Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy coughed and spat around the mouthful of gritty, wet soil, gagging slightly at the taste of the dirt and sleet mixture. He had somehow managed to swallow some when he had been shoved back onto the ground, but the taste wasn’t as bad as the dull aching pain in his face where it had collided with the hard ice below. Still, he made sure to keep his glare on his face as he looked back up, not faltering. “I’m not lying!” he screeched, his seven-year-old voice high-pitched and grating.

The group of kids around him, three boys and one girl, all laughed. The girl even stepped forward, kicking more dirt up into his face - the dirt was wet with melting snow, turning it into cold mud, and it splattered upon his cheek, making the seven-year-old wrinkle his expression in disgust.

“He’s not lying,” the older girl repeated, mocking his voice. She crouched down a bit in front of him, hands on her knees, a smirk on her face. “Yet you still haven’t been able to prove anything to us, so - he seems like a pretty big liar to me, huh?”

Tommy pushed himself up to his knees. His entire front was covered in snow and mud - his clothes stained deep with the substances, his hands and arms caked. The matrons of the orphanage weren’t going to be happy when he showed up looking like this, but it was the last concern in Tommy’s mind right now. “It doesn’t work like that -!”

“Of course it doesn’t,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes and stepping back.

One of the other boys stepped over next. He was the bigger one with actual muscle on his arms, the one that had pushed him over before, smearing mud all over the younger child. As Tommy watched, he pushed his fist into an open palm, a threat. “If you stopped fucking lying, you wouldn’t be such an outcasted rat,” he sneered, taking another step forwards.

Tommy’s heart jerked in his chest and he tried to scramble back but he wasn’t fast enough, and then he was being shoved on his back in the filthy snow again, more of it getting into his hair. As if keeping his hair clean wasn’t hard enough already at the orphanage. He only had a few minutes with icy cold water, and it was never enough to pick out all the mud, dirt, and grease that the constant shoving summoned to the once-fluffy strands.

He could remember before. Before he was sent here - before the world came crashing down around his head.

He could remember sitting in his mother’s lap as she combed through his hair so delicately, fingers pulling each knot out. His father would sit in front of the duo, and they would all laugh as magic leaked from his father’s hands in explosions of lights, tiny glowing figures with swords acting out a story as they fought off dragons and evil kingdoms.

They cared for his hair like it was something special, tying it back with pins and cleaning it every morning, the golden-colored strands shimmering under their care, glowing in the sun. They would press kisses against the top of his head, whispering nicknames into his ears - sunshine, sunspot, sunlight, sun sunsun…

“I’m not lying!” Tommy yelled again, pushing himself up onto his elbows and kicking his leg out angrily, the sharp motion being easily dodged. “I can do magic! I can!”

Even if his magic was only a small spark in his chest, less a fire and more a candle flame struggling to stay alight during a cold night. Before those four words, it had been cared for. It had been fueled by the dash of cinnamon on his toast that he loved, by the extra bubbles his mother summoned into his baths, and by the kisses pressed to each scraped knee and elbow. It had grown strong, and magic would bleed from his hands, glowing just as brightly as his sunlit hair.

But he still had it, even if he could hardly feel it at times. It was still there. It was still his, the gift from his parents, who -

“If your parents had magic,” the girl scoffed, “then they wouldn’t have been killed by a common thief, of all things.”

Your parents are gone.

“Shut up! You’re fucking stupid, I hate you, you’re all idiots! I have magic, I do - I can turn straw into gold!” Tommy insisted. He tried to sit up but the boy stepped on his chest, and it was all he could do to gasp for air against the sudden pressure. He feared his ribs would crack and splinter like matchsticks, he was scared the boy would stomp down directly through his chest and onto his flame, extinguishing it once and for all -

But he just laughed as Tommy choked, and they backed away at last and ignored the seven-year-old as he shakily got up to slump against a tree. Tears slid down his cheeks, at last, freezing on his face in the cold air, and he made sure his head was turned away so they couldn’t see them as they start walking away. He could hear them laughing and giggling all the while.

His parents were dead. His parents were dead and gone, and they couldn’t care for his hair, or add cinnamon to his toast. They couldn’t add extra bubbles to his bath, they couldn’t kiss the bruise on his chest and wipe the mud from his arms. He couldn’t sit next to his dad as he creates new clothes for Tommy in a flurry of gold.

He couldn’t do magic, because he was alone.

Tommy pressed his face into his knees and cried harder, shaking and coming apart at what felt like the seams. His breathing was coming out in shaky gasps, tiny pained wheezes as his fingers scrambled at the snow on the ground next to him, digging into the cold as though it could ground him in reality. He could feel the minutes moving by.

He knew he had to get control of himself. He knew someone would come looking for him soon, and they wouldn’t be happy if Tommy was missing, not there to do his chores and stand in a line and act like a doll, but…

It wasn’t fair. His parents were good people, and Tommy loved them, and he missed them. He just wanted them back. He just wanted them to hold him, rub his back, and tell him that everything would be -

“Everything is going to be fine,” a voice spoke, and a hand pressed against the center of his back, rubbing there, in a small but firm circle. The spark in his chest jumped slightly, the candle flick sputtering and flickering around widely as Tommy’s head snapped up.

He knew he must be a sorry sight. Everything the other orphans had done to him combined with his snot and tear-stained face, cheeks red, and eyes bloodshot - he had to be something pathetic to look at, but the first thing he saw as he looked up was a smile that didn’t falter.

The man’s face was mostly covered in a mask, only his bright blonde hair and small smile visible under where his mask rested. He was wearing mostly shades of green, a far different look from the blues and whites that dominated the Antarctic Empire. He was also a stranger. Tommy had never seen him before, he knew this strange man didn’t work in the orphanage.

The man knelt down before him, and Tommy flinched back ever so slightly into the tree behind him, breath hitching. Still, the man’s hand didn’t stop in its motions, the other one raising to wipe some of the cold mud from his cheek with a soft ‘tch.’ “Do they treat you like this often?” he questioned, frowning. “I grew up in an orphanage as well. I know what it’s like.”

Tommy’s eyes widened a bit. The touch on his cheek stayed gentle. It had been so long since he felt anything gentle. He couldn’t help but lean into it, just a little bit, even though he knew this man was a stranger, and he knew he had to be careful around strangers. “Who are you?” he demanded instead of answering the man’s questions.

He was trying not to think about what the man said, that he knew what it was like, the institution that he was like Tommy. No one knew what it was like to be Tommy. Even if this man grew up in an orphanage, Tommy doubted he knew what it was like to feel the magic inside you fade into a flickering candle, dying slowly, day by day. He doubted he knew what it was like to go from happy, to losing everything.

“You can call me Dream. Are you hurt?”

“No,” Tommy snapped, ignoring the aches and pains all across his body, caused by the numerous bruises there.

Any of the matrons would have snapped back, would have knocked him over the head with their palms, and glared down at him for his attitude, but Dream’s mouth only softened into a smile. “I’m glad.”

Tommy felt his cheeks flush, warm. “You -”

“Can you really do magic?”

All at once, Tommy felt frozen again, muscles freezing just like the winter lands around them. His mouth parted, staring silently at the man for a moment. No one ever believed him about his magic. This kindness - the hand rubbing his back, the hand still wiping mud away from his features - would end the second Tommy told him the truth.

But he couldn’t deny the flame in his chest. It felt worse to lie about it, the last thing he had left of his parents like he was betraying them.

Tommy swallowed hard, twitching away from the hands that would surely become harsh and bruising any second now. “Yes,” he replied, pushing as much stubbornness into his voice as he could, “I can. I can turn straw into gold.”

It was the first thing he learned how to do. Gold was the currency of the Antarctic Empire, and he loved the way it shined, shimmering under the sun. It reminded him of his family and his home, the nicknames his parents had draped him with, the love his chest had burst within those long lazy days of golden warmth. There was always some special ability every magic user had, shown in the way their magic first introduced itself, and that had been Tommy’s.

His parents had loved it. They wore necklaces Tommy made, bracelets, and earrings for his mom. They had worn them until they caught too much notice, and Tommy’s gifts had brought them to their graves.

A hiccup caught in his throat, tears burning at his eyes again as he leaned away from Dream, only stilling when Dream reached up to brush aside the tears with his gloved fingers.

“I believe you, Tommy.”

The sparks in his chest lept and burned with relentless enthusiasm, and Tommy’s eyes widened. He has frozen again for an entirely new reason, staring at Dream with his mouth slightly parted in startled surprise. “Really?”

“Really. You seem like a good kid. … Can you show me?”

Of course, there had to be a catch. Tommy slumped back into the tree once more, blinking past tears, even as Dream continued to wipe them away with eternal patience. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t been able to, since… since…” Tommy choked on his words, stumbling, struggling. “Since I came here.”

This was the part when Dream would turn on him, surely. Who would believe someone who could offer no proof? It was the same thing the other kids said as they rolled their eyes at him, pointing out that if he wasn’t lying he could just show them, and then they would believe him. Laughing and turning away from him and his stuttered explanations of why he couldn’t do that.

Once again, Dream broke all of Tommy’s expectations, only giving him a sincere smile. “I think you can.”

“I can’t -”

Dream stopped rubbing his back, and Tommy nearly whined at the loss, as Dream reached into one of his deep pockets and pulled out a single strand of straw. He held it out to Tommy, and after a long moment, Tommy accepted it, holding it in pale, frozen fingers and staring down at it with a lost expression.

“Tommy,” Dream remarked, and the child looked back up at him. “You’re very special. I believe that you can do it. And if you can, then you can come home with me, because I need someone special just like you. We can be a family.”

A family. With Dream.

The flames in his chest burned brighter. It was the brightness they had been since all those months ago, warm echoing from his core, even if it wasn’t as bright as it had been before the incident.

Would it be enough?

Dream was a stranger. But he was the only one who had comforted Tommy, the only one that called him special and rubbed his back and wiped his tears, and something deep in Tommy’s brain was begging for it, that comfort and that warmth and that promise of family. Part of Tommy was horribly, brokenly desperate for that.

Would he be enough?

Tommy bent his head down, staring at the straw in his small, trembling hands for a moment before he let his eyes fall shut and concentrated. He reached for that flame inside him, focusing on the warmth, the spark of orange and red and bright golden yellow, looking for the spark of magic that rested in the embers.

For a horrible handful of seconds, nothing happened, and then the fire caught. It was a quick reaction. Fire always spreads fast. It was like he was being set on fire himself, only it didn’t hurt, and there was no ash and smoke to clog his lungs and blind him. It was only warm.

The trembling in his fingers slowed as the warmth reached them. It reached his toes a second later, before rushing up into his head and his ears, entwining his entire body in golden flames and light.

Then it was over.

Tommy peeled his eyes open slowly, anxiety swirling around in his stomach as he looked down at his palms once more. There, nestled between his fingers, was a single strand of glittering, solid gold.

Dream’s smile somehow got wider, his teeth flashing in something that Tommy could refer to as absolute glee. “Let’s go home,” he spoke, his arms wrapping around Tommy. A moment later Tommy’s feet were leaving the ground, and he was wrapped in Dream’s arms, held up by the man.

Dream kept his promise.

He took Tommy home. 

Chapter Text

“Emotions fuel all magic,” George stated. The older man was sitting crossed-legged in front of Tommy, and Tommy was trying his best to pay attention. He knew this was important. Dream had told him over and over again that he had to learn how to control his powers better, that he had to learn how to use them quickly and without getting tired so fast. That way he would be able to continue to provide his new family with lots of high-quality gold, which they could use to buy everything they needed. That was how Dream had bought them their new home.

