurt your head,” the boy (Ranboo?) said and Tommy nodded, waving off to his brother one more time before he and his friends disappeared. 

“I never thought he would be the shocked type,” Tubbo hummed as they marched through the forest. He walked backwards claiming he knew the forest like the back of his hand. Ranboo and Tommy disagreed but wouldn’t say anything to the boy.

“If we’re being honest I’m quite shocked as well that tree was not very soft Ranboo. I think I bruised my ass a bit,” he groaned, rubbing his butt.

“You said for us to catch you, you didn’t specify how.”

“Yeah, because I thought it would imply carefulness.”

“I don’t think so. Anyway, what are we doing today? Rock skipping, flower picking, bird watching–”

“Oh bird watching sounds nice,” Tubbo said, turning around to skip by Ranboo’s side.

“Well I was thinking of something a bit more exciting,” Tommy said with a smile growing on his face. His friends looked at him nervously, not liking the look in his eyes. 

“Rabbit racing?” Tubbo asked slowly.

“A little bit bigger,” he gestured with his hands.

“Horse racing?” Ranboo asked next.

“It-It could involve horses. I was thinking about something along the lines of monster hunting?”

“Like ugly animal bingo?”

“No, I mean like actual monsters. Technoblade tells me stories of all types of beasts!”

“Those are just stories Tommy–”

“Oh but that’s what you think Big man, but they exist.”

“Well I don’t want to try. Monsters sound scary,” Tubbo said hesitantly.

“Only boys are scared of monsters and we’re not boys. We’re men!” Tommy cheered.

“We are very much boys, Tommy. Very skinny and small boys, Tommy. Do you see me and Tubbo? We collect berries in the forest and don’t eat meat-”

“You’re missing out.”

“Not the point; we are weak compared to you. If you ever saw us  fighting it would be like two leaves trying to hold on to a branch in the wind,” Ranboo points out, not exaggerating the point of their weakness.

“Two very small leaves,” Tubbo adds, humming.

“Fine, I knew it was going to come to this anyway. Tubbo, Ranboo I have to tell you guys something that might make you change your minds,” he whispers.

“What?”

“Well, I’ve been noticing a couple of changes with my body lately and-”

“Ew Tommy we don’t need to hear about your puberty!”

“Wha- ew no- fuck no Tubbo it’s nothing like that, just look,” he says, taking a step back from them for space. The two looked at him confusedly as he closed his eyes and raised his hand. He swiped at the air holding his hand in a fist, but was surprised to see nothing happened. Tommy let out a nervous chuckle as he opened his eyes and checked his hand again.

“Um, Tommy, what was supposed to happen?” Tubbo asked, slowly.

“Look you’ll see, I did it in front of Wilbur before and I thought I just imagined it but wait,” he said excitedly, holding his hand out. He put all of his focus in his hand, slightly grunting a bit as he stared expently at the empty palm. So he put more force, his fingers started to shake and sweat dripped from his brow.

“Maybe Tommy-”

“Would you shut up and look?” Tommy snapped at Ranboo and focused just on his hands instead of the looks from his friends. He knew it would work if he just had some focus-

“Ha! Here I did it!” He cheered, tossing the knife in his hands, to one of his unexpecting friends.

“A knife?”

“Yeah! When I’m with Wilbur I can usually just pull it out of the air but this is cool as well,” he nodded, picking up the dropped knife.

“It’s a knife.”

“Yeah, it’s like the magic shit you do with the flowers.”

“Yeah, kinda but then again it’s also not,” Ranboo said, eyeing the knife.

“It’s still cool though,” Tubbo shrugged, walking up to Tommy to examine the weapon. “But you do know what we isn’t magic it’s-”

“It doesn’t matter what the fuck it is. It’s cool and it kinda makes me like you guys,” Tommy smiled. Ranboo and Tubbo gave him a look; something he didn’t understand but didn’t want to anyway. It is was what it is and it would be fine. “So monster hunting anyone?”

“Hell yeah boss man, count me in!” Tubbo said, marching ahead with Tommy close on his heels.

“I-I still don’t think that’s a good idea. Monster hunting also implies catching and killing something. Me and Tubbo have never killed a thing in our life.”

“Neither have I, unless you count the flowers Tubbo gives me-”

“Hey!”

“It’s not on purpose, but still I think it’ll be fun. We don’t have to catch anything, it'll be like bird watching but with a beast,” he shrugs as he starts to walk off the path Tubbo was leading them on.

“T-Tommy you’re not following the path!”

“Yeah well beasts don't stick to paths,” Tommy yelled behind him.

“But the forest is dangerous,” Tubbo said painking, running in with him with Ranboo scurrying off behind him.

“How dangerous could it be? You guys live here,” he laughed, pulling out his sword from his side.

“Yeah but we’re different.”

“Apparently so am I, what’s the worst thing that can happen?” Tommy asked, charging fearlessly ahead of his worried friends with a smile on his face.

It’d been four hours since he’d seen his friends, dirt making a permanent mark on his body and blood running down his face. He had no idea how things got so wrong. There was a creature in the forest, he hadn’t seen it but he felt it. The feeling brought a pit to his stomach and fear was all that filled it.

“Don’t stress about it boss man. We know this forest like the back of our hands.”

“Yeah there’s hardly any dangerous animals out here unless you count a bird every now and then.”

Then they laughed it off and Tommy did the same. If they thought he was imagining things then he probably was. It was just forest, a lot of  trees and some bugs. Tommy knew this but then the feeling kept coming back. Suddenly becoming too real, the things following him, creatures crawling on his back and that’s when he remembers things falling apart.

Tubbo disappeared first. It was silent when he did, that they didn’t notice it until 5 minutes later. When he thinks about it, it makes him laugh in some kind of sick way. Ranboo was right.

“Y’know Tubbo I’ve never heard you be so quiet before-”

“Aw fuck man my nose! Why’d you stop walkin’?”

“Tommy? Tommy, move. Tommy run!”

He was so confused until he heard the growl and the stench of death filled his nose. Fear was a powerful emotion, nailing him to the ground and Ranboo... fucking Ranboo the one without any self preservation skills pushes him out the way. Of what? Tommy still didn’t know. He still half-expected Ranboo to be there running behind him but the boy was gone with a scream that rang in his ears.

Tommy could do nothing to stop it. How could he have done anything? You can’t fight a beast that you can’t see, what would he swing at?

He fell into a ditch somewhere when he was running. His ankle throbbed arguing against any further movement so he made no move to address it, fearing it was sprained or worse. He knew he had to move, he couldn’t just stand there or he’d be next. So he felt around blindly, his leg dragging around behind him as he searched for a wall. His adrenaline would be the death of him.

He stopped running minutes ago after the fall but his silence along with the sound of his ragged panting uneased him. He was starting to feel the creepiness of the beast clawing its way back to him and for once he wished he listened to his friends, because what did he know about the forest? There was a noise to the left of him and he felt himself clench his sword. His useless, useless sword. What good was all that training if he couldn’t even use it? Two weak swings of his sword wasn’t enough for that thing and he knew it.

The closer Tommy felt the creature get the more he heard his breathing speed up.

“S-stop it! Don’t come any closer!” He warned, gripping his sword. The voices were coming back laughing, chanting what he already knew.

‘Technoblade’s prized student was cowering from a challenge?’  

He was scared. The stupid voice wouldn’t know anything about manly fear because it was a voice and not a man. An annoying voice that picked the worst times to show up  and give him a headache. He’d hate to admit it but the voice was right he couldn’t die here. He still had to prove to his dad that he was strong, that he could be brave like Wilbur and strong like Technoblade.

“Ah fine,” he whined, using the back of his hand to wipe the snot off his face before he pushed himself up on his feet. His foot buzzed sending shock waves through his body, it was clear that it was more than a simple twist.

 It was probably broken which is way worse than what he thought before of the injury but he took a step and ignored the pain that dizzied him. He’d been stabbed before, an accident of course but it still hurt and way more than this. So he stubbornly took another step as the feeling and sound of dragging grew closer to him.

Tommy took a breath in lifting sword towards first position and waited until he could at least see something to hit and run. He smelt the creature before he saw it. It had a putrid odor that marinated in the air and a glint of metal, other than his own caught his eyes. As the beast dragged himself from the shadows he knew he was severely overmatched. The monster had one eye and clumps of gunk or slime rolled off his body.

“Aw fuck you man, you stink! Club man, where the hell are my friends!” He demanded trying to hold in the fear in his voice. The beast laughed, shaking the earth above and below them, more dirt fell on his head and he resisted the urge to dust the dirt out of his hair.

“High of you to think they are still alive.”

“They’d better be or I’ll-”

“You’ll what? Me and my iron club-”

“Fuck you and your club! I want my friends back you bitch,” Tommy snarled.

“You’ll see them again, in the afterlife,” the beast roared before he lunged at Tommy and he stood there frozen at the thought that his friends could be dead because of him.

‘Failure.’ ‘Failure.’ ‘Failure.’ ‘Failure.’

“Fuckin’ hell,” Tommy clutched the side of his head barely moving out of way from the attack.

“Know the name of the one you had the honor to be killed by: Periphetes !” The name stuck a cord with Tommy and while he should be terrified of all this (trust him he is) something about it felt right. It was so right but wrong. It was wrong because something was missing and if he wasn’t fighting for his life at the moment it would’ve made him panic even more.

“Well then fuck you Periphetes, like I’d die to you and your bitchy bat,” Tommy growled, hoping his words weren’t slurring as much as he though they were.

“It’s not a bat, it’s a club made of the purest iron,” Periphetes roared, taking another swing at Tommy but missing him completely as he fell to the floor. The beast stumbled back with the force of the swing, giving Tommy the space he needed to get up and try to form some kind of plan. 

“That’s not an iron club,” Tommy panted, smirking. 

This time Periphetes didn’t give him the luxury of an answer, grunted and threw the metal club towards Tommy. His body moved faster than his mind thought he could, he fell to the ground again and rolled over as the club fell meters next to him. The ground shook once more and the sounds of rock and gravel came dangerously to his ear.

“See that?” Tommy gasped for air, pointing to the discarded club. “It didn’t clang, iron makes a sound when it falls, whoever made it for you tricked you. It’s wood wrapped in brass, it’s not an iron club,” he repeats, shifting off his broken foot. Every movement jolted something in his brain to run or cry but he couldn’t move and he never cried without Wilbur. So he would just have to wait until he had the opportunity to do both.

“Tricked me? Impossible!” The monster roared running to the club to examine but Tommy cleared his throat stopping him.