“Those emotions can technically be anything,” George continued, “but the stronger the emotion, the stronger the magic.” Their new home was amazing. It was bigger than any house Tommy had ever been in before. He even had his own bedroom! Dream had taken him to the market and he had let Tommy decorate it however he wanted. As long as Tommy was being useful, then he would keep getting all of these ‘special privileges.’

“It’s clear that you power your magic primarily through positive emotions, mostly with emotions you feel when you’re interacting with people you care about.” As long as Tommy was being useful, then he got to have a family that loved him. Every time he turned straw into gold, Dream would smile at him and ruffle his hair, or give him a hug. It made that fire in his chest grow from the flicker of a candle to a roaring bonfire, warming him up from the inside out.

“Have you ever tried powering your magic with other emotions?” Tommy still missed his parents a lot. He loved staying with Dream, but Dream wasn’t the same as his parents. Dream didn’t give him bubble baths or cinnamon toast. Dream was a very busy man who had to work a lot, and he needed space and quiet. He didn’t like it when Tommy tried to play, spoke too loudly, or bothered him when he was working.

“Tommy? Are you listening?” So Dream wasn’t the same as his parents, but that was okay. Tommy didn’t want to replace his mom and dad, and even if Dream was different, he was still family and he had saved Tommy. Tommy loved him very much. He loved George and Sapnap too, who were part of his family just like Dream. They didn’t mind his playing as much as Dream did either, so when Dream went out Tommy was allowed to play. Sometimes Tommy liked to pretend the floor was lava, and Sapnap even joined in once or twice!

Really, Tommy had no complaints at all. “Tommy!”

Tommy flinched, twisting in his seated position to blink over at where Dream sat. He was reading a thick book, but now he was looking up at Tommy with a frown. “George is taking the time to teach you how to use your magic, and you’re not listening,” he scolded.

Right. He knew he had been forgetting about something. Tommy turned towards George, taking in the man’s tired expression. He just had a hard time sitting still and listening for so long, and George was kind of boring. Even if he had magic as well, George didn't seem that strong. “What?” he questioned, bouncing slightly in place.

“Apologize to George,” Dream scolded from behind Tommy. “If you want to be part of this family, then you need to pull your weight. Do you want to go back to the orphanage?”

Even the mention of the orphanage made Tommy’s stomach twist. He had only been with Dream for about a month, and the memories of the orphanage were still much too clear in his memory. “I’m sorry,” he said quickly, his fingers twisting together in his lap. “I do want to learn! I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

George sighed, glancing at Dream over Tommy’s shoulder for a moment before focusing on the seven-year-old again. “It’s fine,” he drawled out slowly, “I asked if you’ve ever tried powering your magic with emotions other than love.”

Tommy’s magical core sang inside his chest, a whisper of warmthwarmthlovelovelove, and Tommy shook his head. His magic was made of love and loyalty and sunshine. He didn’t think he could use it if he tried to make it from anything else. It would be like the orphanage all over again when he felt his magic slowly dying inside of him. He shuddered at the thought.

He wouldn’t let that happen again! He was a big man now, and he had a family, and he had Dream. But maybe he should try to learn from George, in case anything happened. In case there was a bad guy who tried to hurt Dream, like a thief who wanted to steal all the gold Tommy made for him. Tommy had to be prepared if something bad like that ever happened, so he could protect Dream.

George didn’t seem surprised by his answer. “Anger is another strong emotion that can power magic,” he suggested. “Those who use magic for revenge have some of the strongest spells. Mothers who lose their children, knights who lose their comrades, kings who lose their kingdoms, citizens who lose their homes… children who lose their parents.”

Tommy swallowed. He was angry from the loss of his mom and dad, of course he was, but he was also sad and hurt and scared and guilty, and a million other conflicting emotions that tangled up into a sticky mess in his chest that felt impossible to unravel. He wasn’t sure if he could just focus on the rage. Not that he would say that. Instead, he nodded along. “I’m so good at magic, I can do it,” he quickly agreed. "I'm the best sorcerer!" 

George smiled at him, dropping a few strands of straw in between them. “Focus on how you felt when your parents died. Focus on the anger, the rage, that filled you when you realized someone took them away from you,” he instructed, “and then use that rage to form magic.”

Tommy tried. He picked up the straw in one hand and squeezed it tight, and tried his best to think of all the things in his life that were so unfair. He thought of his parents and tried to bite back the agony those thoughts brought with them. He thought of the orphanage, and the way the other kids treated him.

He felt the burning bonfire in his chest flicker and diminish, his flames creeping back among the fuel as though hiding from the sick that rose in Tommy’s throat, the tears that burned in his eyes.

He tried. He really, really did, but he failed.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” George decided later when Tommy continued failing.

Dream didn’t give him any food that night. Tommy had failed, so he wasn’t part of their family until he was able to contribute to them again.

Tommy loved Dream. He loved his new home and his new family, and he was so thankful that someone had lifted him out of the torture that was the orphanage.

Nevertheless.

As another month in Dream’s care passed by without Tommy’s abilities developing any further, the touches, gifts, and kind words lessened accordingly. If Tommy wanted to be part of their family, he knew he had to earn it. He wasn’t theirs by blood, and they had been kind enough to take him in - but as Dream taught him, all kindness comes with a price.

He was trying.

Would he be enough?

“We need more money,” Dream said, dropping another bag full of straw in Tommy’s lap.

It had been a long day. Tommy had been bored since Dream had been very busy translating an old book of magic into the Antarctic Empire’s native tongue, so Tommy wasn’t allowed to make any noise at all. Even his attempts at playing a quiet game - stacking up all the books on the shelf into a tall tower - had upset Dream when he noticed, and Dream had stood up and yelled at him, calling him a nuisance and treating Tommy like he had upset Dream on purpose.

It had been a hard day. Sapnap’s promise to take him out into the market the next morning helped. Sapnap even promised he could pick something for himself, a treat as long as he stayed out of Dream’s way for the rest of the day.

Now Dream was done with his translating, and he immediately turned towards Tommy to begin making them more gold for tomorrow.

Normally Tommy would be happy to help Dream. He had been happy with the first bag of straw, when Dream had sat next to him and let Tommy lean against him, listening to Tommy tell him all about how his week had gone, starting with the baby bunnies he had seen out the window a few days prior. Dream had nodded and laughed and asked questions at all the right times, and Tommy’s chest flowed with magic.

The second bag of straw had been okay. Tommy’s fingers had started to cramp up, and the magic in his chest started to hurt a little as Tommy kept trying to use more and more of it. The flames had started to flicker lower and lower, but Dream had ruffled Tommy’s hair and asked him to tell him more, and Tommy had been more than happy to oblige.

But this bag was the third bag Dream had put in his lap, and Tommy’s stomach was starting to hurt really badly. His magic felt like it was burning when he tried to use it. It wasn’t the usual comfortable warmth, it was painful like it was trying to hurt Tommy. His magic felt worse than it did when he tried to power it with his anger.

Dream leaned close and hugged him, and Tommy felt himself melt into the touch, his magic sparking. “Do you want to tell me another story?” he offered, keeping an arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulders. In the past couple of months, Tommy had told Dream a few of the stories his parents had told him. The stories were so special to Tommy, and sharing them with Dream felt a lot like trust. A lot like love.

Immediately, the flames in his chest flickered a little bit higher, and Tommy took a deep breath. He could do this. Dream needed him to do this, and Tommy needed to be enough.

There was another story Tommy remembered, it was about a cow named Henry (Tommy had picked the name) who had a sick friend. Henry had to go on an adventure, and Tommy hadn’t even known that cows could be adventurers. Cows had quickly become his favorite animal after that. Tommy was pretty sure cows would be Dream’s favorite animal as well, after this story.

So he tried.

But. Tommy felt really, really sick even as he picked up another strand of straw and watched it transform into sparkling gold. Even that single strand made him gag, his hands trembling and cramping, his fingers aching. He felt sore.

But. He wanted to keep being part of Dream’s family. He wanted to tell Dream about Henry.

“Did you know cows can be adventurers too?” Tommy questioned, picking up another strand and turning it to gold even as his hands shook harder and bile rose in his throat.

“How can a cow be an adventurer?” Dream wondered, sounding curious and intrigued. “They can’t use swords to fight dragons!”

Tommy giggled, picking up another strand of straw. “They don’t need swords! Henry is the best cow ever, he’s better than swords.”

“Better than dragons?”

“Better than dragons! Cows are pog.” Tommy liked that word. He made it up all by himself.

Tommy didn’t get to tell Dream why cows were pog. He hadn’t even gotten to the actual adventure part of the story before his stomach refused to be ignored any longer, and rebelled on him.

Tommy gagged hard, feeling a wave of horrible dizziness wash over him before he threw up into his own lap. Dream flinched and jumped up and away from him with a sharp noise of disgust.

Tommy’s body heaved, trembling as he coughed up a few more mouthfuls of bile. It smelled disgusting, and Tommy was already in tears, hiccuping as saliva and bile dripped down his chin. He felt gross, he smelled awful, and throwing up was making his sickness hit him at full blast. His hands still hurt, his stomach still hurt, and his head was starting to pound with flashes of sharp pain.

He needed help . “Dream,” he choked out with a whine as he reached toward Dream.

The man took another step away, his expression screwed up into something that looked like disdain. “Fuck,” he cursed. Tommy agreed.

“Help?” he questioned, sniffing through his tears. Whenever he got sick, his mom and dad would always run him a warm bath and brush his tears away. Then they would tuck him into bed and make him something warm, that was nice in his stomach. Even at the orphanage, they would help him change his clothes and make him lie down, even if he would still shiver under his thin blanket and the food they gave him wasn’t half as good.

“Fuck,” Dream said again, looking away for a second. “You threw up all over the straw! Now we can’t use any of it!”

The straw? Tommy looked down. He had, but he was more upset about how it was on his clothes. “I’m -” Tommy sniffed, wiping his nose and mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, “I’m sorry, I -”

“Just…” Dream sighed, running his hands down his face. “Why didn’t you say you were feeling sick? I’m not a mind reader!”

“I’m sorry -”

Dream waved his hand in a dismissive motion. Tommy snapped his jaw shut, he knew that meant Dream wanted him to be quiet, but he couldn’t stop his hitched breathing and shaky sobs. “Go to your room,” Dream snapped.

He wanted to take a bath. He wanted Dream to tuck him in bed, he wanted help with his clothes, he wanted -

But Dream was angry with him, and he would yell if Tommy annoyed him, and Tommy’s head already hurt, and if Dream yelled it would hurt even more, and then he might start crying so much that he would never be able to stop. So he went to his room, and Dream locked the door behind him.

Dream didn’t unlock the door the next day. Tommy didn’t get to go to the market with Sapnap.

Dream wanted lots of expensive magical ingredients for a potion he found in the dusty old book, and it would cost a lot of gold to get everything he needed. It was Tommy’s fault that he wouldn’t have enough, and Tommy being locked in his room was his punishment.

That was fine. Magical ingredients meant visiting Karl, since Karl had the best magical ingredients in the entire market. Visiting Karl wasn’t that fun. Sapnap always leaned against the counter and talked to him for ages, and Karl stared at Tommy in a weirdly intense way that made Tommy feel odd.

So it was fine. Tommy understood his punishment, understood the pained hunger in his stomach and the way he had to sit in his own filth and stench. It was fine.

He didn’t miss the shiny glowing rocks that Karl let him hold, he didn’t miss the bright blue sky and the familiar chill of the frost in the outside air, he didn’t miss Sapnap holding his hand in the busiest sections of the market so he wouldn’t get lost.

It was fine.

George kept trying to teach him more magic. Tommy kept failing.

Dream kept taking away food, and then he started to take away Tommy’s decorations for his room, and other privileges like bath time even though Dream knew Tommy hated being dirty.

Tommy lived for the moments when he could turn the straw into gold. Dream made him promise he would only ever use his magic for Dream, and it was the only time he would hold Tommy close and let Tommy talk to him. It was the only thing that kept his magic a warm bonfire instead of a flickering candle, and Tommy clung to it with a desperation that sometimes scared him.

After four months of living with Dream, Dream started to keep Tommy locked up inside his room at all times, except when Tommy had to come out to turn the straw into gold. George would come to Tommy for his lessons, and Sapnap would give him his meals each day.

George stopped trying to teach him how to fuel magic would other emotions. Instead he would bring Tommy books and toys and sleep for an hour before leaving. Tommy didn’t tell Dream. He didn’t want Dream to know that even George had given up on him.

“This fucking sucks,” Tommy complained to himself, running his fingers through his hair. It felt gross. His hair was greasy and dirty, and he pulled his hands away quickly as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted a bath. He didn’t even care anymore that Dream never gave him bubbles, or that the last time he had taken a bath Dream hadn’t bothered to heat up the water. Tommy was never taking being clean for granted ever again.

He wanted something to do.

His room was bare now, empty of all the decorations and toys Dream had bought for him, since he wasn’t making any progress with his magic. His limit was still two small bags of straw.

It wasn’t exactly fair, since George wasn’t even teaching him anymore, but Tommy still wasn’t willing to reveal that.

The days all started to blur together. Yesterday Sapnap told Tommy that he had been staying with Dream for five full months. It felt like he had been with Dream forever, but at the same time, it felt like he had been at the orphanage yesterday. Time was weird.

“Fuck,” Tommy complained again, kicking his feet. “Bitch. Piss off. Bastard. Asshole -”

“Tommy?”

Tommy sat up quickly, twisting to stare at Dream who was now standing in the doorway. He hadn’t even heard Dream walking to the door, too caught up in saying as many swears as he could remember. For a moment Dream just stared at him, before he smiled and waved for Tommy to follow along. “Come on, let’s go downstairs. I got you a special meal, you can eat while you make more gold,” he suggested.

Something special? Curiosity sparked, and Tommy climbed to his feet and quickly followed Dream down the stairs. “What kind of food is it?” he questioned, fast on Dream’s heels. “Is it sugar?” Sugar was nice. He didn’t get to have it often, it was expensive. “Or spicy??” He didn’t actually like spicy food that much, it felt like it was attacking him, but Tommy was a big man and he would win against any kind of spicy food. “Is it vegetables?” Tommy knew a lot of kids didn’t like vegetables, but he didn’t mind them. He didn’t think they were half as bad as a lot of kids made it out to be. “Or is it -”

“Tommy!” Dream’s voice rose slightly, and Tommy snapped his mouth shut quickly, hunching his shoulders. That was Dream’s angry voice. He didn’t hear it very much anymore, since he wasn’t outside his room to be loud and annoying, but he remembered how it sounded. Dream took a deep breath, and Tommy watched as his shoulders slowly relaxed. “You’ll see in a moment. Stop being irritating, you need to learn how to be patient.”

“Sorry Dream,” Tommy dutifully mumbled, letting Dream lead him into the kitchen.

Dream grabbed something off the counter and pressed it into Tommy’s hands. At first, Tommy only registered that it was an apple, which wasn’t all that interesting, but -

It was a golden apple! Those were really rare! They cost a lot of money, even for just one. They had magical effects. Tommy knew they could heal you, and they gave you a boost of energy for a couple of minutes.

He’d never had a golden apple before, and Dream had gone out of his way to get this for Tommy. Tommy smiled slightly, feeling some of the tension in his body relax. It was fine if he was locked in his room and bored all day. Dream still cared about him, that’s why he was pushing him so hard to get better.

His magic sparked, flames jumping high, whispering homesafegiftsmeanlove.

“What do you say?” Dream questioned, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at Tommy. He sounded annoyed again.

“Thank you,” Tommy quickly spoke, squeezing the golden apple against his chest.

“I shouldn’t have to remind you how to use your manners, you’re not a toddler,” Dream scolded him, gesturing for Tommy to follow. Tommy liked to sit in front of the fire when he used his magic, the warmth from the fire comforting.

As they walked, Tommy took a bite from his apple. It had the perfect amount of crunch, the skin breaking under his teeth. The magic that flooded through his body was different from his own. It felt cool, like a breath of fresh mint, and Tommy shivered at the tingle that raced down his spine as the magic took effect. Already he felt better as sores and aches he hadn’t even noticed faded away.

Tommy licked the juice from his lips as he stopped in front of the fireplace. The two bags of straw were resting on the ledge above the fire, and he reached for them as he held the apple in one hand, his fingers sticky.

He picked up the bag, but his grip was loose and clumsy from his distraction.

The bag slid from his fingers.

The straw went everywhere, half of it falling into the flames, eaten away instantly by heat and fire.

Tommy stared in horror. What? How was his luck that bad? Had someone cursed him with a bad luck spell when he wasn’t looking? Dream was standing right next to him. He had just lost half of their straw. It wasn’t like straw was expensive, but gold was, and the straw was basically gold when Tommy was there, and Dream hated it when Tommy wasted straw, and -

How was his luck that bad? How had he managed to fuck up that badly? Why was he never good enough, why was he never enough?

“I -” Tommy choked on his words, stuttering. Dream wasn’t yelling. Dream hadn’t said a single word. “I’m sorry! I just - I was holding the apple and I wasn’t thinking and my grip slipped and -”

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice broke through his panic, perfectly calm. “It’s fine. It was just an accident.”

Dream hated accidents. “I know, I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

“Accidents happen,” Dream said, reaching and snatching the apple from Tommy’s fingers. Tommy had only taken a single bite out of it, and Dream rolled it in his hands, looking at it for a long moment. “Oops.” With a flick of his wrist, he threw the apple into the fire. “See? An accident.”

There was a lot of smoke, and Tommy flinched away as his eyes started to sting. He made a mistake, and he lost the special treat Dream got for him. That made sense. He could live with that. It was his own fault.

Tommy started to reach for the second bag of straw. He could turn this bag into gold, and Dream would be happy again. He would let Tommy lean up against his side, and hold him close like he always did when Tommy worked his magic. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Dream’s hand wrapped around his wrist. “You can do this bag in your room. You don’t need me there.”

He did. He needed Dream there, or his magic wouldn’t work. Dream knew that, so why he was saying Tommy had to do it by himself? Tommy sucked in a sharp breath and distantly noticed his hands were shaking, something hysterical growing in his throat, choking him. “No, Dream, please.”

“No?” Dream repeated. His grip tightened around Tommy’s wrist. His hand was big compared to Tommy’s wrist, it wrapped all the way around, and his sharp grip was starting to hurt. Tommy tried to pull his hand away but Dream didn’t allow it. Instead, he yanked Tommy hard by his arm so that Tommy stumbled a few steps closer. “Did you just say no to me? After everything I’ve done for you? After all the mistakes and lack of progress that I’ve overlooked?”

“No -” Tommy tried to protest, his mind rebelling as panic stole all of his senses.

Dream hit him.

There was a sharp crack and then Tommy was on the floor, staring up at Dream, bewildered. Dream was standing over him, his hand still balled into a fist as he breathed heavily.

Oh. Dream was really mad, even if he sounded calm.

It took a moment for the pain to register. There was a warm, wet feeling on his face, and Tommy could taste copper in his mouth. He had bitten his tongue, he registered dully. It hurt. His face was stinging and burning, and his vision blurred for a second before refocusing.

He gagged on the blood in his mouth, tears burning in his eyes before falling down his face as his breath hitched into a sob.

The second hit was just as surprising. Dream unfroze, reaching and grabbing Tommy’s shirt to half-drag him up on shaking legs and hit him again. The pain doubled, and Tommy crumbled as soon as Dream let him go, unable to support his own weight as his vision swam and his face and head throbbed with vicious sharp white pain.

Dream was still moving, he was going to hurt him again.

Tommy tried to move back, scrambling on limbs that couldn’t cooperate, and then he was begging. “Dream, no, please I’m so sorry, please stop hurting me, it was an accident I won’t do it again, please -” Dream dropped the second bag of straw in his lap. He wasn’t going to hurt Tommy anymore. It was over.

Tommy couldn’t stop begging. “Pleasepleaseplease,” he choked, “please -”

“Go to your room,” Dream ordered. His hands were still balled into fists. He was shaking.

Tommy’s face felt wet and gross, and he felt sore and the pain wasn’t stopping. He grabbed the bag in his shaking hands, soft pleases still falling from his mouth even as he stumbled to his feet. The world was swimming around him, moving oddly. He felt shocked. He felt scared. He felt confused. He didn't know how he felt.

He didn’t know how he got to his room, but somehow he did, and the door was locked behind him.

“Please,” he continued to plead, alone, curling up on the ground with the bag of straw still held in his lap. “Please, please -”

The bonfire in his chest seared higher than it had ever been before, and magic flowed from his fingers freely as he reached for the straw. “Please. Please. Please.”

Fear, his magic whispered, shakenpanickedfrightened.

The straw twisted into golden strands under his hands.

When Dream was really, really mad, he acted calm instead.

It was a lesson Tommy made sure to remember.

When George came in to (pretend to) train him, he stared at the swollen, bloody bruises on Tommy’s face for what seemed like an eternity.“George?” Tommy finally asked, and his voice seemed to knock George out of whatever trance he had fallen under.

“Did Dream do that?” he asked, sitting down like he always did, sliding a new puzzle across the floor towards Tommy.

Tommy hesitated, and then he nodded. What would be the point of lying? He just hoped George wasn’t going to ask why. He didn’t want George to know how much money Tommy had cost them. He didn’t want George to stop visiting him entirely, to stop bringing him things to do to keep him busy.

George nodded, and then settled down for his nap.

Sapnap stared at his bruise and asked the same question when he dropped off lunch. Tommy gave him the same answer.

Another month passed. George stopped visiting. He didn’t need to teach Tommy how to power his magic with anger anymore - Tommy’s fear worked just as well, if not better, and Dream was delighted by the turn of events.

Tommy got used to the feeling of bruises on his skin.

Sapnap still visited him to drop off his food. He started to bring puzzles and games since George couldn’t anymore, and he would sit with Tommy while he ate and talk to him in a soft voice.

Tommy was fine, because he had a family.

There was someone in their house that Tommy didn’t know.

He could hear the voice from his room, but only barely. Whoever it was they spoke softly, and Tommy was unable to make out any actual words. Dream spoke a bit louder, and Tommy caught a few words from him.

“ - right now?”

“ - no warning -”

“ - a day or two -”

“ - understand, but -”

It grew sharper. Tommy knew that was Dream’s annoyed voice, and he found himself shivering and curling up into himself, even though Dream wasn’t anywhere close by. Dream couldn’t hit him through a door. Dream wouldn’t hit him right now anyways. Tommy hadn’t done anything wrong.

“ - my respect.”

“ - I would never dare -”

“Fine.”