“It’s true, I should know my sword is purely of iron,” he leaned his back against the wall and lifted the sword, dropping it against the rock wall. Surely enough the sword clanged against the wall and he prayed that the beast wouldn’t see through his silly child’s trick.

“I’d get my money back if I were-”

“Give me your sword,” the monster demanded.

“Hell no, what the fuck! My tutor gave this to me and he’d have my ass if I lost this shit,” he said as the beast turned to face him. The anger on his features was clear and maybe Tommy finally realized the danger he was in when he felt the adrenaline start to trickle off and the only thing he would be left with is this sword.

“I will slay you then and the man that tricked me!”

“I don’t think so,” he whispered as the beast charged for his sword. Tommy picked up the sword and threw it across the ditch, like he did back home before scrambling behind it. The club beast crashed into the narrow wall with a roar causing the earth to rumble and more rocks from the earth above to fall.

“S-stop fucking doing that! The ground above us will-” his words were cut off by the beast charging again. He went to reach for his sword but he only grasped dirt in his nail. His throat hitched as he continued to grab at air and dirt, something sinking deeply within him. He wasn’t even sure if it could be called fear anymore; he just wanted to live.

Blindly, he reached hoping that he’d find his sword, only for his knuckles to brush up against the iron club. Tommy moved without realizing it, he grabbed the club and flung it towards the beast using all the strength he had left. It was unnatural and in the condition he was in he knew he shouldn’t have been able to do it. But this too felt right, so he didn’t question it.

With a sickening crunch the iron club cracked its skull and purple blood sprayed into the air covering Tommy in its fall. The beast came tumbling after it, rumbling the ground where he stood.

Tommy let out a bit of a sigh and a sob. He shuffled backwards into the closest wall and pressed his head to the cool rock to calm the ache. The blood from the creature followed soaking into the dirt and into his clothes. His eyes grew heavy and he wanted nothing else to do but to close his eyes and sleep but he knew Technoblade wouldn’t advise it.

“Sleep is your enemy when you’ve injured your head.”  

He remembered the man telling him this once when he fell from a tree. Technoblade’s voice was warm, embracing him in the cold ditch. He wishes it was real.

“Fuck you. I-I’m tired Techno let me sleep.”

Still a stubborn boy, he vaguely sees himself closing his eyes in defiance and hearing Techno snort at his attempt of disobedience. He knows he didn’t wake up until two days later, Wilbur was crouched down beside his bed snoring softly and his dad had looked at him as if his waking took the burden of 100 years off his shoulders. Techno looked at him, face unreadable as always before he huffed and a smile graced his face while he ruffled his hair.

“I told you runt.”

Tommy laughed horsley at the memory as his weak arms pushed him up the wall nearly knocking his head on the hilt of his sword. There it was lodged in the rock wall, so without thinking he pulled the sword out and hatched it to his side. That’s when the sudden thudding of rocks echoed in his ears.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath. He was so fucking stupid; he didn’t need the voices to the him that. The falling sounded distant, but he could tell it was rapidly approaching. Tommy turned on his foot to run but fell from the pain from his ankle shot down face first in the dirt. He whimpered and tried to drag himself in the blood and dirt but the adrenaline finally freed itself from his body and he was deathly aware of how much pain he was in and how much closing his eyes looked more and more promising. 

He was scared. He was scared because he wanted to go home and sit on Wilbur’s bed listening to him play music again. He was scared because he didn’t know where his friends were, if they were actually dead and it was all his fault for getting them stuck here in the first place. He was scared because the falling rocks were getting closer and he could feel the ground falling near him and all he wanted was for his dad to save him.

“Dad!” The echo of the yell dropped a couple of pebbles on his head but he couldn’t care. He was a boy, not a man and he wanted his dad to save him from his mistakes. The voices teased him, their sickening laughs made the pit in his stomach sink deeper. He clutched the side of his head whimpering, he wanted his dad to save him from this too. He wanted him to make the voices go away.

“Dad, please!” He sobbed, even if it wasn’t possible he wanted to feel like his dad would save him like always. With tears running down his face he dragged himself a bit further past the dead beast on the floor in a desperate attempt to try to get up but he fell again harder this time knocking the air out his lungs.

“Dad, I’m scared! Please,” he recoiled as the pain continued to drag him further into his own hell. The tears burned his eyes running down his face and for once there was no one to wipe them away.

“Help me,” he cried in a last try for help that would never come. The sounds of ground falling beneath the beast’s body came quickly. He let out a scream as the earth near him fell slowly as if teasing him then just a sudden jolt pulled him from the surface. Dirt and rocks hit Tommy’s face as his hands flailed in the air trying to stop himself from the inevitable fall. 

It was suffocating, he couldn't breath and the world was dark around him. He tried to call for help but he was already screaming and his body didn’t seem ready to stop yet. Gravel filled his lungs and each small hit from a pebble seemed to make him fall faster into the seemingly never-ending chasm. 

Then he saw it, the last slit of sunlight he thought he imagined in the mania of  his mind covered by a figure from afar. After spotting the shadow he felt his shirt yanked forward against the dirt. He was almost tempted to push it away, but the grip got tighter and the faint touch of calloused hands brushed against his chest.

He looked up confusedly from his tears and panicked as he continued to be lifted against the pull of gravity. Something soft touched face and he reached for it feeling it bunch in his hand and he pulled back confused.

“Wha-”

“Hush Tommy, you’ll get dirt in your mouth,” the familiar voice told him. The last part of his sensible brain supplied it was Technoblade and he let out another rack of sobs, desperately hugging the arms that held him as they got to the surface. The cool night air forced its way into his lungs, making his choke against it as small bits of dirt and dust came out of his mouth. He looked around as the trees passed him by and he gradually got higher until he floated above them all.

“Are you alright Tommy?” He heard his dad’s voice but couldn’t find it. He wanted to reach out and hug him but was too scared that this was only a trick of his mind.

“D-Dad?” His voice was broken and sore but he couldn’t help but let out another sob, “I’m- where?”

“Look up Tommy,” Technoblade instructed and when his eyes followed above them. His dad flew with midnight black wings blending into the sky. Phil looked at him with unshed tears and waved at his son.

“How is that…” his mouth tried to finish the sentence but he was starting to feel overwhelmed. His breath was picking up but no air was entering his lungs. It didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand. 

Technoblade looked down at him, realized this and smiled at him, his rare one, reserved for only after a hard training session. “Breath Tommy, it’s okay.”

“But I- Dad.. Techno I-” he whimpered as his lack of words grew frustrating and his breath wouldn’t settle.

“It’s okay Tommy, we’ve got you now,” Phil reassured him as Technoblade hummed, shifting Tommy in the air until the boy was pressed against his chest. Tommy took the offer and curled into the broad chest, pressing his ear against his Techno’s chest, taking comfort in his heartbeat.

“You can rest Tommy.”

“Can’t... head… hit,” he found himself mumbling, the rhythm of Technoblade drawing him to sleep. It was tempting but he wouldn’t do it, not yet.

“I know, you’ve done well, go to sleep,” Technoblade said, humming as they flew farther into darkness.

“Wait… Ranboo… Tubbo?”

“They’re fine, you can rest now bud,” Phil promised and there was one thing that Tommy knew it was that his father kept his promises.

“Thank you,” Tommy mumbled, letting his sleepiness take over.

“Don’t worry Theseus, you’ve done well.”

Chapter Text

 Philza stood there, watching the slow rise of his son’s chest as he slept. He hated that the image was familiar to him, so many years ago were the only way you could tell he was alive was by feeling for his soft breath on his finger. His youngest son; it had been 12 days now and he missed the shine of his bright blue eyes, eyes brighter than anyone else in the family.

Then Philza drifted to his oldest. Another image too familiar to his heart; the teen slept on his knees leaning over the bed, his glasses neatly folded next to them. He couldn’t stop himself from seeing the tiny four year old sleeping on the floor from his brother’s crib hoping that they’d wake up together. 

Unlike those times he could have done something. He could have flown faster, he knows he could. So why didn’t he make it on time?

“Tommy I-”

“Dad?” Wilbur groaned, wiping the crust from his eye.

“Oh Wilbur you’re awake, did you rest well?”

“Fine. Did Tommy wake while I was asleep?”

“No, no he didn’t. Wilbur I-”

“You said you’d get there on time, before it got to this,” his voice filled with bottled anger. 

“I tried Wilbur,” he stressed. They’ve had this conversation before but it only leads to a vicious cycle of guilt and blame.

“You didn’t try hard enough. You said he'd be fine,” Wilbur said coldly, not taking his eyes off his brother.

“Wilbur-”

“You were supposed to save him before he got this bad. That is what his fate is!” He was tired. It wasn’t fair and he was tired . It was all the same excuses and Tommy always ended up in the same damn bed and all his dad could say is sorry.

“You changed his fate the moment you pulled him out of that room. Fates and chains don’t pull taunt after something hits it they keep moving and pulling Wilbur-”

“He wasn’t ready!” Wilbur could already feel himself growing angry from this conversation. They’ve had it too many times to count. “He’s still not ready, this is proof, he’s told me himself. You told me to believe but that was fucking stupid because look what happened! Can’t you change any of this?”

“We’ve had this conversation before. It doesn't work like that-”

“Then tell me what I don’t understand because I know you’re not supposed to be here running among a town full of descendants of the people you’ve killed. Yet here you are, yet Tommy has to suffer and I have to sit back and watch!” Wilbur got up from his spot by the bed, his nerves making it impossible to stay still.

“You have no right to bring that up Wil,” his voice was near dangerous. Too much knowledge without experience leads to this. Sometimes Wilbur was too wise for his own good.

“I have every right to bring this up. If you can stay here and lounge a-fucking-round, with the children of the people you’ve slaughtered than you can save Tommy, can’t you?” Wilbur asked accusingly. They argued in whispers, neither of them willing to shock Tommy from his sleep. But slowly Wilbur seemed to be forgetting this, his emotions starting to get the best of him.

“That’s different, you can’t bring my past and not know the reasons behind it. I’ve worked to stand here and I’m trying to do the same for the both of you.”

Wilbur glared at his father taking careful steps towards him, making sure his father could see the venom he was harboring.  “You’re doing a bang up job of it, Phil . You don’t need to worry about me, help Tommy. Do something, change his fate like you did yours.”

“I can’t!” Philza said exasperated. “Don’t you think I've tried Wilbur? The only escape from his fate is death and he can’t die! He’s special and he has a gift, but that comes with a taxing price he has to pay,” Phil explains and looks at Wilbur. When Wilbur looks back he’s pained, a confession on the tip of his tongue.

“He already has his gift,” Wilbur whispers slowly, like the news would break their world as they know it. In some ways he was right.

“What?”

“His gift. He has it, we were sitting in the backyard hanging out and he pulled an arrow out the air while trying to catch a bug.”

“You were shooting arrows and he caught one?” Phil asked knowing well his son didn't mean it the way he questioned.

“No, Dad, he reached into the air trying to grab the bug and an arrow appeared in his hand,” he explained.

“Out of nowhere?”

“Completely made out of thin air. When he showed me I didn’t know what to do, I thought it was a prank but he kept doing it. He made knives and arrows last time I checked.”

“Why would you just tell me this?” Philza said keeping at bay the anger and sadness he felt, walking to the covered window of their room, pulling the curtain back. Wilbur looked nervously at Tommy then back at his father.

“I-I don’t know, I just expected it to happen so nothing told me to tell you. Why?”

“Because you need to go and pack his things, he’ll be waking up shortly,” Philza says, taking a small black crow from under his hat and setting it free outside.

“Why do I need to pack his things? Are we leaving?”

“It’s just Tommy leaving, I’ve put plans in place for him, he’ll be fine.”

“D-Dad, you’re not making sense-”

“Wilbur you are a smart boy and one day you’ll be smarter than me, with every lesson you learn you’ll see that. So make sure you take this lesson to heart, trying to make sense of a life like ours is a fool's game. We live off books already written and when our story ends someone writes another. To make our own, we suffer many things so we can rip our page and start off anew, but it doesn’t make sense. It never will and for a boy of logic it’ll confuse you for a while but you’ll get it,” he said, holding Wilbur’s face in his hands. He looked at him with great love and saw his younger self in his eyes. A better younger self. 

He did fail Tommy, in more ways than he can count but he wouldn’t let this fail. Maybe this was his author’s way of trying to get him back in the book he was made for. Philza didn’t know, but what he did know is that he still had pages left of his own book and he wasn’t done writing.

“Wilbur listen to me and this is very important, whatever happens you make sure to follow everything I say. Don’t stray from a bit of it, you promise?”

“I do.”

“Good. Now pack all of your brother’s training clothes and clear the house, leave the bag at the kitchen back door then leave the house yourself and don’t come back until midnight.”

“I suppose you can’t tell me what’s happening can you?”

“No, Wilbur I can’t. I just need you to trust me. Now do what I asked,” he said as his hands slowly fell from his son’s face. Wilbur looked at him determinedly, ran to the other side of the room and started packing.

“Okay Tommy, it’s time for you to wake up,” Phil whispered, picking Tommy in his arms and carrying him out his room. He jogged quickly with the unconscious boy into one of the empty guest rooms locking the door behind him. He gently laid Tommy in the center of the bed and pulled a knife from his thigh, he cut down the middle of his shirt tossing the knife across the bed.

“Tommy, my boy I’m sorry I didn’t make it on time. Next time I’ll be there when you call, because I heard you call for me Tommy but I was too late. I won’t be late again,” he promised, nipping the tip of thumb before placing it on his lips. Then he dripped the blood of his thumb from his lips down to his chest, before placing his clean hand on top of the trail.

“From voice to heart I break this bond, let it set on a new dawn. Till pages are filled with dried ink and wine, let it be a barrier for his time and mine!”

Philza pushed the clean hand into Tommy’s chest until he felt a warmness in his fingertips, signaling that the bond was broken. He removed his hand with a shuttered sigh, folding back tears. He wasn’t losing his son, he was making sure that he never lost him again.

“Come on Tommy, it’s time for you to wake up now,” he whispered into the air around him and Tommy jumped as if hearing his name be called. He panicked grasping at his chest, but his father was quick to hold him in his arms.

“D-Dad! I was dying- there was this beast and I-I think I killed it. I don’t know but it stopped moving and then I-I fell. I was falling but then you came… you and Technoblade you were flying? H-how’d you guys do that?” His voice was as horse as ever but he let him ramble until he was done holding him close to his heart.

“I know you have a lot of questions Tommy, but if I answered you’d just forget,” he said as tears rolled down his face. Tommy looked up at him, crystalized blue eyes burning his, questioning him for his decisions but he knew that there would be nothing he could come up with that would satisfy his pain.

“I-”

“I know you wouldn’t on purpose but just wait- wait one moment while we still have time,” he wished more for himself then to Tommy. He didn’t want to forget the shape of his boy in his arms. As a father he couldn’t but his arms could one day forget the shape of his son in his arms and he didn’t want to take that chance.

“What do you mean?”

“I love you Tommy. I love you so much Tommy, so does Wilbur and your mother. We love you,” he says looking into Tommy’s eyes, the bright blue eyes that lit up their entire house. 

“I-I know Dad I love you all too,” he said confusedly.

“I know you do Tommy, I know,” he says, pressing a kiss into Tommy’s temple. 

“Dad, what the hell’s going on you’re scaring me,” Tommy asked as Phil continued to hug him as if it was the last time. “What’s going on and what happened to my shirt?”

“I know, I don't mean to scare you. I just have a lot on my mind and I’ll get you another shirt when we get downstairs,” he says, lifting Tommy off the bed, refusing to let him go.

“I can walk Dad,” Tommy chuckled.

“What about your foot? Didn’t you injure it?”

“I did but I don’t feel any pain now. I could have sworn before that I broke it, but it’s just gone now,” he shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yep!” 

“Well then let me carry you, for old times sake?”

“Fine Dad,” he sighed and smiled when his dad did. It was stretched thin and small, but he knew his father meant it. Phil carried Tommy downstairs, and as the realization that this was actually happening he couldn’t stop tears from falling into his son’s golden nest of hair. He opened the kitchen door and by the exit was a perfectly stuffed bag leaned up against the door.

“Okay now Tommy-”

“I thought I was getting a new shirt,” he said, looking around. Phil put him down near the bag and opened it searching for the shirt he knew Wilbur would pack.

“Yeah, you are,” he confirmed, trying not to pay attention to the drumming in his ears.

“So why are you searching a bag in the kitchen?”

“Because that’s where the shirt is,” he sighed, pulling out the boy’s favorite shirt. The same red and white shirt he got for his birthday filled with mud stains that refused to come out and holes Tommy refused to have fixed. He helped Tommy take the ripped shirt and slowly slipped it on. Phil crouched there fixing the shirt on his son even as he knew that he was only stalling at this point.

“Dad?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“You’re scaring me again,” he admitted, chuckling at dad.

“Oh Tommy, you know I don’t mean to but if it’ll make you feel any better I have something to give you,” he offered.

“Really? Is it a snack, you know I love when you cook,” Tommy said nervously.

“No Tommy it’s not my cooking,” Phil laughed for the last time he would in a while. “It’s something important,” he said, reaching around his neck, lifting the emerald necklace from around his neck.

“Dad, what are you doing with that? Isn’t that your super important Technoblade thing that you never take off?”

“There’s a first time for everything Tommy. I want you to hold on to it for me,” Philza said gently, putting the necklace on Tommy and tucking it in his shirt.

“I can’t hold this Dad, I might break it.”

“I… I doubt it, Tommy. I want you to keep this for me and when you see me again you’ll just hand it over and all will be right again.”

“Well what’s wrong now?”

“Tommy I can’t-”

There was a knock on the door and Philza looked at it dreadfully.

“W-Who’s at the door?”

“It’s Technoblade, now Tommy put this on your back, it's light,” he said, slipping the bag on his arms.

“Are we going somewhere?”

“Not ‘we’ Tommy, just you. You’re going with Technoblade,” he explained, opening the door.

“I’m doing what? Why aren't you coming with me?”

“Is he ready?” Technoblade asked, ignoring Tommy.

“He is,” Philza said, glancing back at Tommy.

“Dad! Wait, what’s going on? I just woke up and I’m leaving?”

“Tommy, I love you,” Philza said instead.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I love you Tommy, but you have to go now,” he says, pressing a kiss into his forehead.

“I’m not understanding.”

“You won’t not for a long time, but until then stay my little warrior for me okay?”

“O-okay. I don’t know what’s going on but you’re promising me I’ll be alright and you always keep your promises so okay. I’ll see you whenever,” Tommy decides to say, turning the door. He heard his dad let out a sigh of relief, so he smiled and walked over to Technoblade but was stopped at the door.

“Say it back,” Technoblade instructed, stopping him before he passed the door frame.

“Huh?”

“Your father said something to you, say it back,” Technoblade repeated. Tommy froze for a moment, before a little light bulb lit.

“I love you too, Dad,” he said, waving at him with a bright smile. Phil tried to memorize every part of it, it had to last until he came back to them.

“I know, Tommy,” Phil smiled back and Technoblade removed his hand letting Tommy pass.

“Tommy, when you leave this step, keep walking and don’t turn back,” Technoblade said sternly.

“What about you?”

“I’ll find you, now head off,” he told Tommy and watched as the boy ran off into the forest without another word. Then, when it was just the two of them he heard Philza let out a sob. He leaned over the kitchen island sobed into the silence that was shared between them.

“I-I thought I’d have more time with him.” They all did if he was being honest.

“I know.”

“Please Technoblade, that’s my son. Take care of him for me?”

“Of course. I’ll keep him in one piece, you know how Tommy is,” he joked, trying to put a smile on his friend's face. Recognizing the attempt he took a shuddering breath and nodded. 

“Until we meet again?”

“Until we meet again,” he confirmed and took off into the night searching for Tommy. Phil slowly walked over to the open door and closed it, locking it behind him. He took a breath and wiped his eyes. It was not his time to mourn yet.

A boy sat in a window counting stars as someone read to him. He didn’t bother to listen to the words, he just knew it was a familiar voice so his mind found comfort in it. Even the crackling pops of the fire seemed to lure him into peace.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Were you listening?”

“No, not really Technoblade,” he sighed, not taking his eyes off the sky. When he looked at the man he gave a shallow smile, like he knew something was missing.

“Is there a reason? This is your favorite book.”

“Yeah I know I’m just not feeling up to it right now,” Tommy slid off the ledge of the window and walked over to his bed, sitting on top of the covers.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Sure I guess; I feel different. I can't remember much, y’know after I got sick and everything so I guess I feel lost,” he concluded, turning to look at Technoblade. The man himself was never easy to read, he always looked like a secret but Tommy has never been one to care about it. Tonight he looked different, stressed even like something heavy was just added to his shoulders and he couldn’t tell what it was.

“A couple of years ago do you remember me telling you the story of Theseus?”

“That I remember, I was sat over there by the fire and you in that old rocking chair and you told me about a beast he slayed to save his village but they all turned on him and were jerks,” at the mention of this he smiled, only a fraction of what it used to be.