“ - get Tommy.”

Tommy stood and moved away from the door quickly at the sound of his own name, trying to straighten his clothes. He had been curious about whoever had come to see them, but he hadn’t expected Dream to actually introduce him. Dream hadn’t let Tommy see anyone other than him and Sapnap all month. He felt nervous and anxious, and it made his stomach hurt.

What was going on? Tommy liked his routine, he liked knowing what to expect. He had no idea what would make this stranger angry, he had no idea how to act. He didn’t know what Dream wanted from him. Dream had called him his little brother a few days ago. Tommy didn’t want him to change his mind.

Footsteps approached his door quickly, and then Dream was stepping into his room. He looked stressed, and Tommy instinctively stepped back and hunched his shoulders, trying to look smaller.

Dream ran his hand through his hair, staring down at Tommy. “You’re filthy,” he snapped, “don’t you have any clean clothes to change into?”

This shirt had blood stained onto its sleeves and around the neckline, but Tommy shook his head. All his outfits were dirty, Dream hadn’t bothered cleaning them in a while.

“Fuck,” Dream cursed. He vanished from the doorway.

Tommy swallowed, staring at the door as Dream didn’t reappear. Dream never left the door open. Was Tommy meant to follow him? He hadn’t been told to follow. After a moment Tommy hesitantly crept closer to the doorway, intending to quickly peek out. Maybe it would give him a clue.

Before he could, Dream was back, throwing a shirt at him. It was much larger than Tommy’s clothing, considering it belonged to Dream. It was a dark green tunic. “Wear this,” Dream ordered, glancing over his shoulder. “Hurry up. Wipe your face off with your old shirt, and get all the blood off.”

Tommy quickly did as ordered, wiping the dry blood off his face and pulling the tunic over his head. It was long on him, falling to his knees, but it was soft and warm and smelled like Dream. “Thank you,” Tommy said, trying his best to be polite as he folded his fingers into the fabric.

Sometimes Dream would say something nice to him when Tommy remembered to be polite, give him a pat on the head or a small smile. This time he said nothing. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair and shifted his weight a few times before cursing and holding out a hand. “Hold my hand. Tommy, listen. I adopted you from an orphanage outside of the empire six months ago, and you’ve been my little brother ever since. We spend a lot of time together, and we get along well. I would never yell at you, or hurt you. You turn straw into gold because you love me and want to help me, and you told me you inherited it from your parents. I didn’t know where it was coming from.”

“What?” Tommy questioned, confused.

Dream’s fingers dug into his hand. “Repeat it back to me.”

“Uh - we - you got me from the orphanage six months ago,” Tommy hurried to speak, “and I’m your little brother. We spend a lot of time together, and we like each other a lot.”

“Love each other.”

Tommy flinched. “We love each other a lot. Which means you won’t yell at me or hurt me. I made you the gold because I love you, but I didn’t tell you that. I told you my parents gave it to me.”

Dream brought Tommy downstairs.

There was a stranger in their home.

They were tall with dark brown hair that went down to their shoulders in a mild wave. They were wearing a white shirt and a corset, and a dark blue cape with golden trim was around their shoulders. It was the color of the Antarctic Empire. They also had entirely white eyes which they used to stare at Tommy for a moment.

Then they smiled. It was a soft, gentle smile, just like the smile that Dream gave him when Tommy used magic. “Hello little one,” they greeted, crouching down to his level. Tommy had to fight the sudden urge to move and hide behind Dream. “What’s your name?”

“Uh…” Tommy’s free hand dug into his new tunic again, twisting the fabric there nervously. He still didn't understand what was happening. “Tommy.”

“It’s nice to meet you Tommy. My name is Eret. I work for his Majesty Philza.” Tommy’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help the way his mouth fell open. Eret worked for the Emperor? Why were they in Dream’s home? Why would they be talking to Tommy? Eret laughed, but it didn’t sound like a mean laugh. It was just as gentle as their voice. “I know right,” they agreed in a whisper, as though they were just as surprised by their employment.

Dream’s hand squeezed his tightly, and Tommy quickly remembered his manners. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he forced out, still entirely lost.

Eret’s smile widened. “I’m glad. You know, his Majesty is very interested in talking to Dream, so Dream’s been asked to come and visit. Since we don’t want you to have to stay home all alone, you get to come along as well. Have you ever seen his Majesty’s castle before?”

“Um. One time. At a festival.” His parents had taken him. They had to travel for an entire day and stay at an inn for a night, but it was still one of Tommy’s favorite memories.

“Did you have fun?”

Tommy nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. You’ll get to see it even closer this time, you’ll get to go inside the castle,” Eret shared with him. Tommy wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Of course it was exciting since it was a fucking castle, but it sounded a bit stressful to have to see the imperial family. What if he messed up his manners? What if they got mad at him?

The empire was a great place to live, but even Tommy had heard certain things about the imperial family. Everyone knew they could be really violent towards their enemies, more violent than most people felt safe discussing. What if Tommy became an enemy because of his bad manners?

Eret must have noticed Tommy’s darkening mood, because they added, “it will be fine. They just want to talk to Dream.”

Tommy nodded, slowly. All he had to do was stand there and stay quiet. He could do that. Eret seemed to be done with their conversation because they straightened back up. “Are you ready to go?” they asked, looking at Dream.

Dream nodded, and they headed towards the door. Dream picked up a satchel that was beside the doorway, slinging it over his shoulder without letting go of Tommy’s hand.

For the first time in months, Tommy stepped outside and looked up at the sun.

Chapter Text

The journey to the castle felt oddly tense. Sapnap and George had come with Tommy and Dream, and the four of them were all sitting in the carriage while Eret sat up at the front of the carriage with the coachmen. There was no conversation; Dream had let go of Tommy’s hand once they entered the carriage and sat next to George, who was dozing off. Sapnap had been the one to sit next to Tommy, and he offered Tommy a small smile when the two made eye contact.

It didn’t make Tommy feel much better. He could see from the look in his eyes that Sapnap was nervous; though he wasn’t as nervous as Dream, who had a dark scowl on his face and stared out the window without looking anywhere else once.

He tried to distract himself by repeating the story Dream had told him over and over again in his head, so he wouldn’t make any mistakes if anyone asked him. It was mostly true, other than some small details. The orphanage Dream took Tommy from hadn’t been outside of the Empire; it had been within it. Tommy didn’t spend a lot of time with Dream, because Dream was very busy. Tommy had always been truthful about where the gold was coming from; he hadn’t lied about it, even if Dream wanted him to say that he had.

Reminding himself of those facts over and over again was all Tommy could do, as he looked out the window and watched the icy winter lands around them go by. At one point, he spotted two arctic foxes traveling together, which did make the trip just a little bit better. Animals could improve any situation.

Hours must have passed by the time the carriage slowed to a stop, but Tommy didn’t pay it much mind. He’d done a good job learning patience since he was in his room for so many long, boring hours, and this trip was more interesting than that at least.

When the carriage stopped, the coachmen came to the door to help them get down. Eret came with him, offering Tommy a small smile as Tommy took the coachmen’s hand and carefully hopped down from the carriage.

“Hopefully the ride wasn’t too boring,” Eret commented, their attention focused on Tommy.

Now that they had left the carriage, Dream stepped close to grab Tommy’s hand again in a tight grip. “Oh, he kept himself busy looking out the window,” he answered for Tommy, in a cheerful voice. “Got distracted by some foxes, didn’t you, Tommy?”

Tommy looked up at Dream with a slight blush. So Dream had been paying attention to him then, even if Tommy hadn’t realized it. He nodded shyly in response to Dream’s question, and Dream smiled down at him, so he must have done something right.

Eret laughed, and turned away, gesturing for them to follow behind them. Dream was quick to pull Tommy along, George still at his other side while Sapnap walked a bit behind. Tommy twisted in Dream’s grip to look back and wave at the coachmen. That was good manners, right? He should have said thank you too, but he’d forgotten, and now he was too far away to yell it. The coachmen saw him waving and waved back though, so that would have to be good enough.

Dream tugged him, and Tommy stumbled slightly. “Look ahead.” Dream’s voice sounded soft, kind, almost, but Tommy had been with him long enough to hear the undercurrent of annoyance and straighten up in response.

No longer distracted, Tommy got his first close-up look at the castle, and his mouth fell open in shock. It was huge! It towered far, far above, reaching into the clouds. Tommy had never seen something so big before, the castle had always looked tiny from a distance. It was pretty, too, with tall spires and dark deepslate tiles and bricks making up most of its surface.

There were also all sorts of interesting people wandering around; servants in clean uniforms hurrying from one place to another, and knights! They wore gleaming netherite armor and carried weapons on their waists or back; some of them had swords, while others had axes, bows, or crossbows. Tommy saw them guarding the entrance, and there was also a big group of them out in front of the castle training.

He wanted to learn how to use a weapon like that one day. He would be a powerful warrior sorcerer, and no one would be able to stand up to him! Then he could get Dream everything he wanted, and they could keep being a family. Maybe it could even go back to how it was when Dream first adopted him. If Dream had everything he wanted, he wouldn’t be busy, after all.

They walked up to the front gates, and the knights there greeted Eret with smiles and polite greetings. Eret greeted them in kind, smiling once more. “I have an audience with his Majesty,” Eret commented, straightening their fancy clothing. “Do you know if he’s busy, at the moment?”

“No one external has come to see him,” one of the knights shrugged, and Eret nodded like that answered their question.

“Let’s continue,” Eret commented towards Dream, who nodded too and tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand even more. It was starting to hurt a little, but Tommy didn’t dare complain.

If the outside of the castle seemed grand, the inside just continued to add to that initial impression. Everywhere Tommy looked, something grabbed his attention; wide, open windows with thick, intricate drapes, suits of armor, big, old-looking paintings, a high ceiling with magical lights zipping all around, the dense carpet beneath their feet, in the shades of blue that the Antarctic Empire boasted of…

It was enough to keep him distracted as they walked through the hallways, his mouth slightly parted and his head turning in every direction. He felt dirty in a place like this, all too aware of how Dream’s tunic was hanging down to his knees, of how his hair was oily and filthy with dirt and dry blood, of how he must smell. It made him want to find a dark corner in this large, magnificent place, and curl up there, hidden and safe.

That wasn’t an option though, and too soon they were in front of the largest doors Tommy had ever seen. Eret whispered to the guards there for a moment, while Dream, Tommy, Sapnap, and George hung back a few steps. Tommy couldn’t help but squirm slightly, squeezing his free hand into the fabric of his tunic. The flame in his chest was flickering widely; waking up from his fear.

“His Majesty and his Imperial Highnesses will greet you now,” Eret commented finally, turning back to face them for a moment before pushing the large doors open.

Tommy wanted to run off and find that dark corner. He wanted to hide behind Dream, he wanted Sapnap to pick him up, he wanted to close his eyes and pretend to be anywhere else but where he was.

The carpet continued into the room, stopping in front of three thrones as they stepped forwards. In the center was someone who could only be His Majesty Philza. He was terrifying, even just from the brief glimpse Tommy got before he quickly looked downwards. The Emperor was a man with a huge pair of dark, black wings that looked like they could be made out of smoke. He wore clothing in Antarctica blues, with heavy furs and gemstones decorating his body. On his head sat a crown of gold, gleaming.

The worst was his eyes. Cold, icy blue, a gaze that pierced through anyone who dared to meet his gaze.

The group stopped closer to the throne, and Dream let go of Tommy’s hand. Tommy wanted to whine at the loss, but he bit the childish reaction back. Dream was touching him a second later anyways - placing his hand on Tommy’s shoulder to push him down. Tommy stumbled into a clumsy kneel at Dream’s direction, hoping he was doing this correctly.

“Your Majesty,” Eret spoke. Their voice was different - soft and reverent, full of nothing but respect. “I have brought before you Dream Taken and his associates, as well as their child, Tommy Innit.”

“Thank you, advisor.” Philza’s voice was just as cold as his gaze. He paused for a moment, and the silence felt as though it were digging into Tommy’s head. Then, “you may rise.”

Dream let go of his shoulders, and Tommy rose to his feet, just as clumsily as he went down. He dared to take another peek. The Emperor wasn’t looking at him, which made things easier, and Tommy got a glimpse at the other thrones this time. The other thrones were where Philza’s two sons sat, the twin princes.

Like their father, neither twin was human. That much was clear from the way their ears sloped to the side in points, by the pointed white tusks that rose from their lower lips to be visible. One of the twins had long, bright pink hair, an unnatural tone. The other had shorter, brown hair, but Tommy could make out pink strands at the top of his head. Both of them were wearing fancy clothes like their father, and had just as much gold on them, if not more. They had gold piercings, necklaces, their own crowns, bracelets… it was almost too much to just look at them.

Philza’s voice broke Tommy from his captivation, and Tommy looked down at his feet again. “Tell me, do you know why I’ve brought you here?”

“I believe so, your Majesty.” Dream’s voice was slick in a way Tommy had never heard before, with the same odd echoes of reverence that Eret had spoken with. “I believe you’ve summoned us here today to question us about the gold.”

“Is it not concerning, how much gold you’ve suddenly found yourself in possession of?” Philza’s voice was so quiet, so calm, but something was there, lurking under his voice. “Gold is the prized substance of my Empire, and you’ve been overwhelming the market with staggering amounts of it.”

“I understand. You are truly a dutiful Emperor to take concern with such a matter. I have an explanation.” Dream placed his hand on Tommy’s shoulders again, and pulled him in front of him. Tommy tensed up and peeked upwards. This time, Philza was looking at him, and Tommy snapped his gaze back down quickly. His heart was beating quickly in his chest now, a frantic race.

“I’ve heard your claims about the child. You say he has the power to create gold, from nothing but straw.”

“It’s true, your Majesty. I had no idea where it was coming from. Tommy told me it was an inheritance left over from his parents, otherwise, I never would have dared to spend any of it. I know magic such as this clearly needs to be reported to you.”

“Is this true?”

There was a long silence; long enough for Tommy to wonder why Dream wasn’t answering, then Dream suddenly dug his fingers hard into Tommy’s shoulder, and Tommy realized it was his turn to answer now. It took an effort to raise his gaze. Even then, he could only make himself stare somewhere at Philza’s chest. “Um, yes. Your … Majesty.”

“Your parents weren’t nobles. They were commoners, killed by a thief.” Tommy flinched, as though struck. How did the Emperor know this? “How would they come into possession of such a fortune? They were nothing.”

Tommy could feel Dream’s chest start to move behind him, as though he were about to speak, but Tommy couldn’t stop himself from interrupting; from defending his parents, from defending bubble baths and cinnamon on his toast and warm magic on his body. “My parents weren’t nothing! They had magic, just like me!”

He knew the second he spoke that it was the wrong thing to say. Dream had taught him how to stay quiet and keep his thoughts to himself, and Tommy could, normally. In front of such a terrifying figure, certainly. But if there was one subject Tommy was always going to speak up on, it was the subject concerning his parents. He loved them, foolishly, even after all this time.

“Emperor -” Sapnap was speaking for the first time, stepping forward “- please forgive him, he’s still grieving their loss -”

Eret’s hand shot up in front of Sapnap, preventing him from stepping any closer. “Please maintain a respectful distance from the Imperial family,” Eret intoned, and Tommy winced.

Now he was getting Sapnap in trouble for trying to help him. Regret was starting to trickle into his chest, even as he still knew he wouldn’t - couldn’t - do anything differently.

“I am not the type of man to be so easily offended by a child,” Philza spoke. Tommy was actually a bit offended himself now, but he could see Sapnap relax from the corner of his eyes, so he bit back any huffy complaint about how he wasn’t a little kid, thank you very much. “His parents had magic? They must have kept it hidden…”

As the Emperor seemed to muse to himself, they all stayed quiet.

Finally, after a long moment, Philza spoke up again. “I will need to verify your claims for myself. The child - Tommy - will remain here. I will give him three days to spin a room of straw into gold. You will return when those three days are up.”

No. There was no way Dream was going to leave him there, right? Despite everything, they were family.

But then Dream was releasing his shoulders, and stepping away. Tommy turned at the same time, raising his gaze from the floor to stare up at Dream with a wide-eyed gaze. “Dream?” he questioned out loud, the quiet plead slipping out before he could bite it down.

“I’ll be back in three days,” Dream responded; his words a promise. Tommy couldn’t see his expression behind his mask, but Dream was looking down at him, his gaze unmoving.

“But - you -”

“Tommy. Be good, okay?”

That was it? That couldn’t be it. Tommy looked at George and Sapnap, as though hoping they could talk some sense into Dream. George was avoiding eye contact, gazing somewhere off in the distance. Sapnap, on the other hand, was looking at him. There was something conflicted in his gaze, the hard curl to his mouth… but there was also something resolute in his shoulders, as he squared them and then looked away too.

Reality settled into place. These people, the ones who had taken him in, the ones he considered his family… were all leaving him. Sure, it was due to the orders of the Imperial family, so could Tommy really be mad?

He had the feeling his parents wouldn’t have left him, no matter who it was that ordered them to do so.

A hand settled on his shoulder. Tommy flinched at the sudden touch, and he was swiftly released - a quick glance revealed the one who touched him was Eret. The ‘advisor,’ as Philza had called him earlier, had a small, sad smile on their face. “It’s okay, Tommy,” they promised, crouching down to his height. “We’ll take care of you, okay? How about I show you to the room with the straw in it?”

As Eret led Tommy away, he tried to look back at Dream, but h e was already gone.

The room full of straw was - unsurprisingly - full of bags of straw. Tommy sat on the small bed in the corner of the room, curling his legs under his body with a small sigh. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, so he flopped onto his side lazily, stretching. Eret had left him there only a few minutes ago, promising to return in an hour or so with lunch.

He couldn’t turn the straw into gold.

Or, it would be more accurate to say he wouldn’t. Dream had made him promise to only turn straw into gold when it was for Dream. This would be going right into the pockets of the Emperor. Therefore, he wasn’t supposed to do it. Dream had promised to come back for him in three days, so Tommy had to be really good for those three days, to ensure that Dream would actually come back for him.

He definitely would, right? He had said he would. They were family. If Tommy wasn’t with Dream, then Dream wouldn’t have anyone to make his gold anyways!

“He’s coming back,” Tommy insisted out loud, rolling onto his back and kicking his feet into the air. He’d learned how to spend a lot of time inside one room, bored out of his mind. Three days wouldn’t be anything in comparison.

He closed his eyes. “He’s coming back.”

Eret returned with food as promised. They even sat with Tommy while he ate, asking him questions about all sorts of things - like Tommy’s favorite color, his favorite animal, and his favorite game. Tommy responded eagerly, figuring questions like those couldn’t hurt. Eret wasn’t questioning his past with Dream or anything about his magic like Tommy figured he might.

Instead, they spent what must have been at least an hour talking about cows and foxes, before Eret apologized, saying they had to go and do their work, and promising to return later with dinner.

“Do you want any toys? Or books?” Eret had even asked, glancing around the room with a small frown. Their gaze passed over the bags of straw, untouched, without a lingering look or comment.

Tommy hadn’t known that was an option. “Did I do something good?” he questioned, dubious. He wasn’t sure why Eret would be rewarding him when Tommy hadn’t even started on the one task he had been given.

Eret seemed surprised by the question though, turning their gaze back to Tommy with a small frown. “You don’t have to do anything to get toys,” they insisted, only looking more upset at Tommy’s bewildered look. Even back in the orphanage, toys had been a privilege. “I’ll bring some with me when I bring dinner,” they decided.

Tommy nodded. He wasn’t sure what else to do.

He expected to wait in the empty room until Eret returned with dinner, already growing adjusted to this odd routine he’d be following until Dream came back for him. Some of the panic was starting to fade away. If all he had to deal with was a mostly empty room, then there wasn’t anything to be afraid of.

Naturally, that’s when the world decided to prove him wrong. The door to his room opened nearly silently, and when Tommy twisted to look, it wasn’t Eret who was stepping in.

It wasn’t a stranger either, and there was some relief that it wasn’t Philza, but the twin princes weren’t exactly someone Tommy wanted to see. The twin with the short, brown hair, entered the room with a wry smile on his face, his arms crossed in front of him. Every part of his stance screamed confidence as he looked over the room, strutting closer to Tommy with a curious look.

In response, Tommy scrambled backward so his back was flush against the wall. He could feel the way his heart beat in his chest, his magic stirring under his skin in response to the fear and adrenaline beginning to flood his system.

The other twin was hanging back more. He only just stepped into the room, lingering at the doorway to lean against the wall instead. One arm was crossed over his chest while the other arm fiddled with a golden necklace around his neck, his blood red eyes focused on Tommy in an almost lazy, but still predatory, manner.

“Uh -” Tommy stuttered out a harsh breath, the tension in his shoulders growing as the first twin continued to approach, only pausing at the edge of the bed.

“You can’t really turn straw into gold, can you?” he asked. His voice was sharp, cutting through the room with the precision of a well-wielded knife. “The Emperor doesn’t believe you can, and he’s usually correct.”

Oh. They still thought Dream was lying. Which, Dream was lying, but not about Tommy’s abilities. Should Tommy try to convince them? It wasn’t like he intended to transform the straw anyways. In the end, Tommy only stayed quiet, looking away to avoid eye contact.

It seemed like the prince took that as an answer, laughing out loud. The sound was slightly cold. “I thought so,” he scoffed. “Tech said there was a chance, but…”

Tech? Tommy peeked back at them both from the corner of his eyes, looking at the pink-haired twin this time. Was his name ‘Tech?’

There was another pause, and the first twin sighed. “I know you can talk. Are you so afraid of us that you’re no longer able?” he wondered.

Tommy huffed, pushing air into his cheeks. “I’m not scared,” he snapped before he could draw the words back into his chest. He was scared, a little, but there were other people he was more afraid of. Trying to prove his words, Tommy shuffled forwards on the bed a bit, so his back was no longer pressed against the wall.

He was mostly just nervous because he didn’t know what they wanted, anyways, so - “What do you want from me?”

The first twin was smiling again, his tusks gleaming in the dull light of the room. “To meet you. Everything in this place gets boring after a while, and the Emperor’s never set up this type of challenge before…” He trailed off, looking around the room again. “It’s going to be a boring time for you, though.”

“I don’t care,” Tommy said, truthfully. “I’m not a baby, I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? How old are you? Five?”

“No!” Tommy’s reply was a loud squawk. The lingering fear he did feel was retreating as the prince kept pushing his buttons, and he subconsciously moved closer to the prince, squaring his shoulders and giving him a fearsome glare. “I’m seven whole years!”

“Ooh, seven? You’re tiny for a seven-year-old -”

“No, I’m not!” In a quick motion, Tommy got to his feet, wobbling slightly on the soft bed. Standing like this, he was taller than the prince, and he stared down at him with a triumphant look.