“Yeah that, so how would you feel if I told you one of his other stories,” Technoblade offered, waving Tommy over to a spot near the fire.

“There’s more?” Tommy said excitedly.

“It’s one of his earlier stories, commonly known as The Six Labors of Theseus.”

“The Six Labors?”

“Yeah and the very first one is Theseus and Periphetes. Are you interested?”

“You bet I am Technoblade,” Tommy laughed running over to sit by his feet giving him his full attention.

“Okay so fine, our young hero Theseus is on his way to Athens and Periphetes son of Anticlea and Hephaestus-”

“How do you say those names so easily?”

“I could tell you but you wouldn’t get it. It’s an adult thing,” he teased, making the child giggle.

“But I’m not a child, you can tell me,” he insisted, looking at Technoblade pleadingly.

“I am impervious to your puppy eyes so you can stop now.”

“Please Techno-”

“No, now back to Theseus and Periphetes. Periphetes is known to be a club-bearer, he had one eye-”

“One eye?”

“Yes, one eye.”

“Oh that’s gross. What happened to his other one, did it just fall out or somethin’?”

“Close enough, his eye was lame so he took it out.” Tommy cringed at the detail shrinking back slightly.

“I know, but that wasn’t the only thing wrong with him; he also had a lame leg and he may or may not have killed his father. I’m not sure really, but back to the story Theseus was on his way to Athens and heard rumors of a beast in the hills that robbed and killed people with an iron club. He was warned by the people of his village not to go that route and to find a safer road.”

“He didn’t take the boring way did he? Theseus doesn’t seem like a pussy,” Tommy concluded, forcing a surprised laugh from Technoblade’s chest.

“No he did not, if he did then we wouldn’t have this story would we?”

“No, I guess not,” Tommy hummed.

“Exactly, our hero Theseus listened to their warnings but still decided to take the road. While traveling on this road he recognized Periphetes right away. Periphetes gave Theseus not much time to react and immediately they started fighting. Theseus brought out his trusty sword and defended.”

“Theseus had a sword too?”

“How would he have the head of the Minotaur then?”

“Well that was when he was older I didn’t know he’d have one now.”

“Well he does, now stop interrupting. Theseus noticed something about Periphetes’ club and mentioned it-”

“In the middle of them fighting?”

“Yes Tommy, stop interrupting. He noticed there was something off with the club and smugly mentioned it to him. Apparently the club was wooden wrapped in brass and when Periphetes noticed this he roared in outrage angrily accusing Theseus of lying and Theseus was given the chance to prove himself right he took the club and bashed Periphetes head in. Paying him back for the people he’s robbed and killed. Keeping the club as a trophy and continuing his way to Athens.”

“Really, that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean ‘yeah,’ there has to be more than that, how could that be it?”

“Well there isn’t anymore, not yet that is,” Technoblade chuckled at the horror on Tommy’s face.

“You can’t say this type of stuff and expect me not to upset Techno, I want more. You say there’s 6 Labors, you only told me one. Tell me the others,” Tommy begs.

“I can't, it's not time yet, and you need to get to bed. Just because you’re up late doesn’t mean that I don’t expect you to wake on time for training,” Technoblade says, picking Tommy up from under his arms and carrying him over to his bed.

“I can walk Technoblade,” Tommy grumbled as he was dropped into his pillows.

“Of course, but my way is better,” Technoblade smirked, preparing to walk away to go to his own bed.

“Hey, Technoblade?”

“Yeah Tommy?”

“Something about that story felt familiar,” he sighed. That old feeling from earlier started to return a nagging feeling of losing something that he doesn’t know about.

“I know Tommy, get some rest now.”

The sun rose over a small city in Athens with the horrified scream of a mother. Flocks of birds, crows and others flew scattering away from the household of distraught and pain. Screams echoed in the town and people gathered in groups, feared chatter laced in each one.

There in the center of it all is a father who has run out of tears to cry, signing away his name to a nearly finished book. A woman walks in his office with a boy in her hands and tears running down her face. They have a silent conversation and the woman turns to leave and the boy sits on the floor and watches the ending to a story.

Chapter Text

There was a subtle breeze rolling down the hill, dragging the stench of death into his nostrils. The boy didn’t fear it, instead he stood there and welcomed it, as any other child would welcome the smell of cookies. His hands were stained the color of the sky, but he wiped it on his clothes like paint. His hair only up to his chin blew lightly in the wind as he continued to walk through the valley, the echoes of screams and whimpers of last breaths settled nicely in his ears. He didn’t fear this either, it was like a mother’s song lulling her child to sleep and later this noise would help him do the same.

He hiked up to a perch where the picture of war was clearest and he could admire his work before he went to sleep.

In the distance from the sleeping boy was another with small obsidian wings. He floated angelically over the piles of dead bodies, looking at the art work of another. He touched each of them, collecting the last living pieces of them. The boy did this until the late hours of the night. He skipped around harvesting and collecting as any other child would play a childrens game. When he finished his fun, playing in the field the sun already started poking its head over a valley hill. 

So he hiked up to his own little perch near the valley where he could see the work done by him and others and fell to his own rest.

Neither of them recognizing their own little golden string of fate.

For the first time in months he allowed himself to notice the pain he was in. His hands were blistered, burning with sores at this point. He’s never lost a fight, battle or war but this was proving something else. He could hear the cheers from the mountain above watching his desperate fighting. Laughing at his bruteness and will to survive. Waiting for the chance to say he failed, he wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

The pit may have been endless, enemies farther than the eye could see but his sword wouldn’t stop swinging, plunging into anything in sight. 

For once he was tired and wanted rest. The feeling was foregin to him, his younger self would laugh at such a thing. Then continue the ruthless killing to satisfy bloodlust and the haunted conversations in his head. Now he’s older, he knows better. There is no satisfying bloodlust, it only grows and that makes the voices grow louder. He’s chained to this cycle of death and all he wanted was rest.

‘You were made for this,’ his body disagreed. 

As if he needed a reminder he dropped his sword and began to pumble the creatures with his fist. It gave a new high, silencing his doubt and gave him something else to focus on. His body dragged him around the pit, his fist no longer his own. With a sword he stayed grounded, with nothing at all he became the weapon itself. Taking death into his own hands.

He struggled through the lines of reality and death and in some sick way they were a blend, no separation between the two. A sick crunch from one, screams from another. It’s all he heard and before he’d relish in it and find rest. Now it rang in his ears as part of his curse along with the voices cheering for the continuation of his downfall.

Somewhere, far away in the mountains one of them watched. The laughs from their high pedestal echoed in the other’s head, quickly driving the teen insane. He knew this but didn’t voice his concerns. It was something the other could no longer watch, the continuous laughing at each fallen body made him sick. He turned his head in shame but his heart dragged on evoking an emotion he never felt before. 

He wasn’t like them. He couldn’t sit and write the lives of others; saving people's lives while cursing the undeserving. It was sickening and only became worse when he was forced to sit and watch it play out. A feeling raised in him, one not common in his line of life. He wanted to help, to save the cursed one from his mistake, to tear out the pages from his book and let him write his own.

He reached out from the clouds and with a small part of his wings flapping softly he left his high chair. The Others watched him with distaste, a clear outcast but this only proves their point. There’d be punishment for ripping his own pages, he knew there would be but he couldn’t find it in him to care. For once this felt right.

When the Others realized his plan they tried to push him out of the sky, determined to see his death for rejecting his fate and cursed him with a new one. As he acted something new was being written into disappearing pages. He was to die by sword, but his wings proved to be stronger.

Obsidian spread from his back as he tried to fight against the daunting push. For once noticing something, gazing upon the golden string of fate.

“Ares, you have satisfied us,” his voice boomed throughout the blood filled sky, calling upon the deranged warrior to stop. He didn’t. He continued running around the field, striking down the beasts that no longer denied their destiny. Clouds started to roll in, as if they were finally ready to cry their pity for the field of death.

The winged teen tried again. “Ares, stop! You have satisfied us!”

‘Satisfied? There is no satisfaction, only death and war. This voice is lying to you,’ the mind voices chanted. He knew they were right; only death, only war. There is no rest. There is no peace.

“You can stop!”

‘Liar.’

“We are satisfied, you’ve done enough!”

‘Liar.’ “Stop!”

“You’re done!” ‘ Liar. Liar. Liar!’

“I command you to stop. You’ve- You’ve satisfied us!”

“Liar! There is no satisfaction! Only death. Only war.” His voice was not his own, there were too many voices now. He couldn’t tell which one belonged to him. He continued fighting, drawing out another sword. This one didn’t ground him, it empowered him. The attacks were becoming less and less but the craving to plunge his sword wouldn’t leave. The winged teen could only watch. 

He was one of the 12 and all he could do was watch his own curse play out. He didn’t know what he expected to happen, he’d just come down, ask the other to stop and he would? Even though he knew it wouldn’t be that easy, it should have been. So he hovered in the sky, into the deep hours of the night as if he was back on the mountain with the Others laughing from their high pedestals.

It felt like days before the warrior fell. At that moment the winged teen came from the sky and lifted him from the ground. The warrior fought back against him, pulling a knife from nothing and forcing the blade through his skin. He grunted but continued to hold him down.

“I told you to stop hours ago, mate.”

“You don’t control me.”

“Then how are you pinned?”

“I can escape,” he grunted.

“Then do it,” the winged teen challenged. The young warrior made a small effort to move, his hand readjusted its grip on the handle of the knife and dragged it out. Slowly, a small puddle of golden blood pooled in front of him.

“I’m still standing, mate.” The second time he said the nickname it was teasing seeing if the other would take the bait.

“Only because I let you.”

“Then strike me down. A flesh wound like this won’t be enough to hurt me. I honestly thought you could do better than just a small knife,” he laughed. He knew the other was too tired to move let alone engage in another fight, it showed too clearly on his face. So he made the effort to move them away. They weren’t too far off the ground but it was enough to just barely make it over the caging hills of the pit.

“Let me go or I’ll kill you too.”

“I’m sure,” he snickered before clearing his throat. “I’m the only one who can beat you.”

“Lair!” His voice came out distorted as if someone was speaking along with him. The winged teen tried not to let it show it bothered him because just moments before they were voices he was familiar with. Another emotion struck his heart, another one just as foregien as the first. The warrior was falling apart.

“You doubt me? I’m one of the 12.”

“As am I, so your point?”

“You’re tired from fighting in a pit for the last 6 months and I sat and watched. Whether I can beat you or not is out of the question. You're vulnerable at this moment, I suggest you sit down and let me tend to you.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Let me tend to your wounds.”