With a smirk, the prince swiped at his legs. The sudden strike wasn’t painful, but it was enough to break his already wobbly stance, and Tommy started to fall with a yelp. He hadn’t expected the prince to actually try to hurt him, and he squeezed his eyes shut and brought his arms up to cover his head before he could hit the floor.

Arms wrapped around him, catching him before he could.

Tommy slowly peeked between his hands before lowering them. The red eyes staring into his own didn’t feel so scary and cruel now. They felt mischievous, full of the same energy that used to send Tommy running around his home and shrieking with laughter as his parents chased him.

“Want to get out of here?” the prince questioned, his smile widening.

Tommy glanced at the door. The twin that had yet to speak or approach was watching him with a considering expression, but still, there was no anger or disgust like Tommy feared there might be.

Tommy nodded, hesitantly. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.”

The prince that had caught him was named Wilbur. Tommy awkwardly tried to figure out what title he was meant to put in front of his name, but Wilbur only shook his head and told him he could call him whatever he’d like, so Tommy called him Wilbitch as a test. Wilbur laughed, and Tommy switched to calling him Wil, and he didn’t complain once, so that’s what Tommy stuck with.

The other prince was called Technoblade, or Techno, or Tech. He didn’t tell Tommy that he could call him anything he wanted, but he didn’t complain when Tommy quickly nicknamed him Blade, so Tommy stuck with it anyways.

“Where to?” Wilbur asked him, holding his hand as he led Tommy through the halls, walking at Tommy’s slow pace without a word of complaint. Now that both twins were standing, Tommy could make out the long, pink tails they had, tipped with pink fluff. He stared at them in open curiosity, but neither seemed to take notice.

“Umm…” What kind of things did a castle like this have? “Dragon?”

“We don’t have any dragons at the moment,” Wilbur responded, his voice apologetic and his eyes sparkling with mirth, “but I’ll let my father know to order one here right away. In the meantime… we have horses?”

Wilbur made the suggestion, but he wasn’t looking at Tommy. He was looking at Technoblade instead, as though he wished to check in with him with this particular suggestion. Technoblade hesitated for a moment, before nodding slowly. “You need to be gentle with them,” he warned Tommy. “You can’t spook them.”

“I love animals!” Tommy was always gentle. When he saw stray cats, he called to them with soft noises and wiggling fingers, and he always pet them gently from their head to their back. They never complained. They loved his attention. Honestly, Tommy would go as far as to say he was the best animal caretaker in the entire kingdom. The horses would love him too.

Horses. Horses! Tommy was almost jumping in excitement. Sure there had been horses pulling the carriage on the way there, but Tommy hadn’t been allowed to pet them. It had been a very serious moment, so Tommy had to take it very seriously like everyone around him had been. Surely if they were going to visit the horses just for the sake of visiting them, this time Tommy would be allowed to pet them very gently just like he petted cats, and they would love him too.

“Just be gentle,” Technoblade replied, as though Tommy hadn’t been listening to him the first time. Though he sounded reluctant, the twins seemed to adjust their direction from randomly wandering to walking with a purpose, so Tommy didn’t bother defending himself. There wasn’t much point, no one ever believed him when he tried anyways.

As they walked, Tommy was planning to do his best to stay quiet and be un-ob-tru-sive just like Dream had been teaching him, but Wilbur seemed intent to continue talking to him and dragging him into conversations. Technoblade’s silence was more familiar, against Wilbur’s cheerful smirk and long words. Could Wilbur want something from him? He didn’t believe Tommy could turn straw into gold, so there was nothing useful Tommy could offer him.

“So,” Wilbur said anyways, “what’s it like living with Dream? He’s been a pain in Father’s neck for a while now.”

Dream had been making the Emperor upset for a while? Tommy’s throat suddenly felt dry, and it was hard for him to swallow. “Um… I love Dream,” Tommy dutifully responded after he managed to get his thoughts somewhat together again. “Dream took me in, and he’s my family now.”

“So he’s not a pain to live with?”

Pain. Tommy grimaced. Dream brought pain in a very real sense, whenever Tommy made a mistake. “Dream loves me.”

“That’s not exactly an answer…” Wilbur’s words had been lazy and curious, but they sharpened now, and the look he gave Tommy was more intense. Still, Tommy had decided those red eyes of his weren’t scary, so he just stared back with a small scowl.

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Wilbur,” Technoblade interrupted, sounding somewhat exasperated, “please stop fighting with the five-year-old.”

“I’m seven!” Tommy protested as Wilbur laughed. His hand was warm where it still held onto Tommy’s, and it shifted as he laughed, his fingers squeezing Tommy’s lightly.

“Right,” Technoblade drawled, “much more mature than Wilbur, then.”

Tommy nodded in agreement, and it was Wilbur’s turn to protest. Still, Technoblade’s interruption steered the conversation away from Dream, and Tommy felt some of the tension fading from his shoulders. He could swallow normally again. Now, Wilbur started rambling on about music and a new instrument the Emperor had bought for him.

Soon enough, they were leaving the huge castle and heading outside onto the grounds, making it to the stables without any further incident.

The stables were big, like everything else in the castle. As Technoblade led their small group inside, Tommy saw it was well kept too, much cleaner than any small stables he had seen in the past, full of muck and old straw. Being within the stables brought relief from the cold sharp wind outside, though there was still a chill in the air.

Those things only kept Tommy distracted for a second, as he soon focused on the horses all lined up in their stalls. He let go of Wilbur’s hand to dash quickly to the nearest stall, staring up at the horse with a slightly parted mouth. “It’s missing an eye!”

“She’s a rescue.” Technoblade caught up with him, standing by his side. The prince reached forward to run his hand down the side of the horse's neck, and she let him do so without complaint. “She’s very friendly, even if you stand on her blind side.”

The space where the horse's left eye should have been was just an empty hole. There wasn’t even a scar around the space where her eye used to rest. It was like it had just been scooped directly out of her head! “How did her eye fall out?”

“It didn’t fall out, it was removed because it became infected. When we found her, her eye had already been infected, so we can only guess when it comes to the actual cause,” Technoblade explained. Tommy was pretty sure it was the most Technoblade had spoken directly to him since they’d left his room. “It may have been an injury left untreated, a fungal infection, or even a parasite.”

Tommy tensed slightly, taking a small step away from the calm horse. He wasn’t afraid of anything, but - “A parasite? What if it’s still in her? Does it like human eyes too?”

Before Technoblade could reply, Wilbur swept up behind him, placing his hands suddenly on Tommy’s shoulders and making him jump. Tommy tilted his head back to glare up at the prince for a second as his heart thudded in his chest. “It could be,” Wilbur agreed, grinning widely at Tommy’s glare. “Maybe it likes the eyes of little human boys, I wouldn’t stand too close if I were you -”

“We have servants who check the horses regularly,” Technoblade interrupted before Tommy’s heart could beat any harder. “She doesn’t have any parasites. Even if she did, the type of parasites that would infest her wouldn’t be as interested in humans.”

“You’re a liar,” Tommy informed Wilbur with a scowl, slinking closer to Technoblade. “The Blade is way cooler than you!” He wouldn’t speak that way to Dream, ever, but Wilbur seemed to like it the most when Tommy actually spoke his mind. Even when he acted all dramatic like he was doing now, looking mockingly offended and placing a hand over his heart.

Before he could try to drag Tommy into more dramatics, Tommy turned his back to Wilbur and pushed himself up on his toes so he’d be a bit taller. He reached carefully, running his hand down the side of the horse's neck like Technoblade had been. The short, brown fur was soft under his hand, and she still didn’t seem too bothered by all the attention.

A few minutes passed like this, Tommy staying focused on the one-eyed horse and bickering with Wilbur as he continued to pet her. She may not be a dragon, but she was just as cool as one. Tommy would have been content to stay with her for hours if he could, but Technoblade cleared his throat and grabbed Tommy’s shoulder to steer him deeper into the rows of stalls without warning. “You can meet my horse, too,” he stated. “Carl.”

“Really?” Wilbur sounded surprised, even as excitement once again welled up in Tommy’s chest. The horse of a prince must be a big, strong horse!

“He was gentle,” Technoblade replied, shrugging his shoulders in a loose motion.

Hah! Tommy told them he knew how to be gentle, and now they had been forced to admit he’d been right all along.

Carl ended up being a big brown horse, with a white stripe right between his eyes going down to his nose; and when they made it to his stall, they didn’t just stand outside to pet him. Technoblade opened the stall and let Tommy go in first, which let Tommy admire the way Carl had white on his legs too - it looked like he had white socks on!

“Here,” Technoblade said, grabbing a brush from the back of the stall and sticking it into Tommy’s hand. Tommy grasped it tightly, running his free hand over the bristles, which felt strong and rough. “You can brush him with this. Just make sure to brush from front to back, and don’t be too rough.”

Tommy nodded eagerly. He had been so scared entering the castle, but not even a day had gone by, and he was having more fun than he’d had in months. It wouldn’t last - not that he wanted it to, he missed Dream, his family - but he could do his best to enjoy it now. As Tommy followed the directions, carefully brushing Carl as instructed, Technoblade was watching with a heavy stare. It felt like his eyes were digging into Tommy’s skin.

As he continued to brush Carl, the stare seemed to lose some of its intensity, and Tommy inwardly preened. Once more, he’d proven how great he was with animals! Maybe when this was over, they would ask him to come back and work with their animals once Tommy was a bit taller. Maybe Tommy would even agree, it seemed like a nice job to have once he was an adult and needed to worry about those types of things.

As long as Dream would allow it.

Why wouldn’t he? Dream loved money, and Tommy would get paid if he had a job.

Wilbur moved into the stall as well, standing on the other side of Carl and idly running a hand down the side of his neck as he watched Tommy and Technoblade. He had finally fallen quiet, but it wasn’t a tense quiet like the type with Dream, when Tommy was afraid to make a single noise.

It was… nice.

"We have a lesson.” Technoblade’s words almost sounded apologetic as he put the brush away and led Tommy and Wilbur out of the stall in order to lock it. Tommy knew he was pouting, but he bit his tongue lightly and didn’t whine or complain; so he wasn’t sure why Technoblade looked a bit uncomfortable as he glanced at Tommy.

Wilbur grabbed his hand again, as he had on the way there, holding it in a vice grip. “We should sneak Tommy into our lesson,” he announced, grinning over Tommy’s head at Technoblade.

The words surprised Tommy, even as Technoblade just fixed Wilbur with a clearly exasperated stare. He’d fully expected them to stick him back in his room now and forget about him - surely their interest would fade when they realized he didn’t have anything to offer them. Still, it seemed like that hadn’t happened yet.

“What kind of lesson do you have?” Tommy asked, curious. The only lessons he ever had were magic lessons, and George had given up on him forever ago when it came to that.

“All kinds of boring things,” Wilbur complained, ignoring Technoblade’s stare and pulling Tommy back to the entrance of the stables. “Foreign language, diplomatics, economics, religion, sociology, history… we have dance and horseback riding and combat training too, but none of that would be in a classroom.”

Tommy pouted once more; he wished they had combat training today, that would be much more fun to watch instead of whatever eco-no-mics was.

“History today,” Technoblade spoke up, calmly. “Do you think you would be interested in history?”

“Stop trying to convince him not to come with us,” Wilbur sighed, turning his head to glare back at Technoblade. His grip on Tommy’s hand tightened, but it still wasn’t enough to hurt. It felt like a good kind of pressure. “Tommy will only be around for a few days, so we might as well make the most out of it.”