“That’s pointless, I can heal myself.”

“Well I say sit and let me help,” he threatened.

“I’m not a dog! You can’t order me to sit, while you ‘tend’ to me like someone in need,” he was running out of strength. Help sounded nice, but his pride wouldn’t let him accept such a thing, the voices wouldn’t either. Including not by someone he knows is weaker than him.

“You’ve cleared the pit, why do you continue to fight?”

“You spoke my name that should be clear to you. Why is it you’re business whether I’m healed or not? You’re one of the 12 are you not? We don’t care for one another.” What he said was true. The 12 don’t look out for each other, even if you weren’t in the 12 you don’t help others without a motive. So to be honest he doesn’t know what exactly made him come. Maybe it was the constant tugging he felt in his chest every time he looked at the warrior.

“I fell. They pushed me from the sky, and I was to die by your sword.”

“I can still make that happen,” he snarled.

“If you could, you would have done it by now. Don't stab me again,” he said as if tuting a child. It only made the warrior angrier, clearly wanting to punch the teen but the muscles in his body advised against it.

“Again you command me, you put too much faith in me it's actually pretty dumb.”

“Again you speak so mighty yet you barely were able to pull a knife from my side. I don’t think you are in the position to disagree.” The warrior remained silent until the stranger finally released him, placing him gently on the ground. The moment he got his footing, he sprinted off into a random direction.

“Wha-” The winged teen scoffed as he watched the other disappear into the forest. He didn’t pursue him, the other would let himself be found when he was ready. Besides he was a god, he had other things to do then chase a scared boar.

“I found you.”

“You’re quite persistent for a fallen one.”

“I’m not cursed, you don’t have to call me that,” he hovered a respectful distance away, giving the two of them their space.

“Then tell me, fallen one. You’ve followed me for 200 years, watched me for weeks and finally you’ve come and disturbed my rest in my peaceful tree. So, tell me your name,” he demanded. The warrior lazily opened his eyes peeking over to the field. It’s become a habit of his to fall asleep on high ground, a tree preferably and look at his work from afar.

“You never seem to stop indulging yourself in human wars. I don’t want to be a part of that so I waited. I take it you’re done now with war for now?” The winged teen asked, coming closer; pushing past the line of space he once gave him. He half-expected the warrior to growl at him and make him back up. 

“Yeah and this is my resting time before I go find another. Tell me your name,” he demanded again. For some reason his alarm bell didn’t ring as loud as they did on their first meeting. Everything was surprisingly quiet.

“Call me Philza,” he introduced, holding his hand for the other to shake.

“That’s weird,” he said, eyeing the hand in front him.

“Now tell me yours,” Philza demanded.

“You know mine.”

“I want to know your unofficial name. What do you tell people your name is when you fight for their greed and selfishness?”

“I don’t say anything, they call me by the name of Technoblade. I think it’s stupid, but don’t correct them.”

“You answer to that name?”

“Not willingly.”

“So fine, your unofficial name shall be Technoblade. How do you feel about it?”

“Fallen one, otherwise known as Philza?”

“Yes?”

“Leave me alone, so I can go back to sleep,” his words lacked the bite it usually did, surprising the both of them.

“I’ll never let you out of my sight.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Technoblade said, closing his eyes. Whispers judged him, telling him not to let the stranger follow him but he forced himself to relax. 

“More like a promise.”

“How do you normally do this?”

“Quiet. Keep your hood on and head down.”

“You act as if I’m a child.”

“Well you know nothing of this world. You might as well be,” Technoblade scoffed. The two of them weaved through the stalls and crowds of people. It was another plain city with its own rulers and ancient history. At one point these secrets used to interest Technoblade, playing into the bit of humanity he had left. As he got older he realized that these things were repetitive and foolish. History did nothing but stick to its old repetitive cycle, sooner or later he found himself in one of his own.

“Then teach me something if you know all about this world. Tell me what we’re doing here,” Phil demanded. He’s followed Technoblade in hopes of something new and interesting but quickly that fire has been dimmed. Technoblade only seemed to engage in frivolous things he didn’t care for. Phil wished he could leave but something always brings him back. If he left surely Philza would be welcomed back to the mountain and his seat would be presented back to him.

“I’ve already told you something. Keep quiet, your hood on and your head down,” he shouted slightly. His nerves were shot, the voices were high and bloodlust was creeping into his system.

“Something wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Philza said, dropping the conversation. He tugged the thin fabric hood on his head and followed Technoblade to the center of the city. In the city center stood a clean and paved road different from the dirt clearing they once walked on. The paved cobblestone led to gold plated gates as far as the eye could see. A single solid gold gate and everyone in town seemed to avoid it like the plague.

When Philza noticed this he turned to Technoblade in anger. “This is the place you take me to? A building that’s been cursed by another are you-”

“Either wait here or I can strike you down and be done with you. The choice is yours,” Technoblade growled. Philza looked at Technoblade, noticing the growing redness to the color of his eye, so he stepped back. Not in fear but in interest in Technoblades new behavior. Technoblade pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and slipped it on his hands. He reached for the gate and snuck in. 

On the other side of the gate the floor became gold as well, still clearly made as cobblestone but something changed the property of it completely. The doing of someone less powerful than the two of them but annoying nonetheless. Technoblade continued walking, seeming as if he didn’t notice the strange atmosphere. There were no guards near the crumbling gold castle, only a single door covered by silk yellow drapes.

When Technoblade stepped into the court the colors scheme changed drastically. The castle turned into a room of mourning. The windows were covered with see through black drapes, the sun not trying to push through the thin fabric. The room is empty except for two life-like golden statues on either side of a polished green throne. The setting pushed a chill down Philza’s spin, the split between anguish and anger ever present on their faces.

“Like what you see?” His voice sounded young, younger than the two of them at least. He stepped out from behind a curtain and walked up to one of the statues. The one his left, his lover. The one to his right, his best friend. Frozen in time stuck living in his forever. 

“You can compliment him. He can hear you,” he speaks eerily of the statue. Technoblade stood silently pulling out his sword.

“I have no interest in any of that-”

“Then you hurt his feelings,” he says, cutting him off. The strange king sat on his throne putting his crown off to the side. Technoblade stepped forward to the same spot, the heels of his shoes clicking with every stride. Philza moved off to the side, watching such precise movements put him back in his element.

“Straight to business I see,” the king sighed before he drew the first swing. Technoblade blocked the reckless attack and thrusted the sword forward, ripping the royal tunic with a small slit. The young king scoffed before advancing. Philza couldn’t see the look on their face, the darkness of court wouldn’t allow it. He could only hear metal scrape off of each other and the echo’s it left in the golden halls.

‘Kill him!’ The voices shrieked, as if it wasn’t enough that the young king was already cut more times than they could count and a heavy metallic scent was already making its way into his nose, he welcomed it. He allowed it to drive his next step. It was never enough, it needed more, for it to end it needed death in payment of relief, something he still foolishly searched for.

“You’re so silent Ares. All of me here ready for you to deliver your punishment and you-”

“We’re bored,” a voice stuttered, disoriented. Along with it came a wild cut through the wind and a body fell and a sick thudding bounced on the floor. Technoblade froze mid swing, his chest rising rapidly but his breath silent to the plain ear. There Philza stood with his own sword in his hand and his wings drawn at full mass. He stood there, just long enough to realize what happened and rage soon rose into his craving for blood.

“That was our kill.” The voice roared from Technoblade’s throat.

“Give him back his body,” Philza demanded. He faced Technoblade with his hand wrapped around his sword and his wings carrying him just above the ground

“You stole our kill.”

“Return his body or I will wage war against you all.”

“You’ve gone so far, fallen one and you've stolen our kill,” the voice was starting to sound more and more like Technobalde’s but it wasn’t him. It was a trick, one he cruelly created so a part of himself wouldn’t fall for it. He sighed and raised his sword against the other. Technoblade mirrored his movement and the two of them attacked. 

It took a single swing from Philza to end the fight. A quick and precise stab to his stomach and Technoblade stood there impaled on his blade. Philza watched the battle in the other’s eyes as he used the pain to draw Technoblade back into the surface. Red eyes finally won, dully shining as they always have done. Philza let the tension in his shoulder sag and he looked to that other in with a smile.

“Techno-”

“All you had to do was stay out of it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you continue to impose yourself in my fate?” Technoblade forced himself off of Philza’s blade. The wound dripped golden colored blood, the pureness of one of the 12. It soaked through his shirt and fell to the floor. Allowing itself to be tainted by the dead king that laid meters in front of him. “Can’t you go back to your mountain and watch? Was it not enough to be up there? You want to pull the strings yourself and be satisfied?”

Satisfied was a funny word when it came to the two of them.

“I was pushed out of the sky because I decided to help you,” Philza reasoned. He pulled his sword back to his side, he had no use for it anymore. If Technoblade decided to attack him, he would not win.

“I didn’t ask for help.”

“Yet you ran around frantically, like a puppet on strings killing in a pit full of beasts and fighting for people beneath you. Yet you just lost control now to voices in your head. You have no space to deny me nor my help.”

“I will kill you like one of those beasts. I will have blood to satisfy myself and it will be yours.”

“That would curse you way beyond your years,” Philza said gravely.

“I have time, you on the other hand wait for your curse and choose to attach yourself to me because you’ve had a single bit of pity for one you are meant to scorn at. You are a fool.”

“I saved you from yourself. I gave you mercy because I was the loudest voice in your head. You don’t hear me any more do you?” Phil asked and Technoblade froze in place when he realized that he was right. Fury boiled within him and one part of him wanted nothing more than to punish him. Another part of him already knew this but was just as hurt. He knew his voice sounded familiar, it was why the warning bells never rang.

“Why?” Was all that he could ask. He wanted a reason why he shouldn’t pull his sword out and force Philza to fight to the death right here and now.

“We are so dependent on each other it’s sickening, we live in the same realm you foolish child,” he hissed. “Don’t make the mistake of forgetting that I was here first. The souls you yearn to kill are the ones that I give you. That one was not for you. Throw a tantrum somewhere else, I have no time for it.” Philza looked down at Technoblade making him seem like only a man. His wings folded gracefully, letting him down from the air. He walked over to the throne, picked up the discarded crown and left Technoblade where he stood. For now he had other things to do than to play into a child’s fits of passion.

“Have this mate,” Philza held the jeweled emerald, his hand dangling out for the other to take.

“An earring?”

“Yeah,” he said excitedly.