“If our professor sees him, then this will all be reported to Father.”

“As if he doesn’t already know, the guards watch our every moment,” Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Besides, Tommy will just have to stay out of sight.”

“I’m really good at being quiet!” Tommy chimed in, hopping a small step.

“See? He’s very good at being quiet,” Wilbur repeated, his smile just as sharp as the icicles that grew everywhere.

Technoblade didn’t exactly agree, but he didn’t argue either, which seemed to be enough for Wilbur. It seemed like Wilbur wanted him around, but Technoblade didn’t, which was… fine. Tommy thought Technoblade was cool, but clearly, the Blade couldn’t recognize that Tommy was just as cool as he was. That was his loss.

Wilbur was right anyways, Tommy would only be around for a few days, so it’s not like it mattered.

Staying hidden meant that Tommy had to hide under the desk that Wilbur and Technoblade shared, while the Professor talked on and on and on about the founding of the Empire, using lots of names that Tommy didn’t know and lots of big words that he didn’t understand.

Tommy wasn’t even tired, but he ended up leaning his entire weight on the twins without even noticing. His side and arm were pressed against Wilbur’s leg, and his head was half in Technoblade’s lap as he dozed, the world feeling far away and blurry.

Time moved oddly, but there was no fear of rest. It wasn’t like Dream could barge into his room at any moment, making demands and hurting him when Tommy didn’t comply.

It felt more like those times with his parents, quiet moments when Tommy was sleepy and their arms were warm. Perhaps somewhat akin to the early days with Dream, though the memories of more recent times made those soft moments feel distant and cold.

Still, for now, it was just warm, and the flames in his chest flickered cautiously, filling his core with mirrored heat.

Tommy dozed until a hand grasped his shoulder and shook lightly. For a moment, ice and fire overlapped, and Tommy’s eyes shot open as he tried to scramble to his feet. “Ow!” he yelped, falling back onto his butt a second later as his head smacked hard into something above him.

The pain echoed through his skull, and Tommy blinked frantically to get rid of the slight tears that threatened to fill his eyes. He had gone through much worse than this; this pain was practically nothing.

“Ouch,” Wilbur’s voice hissed, sympathetic, and Tommy remembered where he was. He had hit his head on the desk - there was nowhere close to enough room to stand up underneath it like Tommy had attempted to do. “Good job Tech, you scared the kid.”

“All I did was wake him up,” Technoblade retorted. Tommy didn’t have a chance to respond or get his bearings back any more than that, as Technoblade suddenly reached under the desk and tugged him out.

For a moment Tommy was airborne before he was placed onto legs that had fallen asleep long ago. He almost fell again, but Technoblade’s reflexes were fast, and he left Tommy blinking up at him with wide eyes. He expected Technoblade to look annoyed. The prince had made it clear that he was bringing Tommy along only for Wilbur’s sake, surely Tommy being unable to even stand on his feet would frustrate the teenager beyond belief.

To his surprise and relief, there was nothing harsh or angry in Technoblade’s red eyes. “This is why,” Technoblade merely stated, lifting Tommy again. Tommy flinched when Technoblade was suddenly holding him, supporting his weight as though he weighed nothing but a feather - “I said he shouldn’t come to our lesson with us.”

Tommy felt like a little kid, being carried like this. His legs were wrapped around Technoblade’s waist, with one of Technoblade’s arms around his back, the grip as strong as iron. The other arm was under him to support his weight as Technoblade looked over his shoulder, telling Wilbur off.

Tommy blushed. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and forehead, undoubtedly making his face turn red. “I can walk!” he protested loudly before Wilbur could reply to Technoblade.

“Bruh.” Tommy flinched, startled at the un-princely word sighed out in such a tone. “You almost just collapsed. I was standing right here, I saw the whole thing.”

“Nu-uh,” Tommy protested weakly.

“I’ll put you down when we get to the kitchens.”

The kitchens? Tommy must have been good during their lesson, quiet enough to deserve more food today. Unless they were only bringing him there so they could eat in front of him, forcing him to stare longingly at the food that he wasn’t allowed to touch…

Tommy gave up, slouching forwards to let his head rest against Technoblade’s shoulder with a tiny sigh. There was no point in struggling or trying to argue. They were much stronger than him, and he wouldn’t be able to change their minds anyways.

“Cheer up, Tommy,” Wilbur’s voice spoke. A hand poked his back lightly, like a friendly tap, even though Tommy still flinched. “It’s time for dinner, and then bed. Little kids have to go to sleep early, right?”

“M’not little,” Tommy grumbled into Technoblade’s shoulder. He was ignored by both of the twins.

Tommy didn’t see much of their trip down to the kitchens since he kept his head pressed into Technoblade’s shoulder the entire time. He supposed his earlier doze must still be affecting him because his head still felt sluggish and his eyes were heavy. He hadn’t slept for real, so he hadn’t had any of the benefits of actual rest, just the nasty ache its light touch had left behind.

Wilbur and Technoblade still spoke to each other, their voices soft murmurs that couldn’t hold any of Tommy’s attention.

It wasn’t until another voice was added to the fray that Tommy looked up again, raising one hand to rub at his eyes. There was a woman in what looked like a maid outfit, her head bowed and her hands raising her skirt into a curtsy motion. Strangely, her hands were tight where she clenched the fabric, her knuckles nearly white as they appeared to tremble slightly.

Tommy stirred, a tiny frown on his face as his heart went just a little faster. What was she scared of? Was something scary happening?

“Your Imperial Highnesses,” she said. She spoke like someone who was trying to keep their voice steady and just failing to do so. “What does this - this lowly servant owe the pleasure for?”

Tommy could feel Technoblade’s rough exhale, even if the motion wasn’t audible. “We’re here to pick up some dinner for ourselves and our guest,” Wilbur spoke up. His voice wasn’t as warm as it was when he spoke to Tommy and Technoblade. Instead, he spoke in the same manner he had when he had first entered Tommy’s room - like his voice was a knife, expertly wielded.

“I will bring you food at once,” the servant spoke. She hadn’t moved from her position, frozen like a statue. “Is there anything specific that will please your exquisite taste?”

“Anything is fine as well as it’s prepared well and contains protein,” Wilbur hummed, disinterested. There was a small pause, and then he added, “and make sure whatever you get for our guest is a well-balanced meal for children his age. He’s seven.”

“Of course. I will speak to the head chef and nutritionist directly and ensure we can meet your expectations.”

“Go on, then.”

The servant scuttled away.

Tommy shifted in Technoblade’s grip, still tense, and Technoblade must have felt him move because a second later Tommy was being lowered to the floor. It was unexpected, but Tommy was happy to find that his legs no longer felt numb and he was easily able to stand on his own. “It won’t take long,” Wilbur reassured him when they made eye contact. He even winked at him.

Tommy frowned, tugging slightly at his shirt - well, Dream’s shirt since he was still wearing the dark green tunic Dream had thrown at him in the morning. “Why was she so scared?” he questioned, unable to bite the question back. Wilbur hadn’t seemed to mind any of his questions so far, so he thought perhaps it would be safe. However, as Wilbur’s expression immediately closed off, Tommy had the horrible feeling he had made a mistake.

“Sorry,” he blurted out immediately, taking a step back and knocking into Technoblade. Technoblade’s hand moved down to steady him, and he flinched away.

Wilbur traced his motions with a sharp eye, and the darkness that had clouded over his expression seemed to grow even stormier. “She’s afraid of us,” he said finally, his tone of voice nonchalant. “Since we’re her Imperial Highnesses, the sons of the Emperor. Are you afraid of us too, Tommy?”

Tommy took a moment to digest that answer. Their servant was afraid of them due to their position… just like how Tommy felt afraid of the Emperor, he supposed, but he had never been as scared of the twin princes. He hadn’t been afraid of them at all after he had decided not to be. They treated him so gently.

He felt a little scared a moment ago, realizing their servant was. It was as though her fear had clouded the air that he breathed, and filled his own lungs like an illness passed on.

Still, the hand on his shoulder was gentle, and though Wilbur’s expression was dark, he made no move to hurt him. Dream would have hurt him by now.

Tommy wouldn’t be afraid unless they gave him reason to be. He shook his head no, straightening his shoulders. “You’re not that scary. You showed me horses,” he stated, as though it were an obvious fact.

Wilbur’s expression stuttered, some of that icy chill cracking. A second later he was laughing, shoulders shaking slightly with mirth as he raised a hand to press it against his mouth. “Right,” he breathed out, though drawled may be a better word. “I suppose we’ll just have to show all the servants Carl then, and they’ll all stop feeling afraid.”

“No,” Technoblade grumbled, removing his hand from Tommy’s shoulder at last.

After that, the tension dissipated fully, the poison was gone from his lungs, and Tommy let a small smile grow on his face.

This is only for a few days , he reminded himself. Still, it was far more fun than staring at walls, so just like Wilbur, Tommy would embrace it as fully as he could while it lasted.

As Wilbur promised, the food didn’t take long for the servants to gather together. Wilbur had two servants follow them with the platters of food all the way to their room. The servants weren’t allowed inside their room though; Wilbur and Technoblade took the trays at the door, and the servants were quick to leave.

Tommy was allowed in the room, ushered in as easily as that, and left to gaze around with wide eyes as the twins stepped around him and headed to a large desk to place the food down.

If Tommy thought the amount of gold on the twins was ridiculous, it had nothing compared to this. There wasn’t a single decoration in their room that wasn’t made of solid gold. It was actually a bit blinding, and ridiculous - and Tommy had the power to make gold, and he was the one saying that! It didn’t even look good.

Then again, the twins weren’t human, were they? Both of them had piglin blood. Tommy hadn’t had a chance to learn much about hybrids, but he did know that piglins liked gold, and hybrid instincts were a lot stronger in children and teenagers. So perhaps the horrible decoration wasn’t entirely their fault, even if it did make Tommy want to cover his eyes.

“Tommy,” Wilbur called out, breaking Tommy out of his frozen stupor by their door. Tommy hurried over to where both the twins had sat down in front of their desk. As soon as he was close enough, Wilbur’s arms shot out and grabbed him, pulling him into his lap before Tommy had a chance to protest.

Already, Tommy knew his face would be red again. “Wil,” he whined, kicking his feet, which hung uselessly mid-air. “I’m not a baby, put me down!”

“But we only have two chairs,” Wilbur mused, his smirk betraying him. “I guess you have no choice but to sit with me.”

“You’re weird,” Tommy grumbled, making sure his next kick connected lightly with Wilbur’s leg. Not enough to hurt him of course, but enough to voice his displeasure.

Wilbur didn’t bother with a response, he only pushed some of the food closer to Tommy. It was clearly meant to be Tommy’s serving, smaller than the plates both Wilbur and Technoblade had, but it was still a lot of food. More than that, as Tommy finally focused on it, it looked delicious. There were mashed potatoes, seasoned chicken, and some steamed vegetables.

“I can eat all of this?” Tommy questioned, somewhat in disbelief. He hadn’t even been sure they would let him have any at first, and now they were giving him more than he even knew what to do with. It seemed he really had been quiet enough during their lesson.

“We both have our own,” Wilbur pointed out, a touch confused.

Tommy didn’t give him a chance to ask any more questions. He pulled the plate closer to himself, grabbed the fork next to it, and dug in.