“I have one of my own,” he said boredly, dismissing the gift. His own earring was a fiery red gem one he stole from some king that’s been long dead. Along with other worthless rings, jewels and necklaces. They held the screams of people he had to kill for such things. All for the purpose to act as rewards, but really they were just chains. He didn’t need another one.

“I want you to have it,” Phil insisted.

“Take your golden chain for someone else, not me.”

“It’s not a chain, it’s a gift.”

“Well I reject it.”

“You can’t, with this I’m tethering us together.”

“So you can chain yourself as well? Are you confused of who you’re talking to?”

“Take the gift,” Philza said less excitedly than the first time. They were past threats and bringing up nonexistent statues but anger filled him at this moment. They’d only keep clashing if they did do something; even if they tolerated each other's presents a little more than they did millennia ago. There would be no peace between them.

“I don’t want your collar.”

“You stubborn bastard, I care about our friendship. We’ve been strung together by fate and we can fight but I’d rather we fight side by side,” Philza offered. When Technoblade fought he fought alone on the battlefield. Philza watched from the clouds and when things would get too far and he’d notice Techno losing himself he stepped and finished things for him. Then they’d travel together and over the years became a package deal. Gifting Philza with the name the Angel of death. Humans with their little stories and beliefs were silly, but he never felt the need to correct them.

“We always end up fighting together,” Techno admitted.

“That’s because we need each other, we can exist in the same world again,” Philza smiled, offering the emerald earring to Technoblade once again. This time he took it with the small extension of his own smile. He removed the dangling red gem from his ear; his reward for his first massacre and replaced it with the gift. For once everything went silent and screams of agony stopped.

“What did you do?” Technoblade looked at Philza accusatory and confused. His eyes looked to the red jeweled gem that used to ring the loudest in his mind then to the small emerald around Philza’s neck.

“There aren’t many stronger than me. You should find peace now.”

“What does that mean? I take the earring out and suddenly the voices are gone?” He scoffed in disbelief, if that was the case he would have taken it out the day he got the damned thing.

“No, it doesn’t work like that,” Philza chuckled, tucking his own emerald under his shirt, close to his heart. He took a seat next to his friend in a clear plain of tall wild grass. It was quiet out there. In the far distance there was a rushing river, knocking against smooth stones splashing slightly on shore. Along with some small animals that didn’t seem to notice the two beings that didn’t belong in their world. If Techno had to give it a name he’d say it was tranquil.

“Then how does it work?”

“It’s not what you took out, it’s what you replaced it with. Like I said there aren’t many that are stronger than me. Having us tethered together should help with the voices. Enjoy your peace, you deserve to be satisfied.” Technoblade snored at the sappy speech, his own little way for saying thank you. 

“I’m serious Techno; enjoy it,” Phil said, welcoming the other to come closer and lean against his shoulder. When Techno leaned in taking the invitation Phil froze a bit, stiffening up.

“You offered,” Technoblade  huffed, blowing a bit of his bangs out of his view. He heard Phil hum before the man shifted over a bit, his wing draping over the two of them, acting as a blanket for the two of them against the cool breeze. 

Techno's mind slowed as old philosophies died in his head and relief finally crossed his mind. The two warriors sat there embracing the silence as the sky cried, giving them peace.

Chapter Text

“Why do you keep giving me flowers in the morning?”

“Huh?”

“The flowers, Technoblade. I like them, they’re a lovely sentiment but why? I’m not dying or anything,” he chuckled, tossing the small bouquet of flowers over to the polished wooden table in the center of their kitchen.

“That’s not me. I’m with you for the whole day, when would I even have time for that?”

“I don’t know, maybe when I’m sleeping?”

“Not likely and by the way those aren’t flowers,” Technoblade sighed, lazily pointing to small yellow flowers.

“What do you mean? They have petals and leaves and all that other flower stuff.”

“Yeah but those are dandelions, dandelions are weeds,” he explained as Tommy scrunched up his face.

“Oh so you mean to tell me that somebody has been putting weeds on me when I wake up in the morning? Aw man that’s gross,” Tommy whined, wiping his shirt and pants of whatever dirt the flowers may have tracked in.

“Look on the bright side, they look nice,” Technoblade offered.

“Yeah but they’re weeds. Nice looking but weeds nonetheless,” he pouted, spinning the small flower in between his thumb and pointer finger. The flower looked different compared to the ones out in the field the more he played with it the more the bright yellow of the flowers dulled over.

“Y’know Technoblade I think I had some friends a while back before we moved here that used to grow flowers like these. I don’t remember their names though,” he shrugged.

“Makes sense you were young when we left,” he reasoned. “I don’t suppose I remember their names either, but I think they were imaginary.”

“They were not imaginary you fuck, they were real. You remind of this one asshole–”

“What was his name?” Technoblade said immediately cutting him off. He looked at Tommy with a hopeful glint in his eye that Tommy hadn’t seen him with.

“I-I don’t remember it, I’m sorry,” Tommy muttered, his smile slowly fading as the hope in Techno’s face did.

“No, Tommy, don't worry about it. I was just being silly,” Technoblade muttered as an awkward silence fell over the two. Tommy wanted to say something else, maybe something to comfort whatever Technoblade was feeling but the words were stuck in his throat.

“Can you tell me a story? Another of the 6 Labors or maybe something else Theseus has done?” Tommy says instead, changing the topic into something lighter. Technoblade smiled, his bad mood disappearing into something more cheeky and fun.

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, walking over to their bookshelf, picking a book without looking at the title. 

“I have a book to read myself, go outside and play,” he said, opening up to a random page of the book and picking up his glasses. Tommy pouts, playfully sticking out his bottom lip as he goes and tries to drape himself over Technoblade.

“Aw, but can’t we hang out or something? You didn’t even say happy birthday to me yet, all you’ve done is bully me today. I’m turning 16, that makes me a real man and all you want to do is read a dumb book you’ve read before,” Tommy groans, knocking his head against the other’s lightly.

“Oh that was today?”

“Yes, yes it was and you want to push me away and read a boring book,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, slowly siding himself away as he pretended to melt into the ground.

“Well you must forgive me I am getting up there in age,” he sighed, not looking up from his book.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’ll be back in time for dinner,” Tommy says, picking himself off the floor and walking towards the door to leave.

“Okay, and by the way make sure you don’t scream too loud when you see you’re present,” he says nonchalantly, almost imagining perfectly the way Tommy perks up.

“My present?!” Tommy ran outside, excitedly looking around their porch for the gift when he tripped over something on the ground. He turned around and let out a barely contained scream when he picked up the gift, weighing it in his hand.

“I thought I asked you not to scream,” Technoblade said, leaning on the door frame watching Tommy examine the gift.

“An ax?”

“A new one; your old one makes you look like you were carrying around a hatchet. A new ax for a new man,” he shrugged, glancing away as if it wasn’t a big deal. Tommy dropped the gift and ran to Technoblade holding him as if he was only a dream to fade away. Technoblade looked down confusedly, but returned the hug anyway, painfully aware of what was running through the young boy's head at the moment.

“I really thought you forgot Technoblade,” Tommy sniffled, his tears dampening the thin fancied fabric he wore everyday.

“Why?” He asked, already knowing the answer. Talks like these were unavoidable on Tommy’s birthday. They always came at one time or another and it would break his heart each time he had to wipe the tears away from Tommy’s face and promise him it would be okay.

At least this year would be different.

“I-I don’t know. Something feels missing and wrong and I was starting to think it was me. Your eyes don’t shine the way they used to. You tell me not to worry about it but I can’t help it, I'm a worrier,” he let out a wet chuckle and Technoblade hugged him tighter, letting the boy find comfort.

“Don’t worry about the things you can’t change, you are too young for things like that. It’s your birthday, a celebration, you shouldn’t hurt yourself like this.”

“But Technoblade–”

“It gets easier, as time passes. For now forget about your sorrows and I’ll take you down into town,” Technoblade offered, stepping back to give the boy a proper breath of air. Tommy reluctantly stepped back, wiping his face of tears and snot.

“We can go into town? I thought town was off limits,” Tommy asked, with the shadow of a smile.

“See that’s a birthday face,” Technoblade laughed. “Town was off limits because it’s boring and we both know that we’d rather go off in the forest and look for bugs,” Technoblade says walking into the house, picking up whatever they might need for the day's activities.

“What’s wrong with bug hunting? It’s easy and relaxing, plus you can find them in mud. What’s not to love about mud?” Technoblade watched Tommy ramble on with fondness blooming in his chest.

“Why are you lookin’ at me funny? I got something on my shirt?” The boy frantically checked himself not wanting to look like a mess in front of crowds of people.

“No Tommy, you look just fine. You just reminded me of someone,” he sighed, walking out the house placing a hand in his hair. The sun pushed its way through the cracks of the wooden cabin, shining on leftover snow Tommy failed to shovel off earlier in the day.

“Well don’t just stand there in silence; who do I remind you of?”

‘Your brother.’ He wants to say but instead shakes his head and steps off the porch heading into the woods. Tommy follows walking side by side with the slightly troubled man.

“How long of a walk is from our Antarctic Empire to town?” Tommy asked, changing the subject.

“It’s more like a hike Tommy, we live up in the mountains,” Technoblade scoffed. Tommy visibly slumped, dragging his feet with each step.

“It never takes you long to get down the mountain and come back. How long will it take us?”

“That’s because I take the main road. We will take the more scenic route, for your birthday of course.”

“I already know these woods like the back of my hand. What more do I need to see?” He grumbled kicking a stone. It wasn’t like he didn’t like the tour of the woods but he’s lived in these woods all his life there isn’t a thing here he hasn’t seen before.

“You don’t sound very grateful,” Technoblade frowned, feigning disappointment.

“Sorry Technoblade, I don’t mean it. I think I’m just nervous, y’know? Today feels important.” Technoblade hums, lifting up a stray branch for them to continue their little walk. Down the mountain the weather warmed up slightly. It was April after all, they wouldn’t still get snow if it wasn’t so cold.

“There’s a festival happening today in town. Every year they do a lantern lighting for the young crowned prince,” Technoblade says instead. Tommy’s unanswered question doesn’t go unnoticed but is ignored. It happens too often for him to care much anymore, he trusts Technoblade.

“The young prince disappeared after a great tragedy struck, he hasn’t been back since. They celebrate his birthday and at night they light lanterns hoping that he’ll see it in come home.” Tommy noticed something wistful in Technoblade’s voice.

“So I have the same birthday as some missing prince?” He chuckled, hoping it would bring a smile to his face if he did.

“Yeah, it’s a true Theseus move if you ask me,” Technoblade jokes back, unknowingly striking a spark into Tommy’s chest.

“Well me and Theseus are pretty great. We slay beast–”

“You mean you help me hunt every once in a while?”

“That still counts Techno, don’t discredit my work,” Tommy grumbled, giving a soft shove to the man's arm. He half expected the man to push him back but instead Technoblade let out a laugh, grabbing Tommy off the ground so he was carrying him in one of his arms.

“St-stop it put me down, you’re fucking crazy,” Tommy laughed, playfully trying to brake out of Techno’s grip.

“I wanna show you something,” Techno says, reaching out for the next low hanging branch with his free hand.

“Wha- What the fuck are you doing?” Tommy exclaimed as Technoblade hoisted them up, his grip never faltering on Tommy or the branch. This was officially the weirdest birthday he’s ever had. He knew Technoblade was old but maybe the old age was finally getting to him. There was no way Technoblade could single handedly get them on top of the—

“I’ve still got it,” he heard Techno whisper as he successfully reached the top of the branch, balancing almost perfectly on it. Technoblade looked at him with a smile Tommy thought he’d never see again, before clearing his throat. “Consider this training–”

“Aw but it’s my birthday, you're gonna make me work?”

“It’ll be fun Tommy, trust me,” he says, carefully placing Tommy down on the branch next to him. The weak appendage made a soft crackling sound, making Tommy cling on to Technoblade even though they were perfectly still. Techno wrapped a sturdy arm around Tommy.

“Get ready.”

“Get ready? Ready for wha–” It was his only warning before Techno leaped off the branch. Tommy panicked, screwing his eyes shut as he waited for the fall to happen. Instead they landed on something else, the sound of leaves brisling from their weight. It didn’t stop there, Technoblade continued weaving through the trees, Tommy pressed closely to his side.

“Open your eyes Tommy,” he encouraged, his voice sounded light, full of something Tommy hadn't heard in his voice in a long time. Tommy risks a peek at his surroundings just to see it all flying past him like a blur. They were moving through the trees like they were flying but Tommy felt each time Technoblade stopped and switched directions.

“Technoblade, what the fuck are we doing?” Tommy asked, feeling more comfortable as Technoblade continued to hold him close, no longer afraid of falling or getting injured.

“We’re flying.”

“H-How are we flying? Aren’t we still on the ground?”

“And this is where I start the lesson,” Technoblade says, slowing down until he stops completely and carefully lets go of Tommy. The teen fumbles, still not ready to stand up on his own even though Technoblade declared him as such.

“We don’t have wings,” Technoblade says simply.

“Well obviously,” Tommy scoffs but Technoblade isn’t done.

“We don’t have wings because only the strongest or the wisest get those. So we have to fly using other ways,” Technoblade smiles, stepping away from Tommy completely, making him stand on his own.

“People can’t fly Techno. We can’t fly Technoblade, we’re not birds.”

“Then what was I doing?”

“I-I don’t know but it wasn’t flying,” Tommy exclaims, still smiling but utterly confused. He had a feeling Technoblade was going to start rambling in riddles or things he didn’t understand, but instead Techno gave him a goofy looking smile before giving himself another step of space.

“Then you stand here and you tell me what it is,” Technoblade challenges before leaping off the branch they shared. The branch barely moved as a gust of wind blew in Tommy’s face as he left. He moved fast and Tommy shouldn't have been able to see him move but he did. He saw Technoblade’s arms go from a running motion to reaching above his head, stopping the rushed movement by grabbing a branch over his head. When the stop was completed he dropped down from the branch and turned to face Tommy, a smirk evident on his face.

“Technoblade?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell was that?”

“That Tommy, is how we fly. Now it’s your turn,” Technoblade says, holding out his hand inviting him to take his first steps. A small breeze blew by the two of them and Tommy felt something in his heart lurch, out of fear or excitement he didn’t know but the feeling persisted and he didn’t know if he could deny it any longer.

“Holy shit, Technoblade are you out of your mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m trying to teach you something important,” Technoblade insisted, his hand still out, beckoning Tommy over.

“You’re out of your mind, you must be. I’m not jumpin’ off this branch just so I can die on my birthday. I very much want to live Techno, you of all people should–”

“Do you trust me Tommy?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that? Y-Yes, of course I trust you but–”

“Then jump. Jump and fly with me—well unless you’re too scared to,” Technoblade smirks, drawing a scowl on Tommy’s face.

“Was that a fucking challenge bitch?”

“I mean, sure you can take it like that but I know children who could do this type of stuff. Just seems pretty weird that a man wouldn’t know–”

“Shut up bastard I’m going to do this and I’m going to show you,” Tommy hissed, risking a brief glance below him before looking up at Technoblade. The man was still wearing that same teasing smirk but his hand was still out waiting to catch Tommy.

“So, you coming?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m coming it’s just—how exactly do you do this?”

“You jump forward, or more accurately it’s just leaping. You have to put more force in your leg when you take off and everything else should take care of itself,” Technoblade hummed.

“‘Should’? What if it doesn’t and I fall? What then?”

“You won’t fall.”

“How do you know?”

“Have I ever let you fall before?”

“You’ve never let me jump off a tree branch before, yet here we are,” Tommy muttered, before speaking more clearly, “But no Technoblade I suppose you’ve never let me fall before.”

“And I won’t do it now. So hurry up so we can get to town, there’s supposed to be a feast happening at sundown and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Okay, okay fine,” Tommy said, clearing his throat, glancing nervously at the tree branch underneath him. He’s been standing on the branch for 5 minutes now, he supposes if the thing was going to break then it would have happened already. Taking a shaky breath he bracing his knees, putting whatever ‘force’ Technoblade was talking into his legs.

Then he jumped.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting– Sorry, that was a lie, he does know what he was expecting. He was expecting to fall to his death, a horrible tragedy to happen on his birthday. He squeezed his eyes tight, waiting to feel the weight of gravity pull him down and drag him under. Instead he felt wind, rushing against his face and engulfing him.

He waited for the moment to stop but it never did; waiting for a drop that would never come.

Then it was over. He was snatched out of the air and he planted into something hard and firm, his nose bruising on impact.

“Ow, my nose man. That hurt–” Tommy paused, realizing there was a hand in his hair, softly messaging his scalp.

“Tommy, you did great. You went a little farther than I expected but that-that shouldn’t surprise me, you always exceed my expectations,” Technoblade chuckled.

“Wait, I did what? Technoblade, what are you on about?” Tommy asked, taking a step back to get a look at his mentor’s face. There were things that were worth more to him than gold, silver or anything people could offer him and that was the look on Technoblade’s face when he was proud of him.

“We’re not even in the same area anymore, I had to catch you, Tommy. You didn’t even look it took that much out you, you just–”

“Flew,” Tommy says, finishing the sentence for him and Techno hums.

“Yeah, you just flew and I couldn’t be happier for you. Now, do you wanna get to this festival or not?” Technoblade asks, not even waiting for Tommy’s answer before he zooms off, already several branches ahead of him.

“You fucking bastard, you’re cheating,” Tommy exclaims, doing his best to make up the same ground that the elder did. The two raced through the branches, the lead changing with every leap that they made.

Sure, they weren’t “flying,” but it felt like it. With each time that they jumped through the air it was like gravity didn’t exist. Their bodies may have been tied to the ground but it was their souls that were weightless and allowed them to take on the feeling of flying. It was something about Tommy that made it feel so painstakingly familiar, he didn’t know what to do with the feeling.

It could have been years ago, maybe a misplaced dream he had one night but it was just him and Techno. He was small, way younger than the age he was now and he thinks Technoblade was running from something or some place. It was the middle of the night, a cold winter and he remembers a full moon up in the sky lighting their path just as the sun was doing for them right now. He thinks that was the first and only time he’s seen Technoblade cry. Warm tears matted in his hair as they left wherever they came from.

That was 4 years ago and right before he got that huge fever that muddled his memories. He doesn’t tend to think about those times very often but now doesn’t like a bad time to reflect. He had no idea what was wrong during that time, or the burdens that Technoblade carried that made him so sad but if they could do this everyday. If they could fly without their feet ever leaving the grown and Tommy was able to hear him laugh like this all the time, then he didn’t care.

He was happy like this, and he intended to keep it this way.

When the two of them got to the town line it was perfectly noon, the sun was at its highest point in the sky and its light gave a glow to the town that made it look like it had a halo surrounding it.

“Woah, what the fuck,” Tommy muttered under his breath as Technoblade jumped down from a branch and dusted himself off.

“Nice right?” Technoblade says holding his hand out for Tommy to take. Tommy takes the offer and slides down, not catching his footing all the way, but making his stumble as graceful as he could.

“I meant to do that,” he says proudly, pushing off Technoblade's chest as if he didn’t just fall face first into it.

“Yeah sure, you did,” Technoblade hums, barely humoring him. “Let’s go enjoy the festival before it gets late.”

The two walk past the town line and automatically Tommy feels a change in atmosphere around him. There are rows of shops and carts selling foods and items he’s never seen before. The flag was simple but elegant, a white background with a black rose in the middle. The edges were bordered in gold adding a bit of shine to it. It was something Tommy could have sworn was familiar if the idea didn’t sound so foreign to him.

From the rooftops of each house hung lit candles, though they still had hours of light left before sundown. Each string of streamers and decorations stretched on further than Tommy could see, including with the amount of people that were out in the streets chatting away or just enjoying the decorations as he was.

“Technoblade?”

“Yeah?”

“Is the town always like this? Do they really do this every year? It seems like so much,” Tommy says in awe as he grabs Technoblade’s hand and leads him to one of the stalls that caught his eye. It is one of the smaller ones owned by an old woman that had a display of scented candles.

“They’ve been doing it for a while Tommy, I’d say 4 or 5 years now. Have you found something interesting?” Technoblade says referring to the stall Tommy had dragged him over to.

“Do I have to pay for anything today? Oh- before you answer it is my birthday so it would make a great gift if I didn’t,” Tommy says, hinting to the cart before turning his attention to the candles in front of him.

“Well hello foreigners, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two around before,” the old woman says, a wrinkled smile forming on her lips.

“Yeah well, it’s my birthday and I’m turning 16, so it’s kinda a big deal. How much do these candles sell for,” Tommy asked excitedly, as Technoblade eyed the old woman.

“Ah 16, such a good coming of age celebration I can tell you that. The prices for my candles are usually really high since I make them myself. I am an old woman, I can’t slaughter pigs like you probably could,” the woman hums, turning around behind her to pick up an old palm weaved basket.

“Slaughter pigs? Why would you have to do that for?”

“I make my candles out of pig fat since I have so many of them. Most of my sows have so many litters I don’t know what to do with them. I usually give them to the village for celebrations like this or make my candles to sell at festivals. I’d tell you more but I don’t want to bore you with the stories of the likes of me. Here, take this basket and pick any 3 you want free of charge,” the old woman smiles, handing Tommy the basket and encouraging him to take what he wants.

“Oh thank you–”

“We can’t let you do that, we have to pay,” Technoblade says, interpreting the conversation for the first time since it started. He slightly reaches for Tommy to take a step back and reaches in his pocket for a couple gold coins.

“What she just offered us free stuff, why would we say no,” Tommy says half-shocked from sudden protectiveness.

“It’s bad manners to be a guest and take someone’s hard work,” Technoblade warns, seeming scolding towards Tommy before turning towards the old woman. “We can’t have this for free, please give us a price.” The old woman eyes at Technoblade but he’s unbudging. For a second Tommy’s confused, feeling as if he was wrapped in something he knew nothing about yet but then the eeriness drifts away as the woman sighs. Her smile isn’t the same as before, instead it’s strained and she clearly looks annoyed but doesn’t voice it.

“You should listen to him, he’s raising you to be a fine young man; a fresh vineyard that would make the sweetest bottle of wine. Since you’ve been so insistent, please spare me 3 gold coins, a coin for each candle and you may still pick whichever ones you want,” the old woman hums, handing Tommy the basket and opening her arms to her selection.

“Aw this is great, lady, you just made the start to one of my best birthday ever. My name’s Tommy, the mean brooding one that doesn’t take free things is Technoblade. Your name would be?” Tommy asks as he taps his finger on cheek as if this was the most important decision of his life and in a way, it was.

“My name is Clementine, but you strangers can call me Clem.” A gust of wind blows, carrying the smell of food and the sound of windchimes from a vendor further down. 

“Nice to meet you Clem. As for my choices, I choose the sunflower, chrysanthemum and the orchids seem like good scents for the house, don’t you think?” Tommy says, directing his question towards Technoblade. When the man didn’t answer after a few seconds Tommy looked up at him, to see Technoblade staring at him with the most relieved face Tommy had seen him in a while.

“Tommy, thank Clem for the candles. We shouldn’t hold up much more of her business, plus there is so much more of this festival we have to see,” Technoblade happily drops Clem the 3 gold coins and pulls Tommy away from her stall. 

“Technoblade, what the fuck is up with you? First you’re happy, then you’re all sad and shit. Then you do this really weird intimidation thing at poor Clem, the lady who just wanted to give us free things and now you're happy again?”

“Not just happy Tommy, I'm elated or something like that. You just took a 1,000 year burden off my shoulders, we have so much to talk about when we get home, I have so much to explain,” Techno sighs heavily, but he couldn't have looked lighter. Tommy didn't know why Technoblade was so strange, but he loves it. Even if it meant him being confused, slightly overwhelmed and walking through a crowded road.

“This isn't another birthday talk is it?” Tommy groans as Technoblade pulls him towards a food stall.

“No, it's not. Anyway, here, try these,” Technoblade sprinkles a few coins into the sitting jar of the cart and picks up two wrapped pastries.

“What is it?” Tommy asked suspiciously, sniffing the treat in his hand.

“You've got to try it, first,” Technoblade says, his mouth already full with the pastry. Tommy eyed his mentor, then shrugged and took a bite. Immediately the taste of dry fruits and flaky bread melted in his mouth. The butter was still warm, greasing the top of his lip as he took another bite.

“Oh, well you have to tell me now it’s nothing like anything you’ve ever made before. This is delicious,” Tommy says as he finishes the pastry and reaches for a couple more to put inside his basket for later.

“Okay fine, those are fruit biscuits. These are cherry tarts and here,” Techno reaches over to the back row of treats and grabs a couple to place in the basket as well. “Cookie sandwiches, with strawberry jam I think.”

“What? Why don’t you ever make me these things?”

“Maybe because I don’t know how,” Technoblade says pointedly, walking back into the road with Tommy shortly on his heels.

“Seems like something to invest in. Including with the way you normally cook,” Tommy mutters, throwing a cheeky grin towards Techno.

“Heh? Do you have something against my gourmet, top of the line cooking? How dare you, you’ll see if I ever cook for you again,” the man huffs, feigning hurt as Tommy leans on him, wrapping his arm around his neck.

“You’d be doing me a favor if I get to eat this instead. This town is amazing, haven't we been here more often?”

“That’s complicated, but we’re here now and that’s all that matters. For the celebration of a lifetime, all the ones to come,” Technoblade smiles, ruffling Tommy’s hair as a sign of good faith. Technoblade rarely got sentimental like that, and it seemed like they had lifetimes for it to even matter. Yet when he did, Tommy couldn’t help but bask in it, no matter how brief it was.

“Yeah sure, no need to get all sappy in shit. All I meant was that, I’m glad to be here and–” Tommy paused, someone bumped into his chest, a soft thud happening on impact.

“Ouch–”

“Oh, I-I’m so sorry, I should be looking where I’m going–” the teen says, rubbing his bruising nose as he looks up at Tommy. The teen’s eyes widen, his words seeming to get stuck in his throat. He glances over to Tommy’s side and see’s Technoblade and suddenly he’s taking a shaky step back, looking as if he’s seen a ghost.

“You don’t gotta look at me like that, I know it was an accident. It’s not like I’m gonna pumble you for it or something,” Tommy says, not understanding teen’s sudden panic. Instead his eyes lingered on Technoblade, while the other stared back looking just as shocked.

“Y-Yeah I know that, I’m just—Hold on boss man, I’m being weird, let’s start over. Hi, I’m Tubbo, I own the flower cart just a ways down. Sorry for bumping into you,” Tubbo says, a beaming smile and his hand held out for Tommy to shake. It seemed like time slowed down for a moment and froze. What about that boy seemed so familiar?

“Hey Tubbo, the mean looking guy is Technoblade and I’m Tommy. Now, show me your flowers. I’d like to buy some,” Tommy demands jokingly, nudging a smile on Tubbo’s face. As they shook hands, the teen seemed to relax and this time his smile seemed more genuine towards Tommy and Technoblade.

“Okay then let’s go,” Tubbo says excitedly.

“Oh Techno, you don’t mind me going to the flower cart, do you? Did you have something else you wanted to do?” Tommy says, feeling Tubbo squeeze his hand lightly. He had no idea when they started holding hands, but he wasn’t opposed to it.

“I was just gonna head to more food carts, maybe find a place that grew fresh tea leaves that’s all, but that’s all old man stuff. You go have fun with your friend, we can meet up before the feast, alright?”

“Alright, see you then. Well Tubbo, I guess that means I can go–” Before Tommy can finish his sentence Tubbo drags him off into the crowd, weaving through the large amounts of people. Tommy tries to look back, to catch sight of Techno one more time but the man had already disappeared from his sight. He didn’t know how they had gotten so far in such little time, but for some reason it didn’t surprise him.

Tubbo was strong for someone so short. His voice was still kinda squeaky as he pushed through and spouted back apologies as they ran past but Tommy figured that just added to his charm. Tubbo started to slow down as the amount of people began to lessen. They were starting to come across what looked like to be the center of the village, where all the stringed lights seemed to meet up and weaved into a pattern that looked like the sun.

There were homes with storefronts, people laughing and telling stories, while others danced to faint music that could be heard around the square. Tommy had never seen anything like this, or if he has he doesn’t remember it. All of this life and joy was so close, right at his fingertips. The feeling of gaining something important that he lost returned for a moment and he felt himself smile.

“Hey so Tommy, it’s really hard to get a spot in the square because it’s super close to the king's house,” Tubbo says, pointing to the house a little bit further down the main road. The house looked dreary, two weeping willows swaying yet there was no recognizable wind passing through. If Tommy stared hard enough he thinks he saw the silhouette of a man looking out of the window, but as soon as he blinked it was gone.

“I thought kings live in castles, not plain houses,” Tommy grumbles.

“Yeah but Philza isn’t really into the whole luxury thing. He slept in a tree for months before the people realized and built him that very house,” Tubbo hums, his pace much slower since he was closer to the place he wanted to take Tommy.

“Huh, interesting. By interesting I mean stupid, why would you willingly sleep in a tree when you could have a badass castle and all the money you want?”

“Well maybe he wanted to be a hero without all the fame.”

“I still think it’s dumb. If heroes die, no matter what, then they might as well be rich and cool with all the women and a fancy house. If I was a hero, that’s what I’d want,” Tommy says boldly, missing the hurt look in Tubbo’s eye.

“That’s the stupid idea if you ask me,” Tubbo mutters but Tommy doesn’t hear and he doesn’t bother say to the warning again.

The two of them head over to the end of the line of shops. Behind one of the stalls sat a teen with a crown of dandelions on his head and braid just past his shoulder. He had just finished selling a few yellow roses to what looked like a mother and her child, who walked away from the stand just as Tubbo pushed Tommy behind the stall and into the other unexpecting teen’s lap.

“Huh, excuse me–”

“Tubbo, you bastard–”

“Ranboo meet Tommy. Tommy this is Ranboo. Say ‘hello,’” Tubbo instructs cheekily.

“Wait, Tubbo, did you just say Tommy? I–”

“How dare you shove me into the lap of this- this Boob boy! You don’t even give me a warning you bastard, you just shoved me,” Tommy cries angrily with no heat behind his words, his playful insults falling out of his mouth without a second thought. Instead of answering Tubbo just laughs and plucks a sunflower from the front of the cart, handing it to Tommy with a pat on the back.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Will this make it up?”

“It better be free,” Tommy groans, fixing himself to sit properly on the bench behind the stall. Without questioning it, Ranboo made room for him, confusion written all over his face but he never voiced it. Finally Tubbo sat on the other end, sandwiching Tommy in the middle with an evil grin on his face.

“Of course it’s free boss man, as long as you keep us company for the evening.”

“Well sure, as long as you two aren’t wrongens,” Tommy says, mainly hinting to the look Tubbo was giving him. To this both Ranboo and Tubbo looked at him in surprise, but it was evident there was a fondness he couldn’t understand that was there as well.

“Oh trust me, we start no trouble what’s so ever Tommy. We’re great people,” Ranboo says, nudging Tommy in his ribs a bit.

“Yeah Tommy, you’re in great hands,” Tubbo promises, wrapping his arms around both Tommy and Ranboo as they wait for their next customer. For some reason sitting with two friends felt normal to Tommy. It was so easy to fall into quick banter with Tubbo and Ranboo even though he only met them 15 minutes ago.

He had a feeling they would be friends for a long time.