He was warm in Wilbur’s arms, he was comfortably full, and he was dozing off again, even with his neck in an awkward position and his spine scrunched up.

He barely even stirred when Technoblade lifted him from Wilbur’s arms, placing him on a bed far softer than anything Tommy had ever felt before. He’d thought his guest bed was the most comfortable bed he’d ever been on, but this far exceeded it.

“Wil?” he muttered blearily, rolling onto his side. A hand grabbed him - Technoblade, Tommy could somehow tell - pulling him back onto his back and holding him still for a moment. It gave Tommy the uncomfortable feeling of being treated like a doll, but at that moment, he honestly couldn’t bring himself to care.

Warmth joined him on either side. It seemed like the twins were going to bed now, too.

“Sleep,” Wilbur’s voice softly commanded, his own grip moving to adjust Tommy as he pleased.

Tommy had no complaints, and he let sleep pull him away.

Chapter Text

“Ew. Ew. Ew -”

“Bruh, what did you expect when you decided you wanted to sleep next to a child who is both poor and an orphan .”

“Look at the state of my pillow! It’s so greasy just from one night of him sleeping on it!” The voice that was speaking felt distant and far away, but weirdly familiar. For some reason, instead of jolting awake like he normally did at the sound of voices or movement, Tommy wrapped the familiarity around him as safety and snuggled deeper into the warm blankets that surrounded him. “And - is that dry blood?”

There was some more shuffling movement, and then a curious hum. “Looks like it.”

“That’s disgusting! Is it on me - Techno, look at me, is it on me -!”

“You’re acting like it would be the first time you got blood on you?”

“Fresh blood and who knows how old blood is entirely different!”

Despite his attempts to fall back into the warmth and safety that allowed him such peaceful sleep, all of the shouting and arguing was making it extremely hard to do so. Tommy groaned slightly in complaint, sleepily blinking open his eyes. The world was fuzzy and unfocused until he blinked a few more times, and the world reluctantly became clear.

Sitting on the bed, close to his head, was Technoblade. The prince was looking down at Tommy, head tilted slightly to the side. His bright pink hair looked like silk as it draped down his neck and shoulders, though it seemed a bit more tangled than it had the day before. Technoblade was also dressed very differently - his crown and most of his jewelry were gone. He was only wearing a white sleeping shirt and a pair of matching pants, with two simple golden bands around his wrists. “Morning,” he greeted, as he caught Tommy’s gaze.

The events of the day came flooding back slowly, and Tommy shuffled to his knees with a yawn, raising one fist to scrub at an itchy eye. Only when he was done, did Tommy reply, “morning,” in a quiet, tired voice.

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have at some point, and the princes decided to let him sleep in the same bed as them. Tommy wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He hadn’t slept with another person since the last time he crawled into his parents' bed after a nightmare, and he couldn’t even properly recall when such a time had been. It had been… nice. Comforting, warm, and safe.

He had already decided to enjoy these few days as much as he could while he could, so surely he could leave it at that and not worry about questions like ‘why’ and ‘what’s the catch?’

“Why are you so gross?” Wilbur groaned, his tone pained and despaired. Some of the conversation Tommy had heard before he had woken registered finally, and Tommy’s mouth fell slightly agape as he whipped around to face Wilbur.

“I am not gross!” Yes, he was. “I’m just not a - a - pampered prince!” Wilbur was in fact, a pampered prince. “I need to take care of my family! I don’t have time to bath every time a single speck of dirt gets on me!”

“A speck? It’s like you took a bath in grease!”

It was hard to argue when Tommy didn’t necessarily disagree. He hated being dirty; however, having the chance to bathe and wash himself wasn’t his choice. It was a privilege bestowed on him when he deserved it, and these days, it is a privilege he rarely deserves. “Fuck you,” Tommy settled on, a comeback that had never failed him before.

“Destroyed,” Technoblade deadpanned, backing Tommy up.

This is why Tommy had chosen a super cool nickname for him. He knew the Blade would have his back when it mattered most.

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed, “destroyed!”

Wilbur stuttered for a second, his hands making odd, jerking motions in front of him before he seemed to lose his steam. His arms fell to his sides, and he sighed, running a hand quickly through his messy hair. “You’re taking a bath today,” he informed Tommy. His voice was stern as though he was expecting him to argue.

Tommy’s eyes widened, and he tried to jump out of the bed much too quickly. Considering he was still tangled in the blankets, all he really accomplished was falling out of the bed instead - but before he could even be afraid of hitting the floor, Technoblade had caught him. Somehow the prince was on his feet even though he had been sitting down a moment before.

“Yes!” Tommy screeched, wiggling around until Technoblade untangled him and placed him on his own two feet. Tommy wound his fingers in Dream’s green tunic, practically hopping up and down on his toes and he smiled up at the two princes. “Yes! A bath please!” First horses, then dinner, and now a bath? Tommy was practically buzzing with excitement, and he could feel the way his magic reacted, strengthening in his chest and flaring with wicked hot heat.

Wilbur, who had been preparing to argue just moments before, seemed a bit dumbfounded. “You… want to take a bath?”

“Yes!”

“You like baths?”

Was Wilbur deaf, or just stupid? “Yes,” Tommy said again, more forcefully. “Now.” He paused, and added, “please.” It was best not to forget his manners.

“Then why are you so - you know what, I don’t care, I can think about it after you’re clean,” the prince gave up. “I’ll ask the maids to set up a bath for you right away, and I’ll ask them to find some fresh, clean clothes for you to wear as well. You can give your current outfit to them to… wash… if you’re attached to it.”

Tommy felt a bit attached to the green tunic since it belonged to Dream. It was a bit like a gift, even if it had been given to Tommy in a hurry. The rest of his clothing, he didn’t care much for - even if they were washed, Tommy wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to wear them and feel clean at the same time.

Decision made, Tommy nodded, with a few more excited hops as he stared at Wilbur expectantly. Wilbur nodded back after a moment, and walked over to the door - he only opened it and poked his head out for a few minutes, but Tommy guessed he was letting a guard or maid outside know, because when he closed the door he told Tommy, “they should be finished getting your bath ready in about ten minutes.”

Tommy wasn’t sure if the princes knew what a bath was.

The place the anxious-looking maid brought him to didn’t seem like a bath. It seemed more like… like an ocean! An entire ocean, that fit into a single room. Tommy stared at it with wide eyes for a moment, entirely stunned by the deep water that was colored pink for some odd reason. Little things were floating inside of it, and he tiptoed closer to get a better look.

“Those are rose petals,” the maid explained when she noticed what he was looking at. She had relaxed a bit once Tommy and her had entered the room. Wilbur and Technoblade had gone to take their baths somewhere else. “They’ll make you smell nice.”

“Is that why it’s pink…?”

“The rose petals, soaps, and a touch of magic.” With the last word, the maid poked Tommy right on the tip of his nose, and Tommy giggled a bit at the funny feeling. There were no bubbles, but this bath seemed nice too. “Do you need help with your clothes?”

“No!” Tommy yanked off his green tunic in one quick movement to show her that he knew how to do it himself, before holding the tunic up to her. “Can you take this, please? Wil said you could get it cleaned for me.”

The maid flinched, and her anxious expression from before was suddenly back. “Ah… of course, I can, but make sure you’re addressing the princes properly,” she warned him. She was looking around, as though someone would jump out at any moment and start yelling at her. Tommy felt some sympathy - he knew what it was like to worry about that, he was worried about Dream yelling at him whenever he was home.

But… “He said I can call him what I want,” Tommy defended himself, thinking of how Wilbur and Technoblade had spoken about the servants of the castle. They said they were scared of them. Tommy still thought the maid might stop being afraid if Technoblade showed her Carl. “Do you like horses?”

“... Horses?” The maid just looked bewildered now, but after a second she tsked and shook her head, folding the green tunic over her arm. “Why don’t you take your bath now? There’s soap, shampoo, a rough cleansing brush, and a hairbrush on the ledge. If you need help, just call out.”

Tommy pouted at her lack of response regarding horses, but nodded anyway, eager to get clean. “Thank you!” After he used his manners, the maid rewarded him with a small smile. She turned away and started walking back away from Tommy, and Tommy watched her as she opened the door and stepped outside, closing it behind her. Just like that, Tommy was left by himself in the large room.

Once she was gone, Tommy quickly rid himself of the rest of the clothes, throwing them haphazardly in a pile for the time being. Walking back over to the edge of the… bath… Tommy lowered himself onto his bottom, before holding onto the side of the bath and slowly slipping inside.

It was the warmth that hit him first. The water in the bath was so warm, Tommy would almost call it hot - it immediately chased away any chill residing in Tommy’s body, and he gasped at the sensation. It was like using his magic; it was like when the warmth surged through his body from head to toe, only it lasted longer than just a second. If this is what baths felt like for the princes, why did they ever leave the bathtub? Tommy would be happy to spend the rest of his day taking a bath!

Tommy slipped deeper into the bath. There was a small ledge on the edge that he was probably meant to sit down on, but in his eagerness to enjoy the warmth, he slipped off the ledge entirely and fell deeper into the bath. It was so deep his toes couldn’t even touch the bottom, but luckily his parents had taught him to swim, so Tommy was fine. They always said it was an important skill to learn since Tommy got himself into so much trouble.

Tommy laughed in delight, ducking his head under the water for a moment. It did smell nice, now that it was all around him - and as Tommy scrubbed at his arms and nails, he could see the way dirt flecked off, floating in the water.

Wrinkling his nose at the sight, Tommy reluctantly swam back over to the ledge. No matter how much he wanted to swim around and splash, he really should get clean first - he knew from experience, he would feel much better after. Tommy sat on the small ledge, and the water reached the bottom of his chin, so he could just feel the warmth. Relaxing back, Tommy snatched up the cleansing brush and got to work.

Tommy didn’t get to play in the bath as much as he wanted to, sadly. By the time he had scrubbed his skin clean, he had been forced to move on to tackling his hair - it was badly knotted and made his eyes water, so it took a long time to brush it all out and wash it with the shampoo. Looking at the water when he was finally finished made Tommy’s excitement to play quickly fade. The water around Tommy was tinged brown, with some rusty red tones from the blood Tommy had washed off his skin.

Now that his body was clean, swimming around in the filth that he had just rid himself felt… bad.

Maybe before he left tomorrow, Tommy could try to convince them that he needed another bath. Then, he could spend the entire time swimming around and playing, since he would be clean going in.

Somewhat appeased by his plan, Tommy climbed out of the bath, careful not to slip and fall right back in. He grabbed the thick, fluffy towel the maid had brought for him, wrapping it around himself and patting himself down so that the towel soaked up a lot of the water. The towel was so soft, that it felt more like a blanket on his skin - Tommy grinned at the sensation, and ended up lying on the ground, wrapped comfortably in the warm blanket.

Clean, warm, and comfortable, Tommy could almost fall asleep right there and then. Wilbur had woken him up in the morning when he was still tired, so maybe Tommy could catch up on some sleep now…

“Tommy?”

Tommy blinked his eyes open, sitting up slightly and twisting to look towards the door. The maid was standing there with a small frown on her face, though the expression faded when she made eye contact with Tommy. “Sorry, little one,” she apologized, “I just wanted to check on you since you’ve been in here for some time. Are you ready to get dressed?”

“Maybe I can take a nap?” Tommy suggested.

The maid’s expression shifted, her lips curling up into a smile and her eyes sparkling with mirth. “I think not,” she laughed, and though she denied him, her words were sweet and gentle. “The princes are waiting for you. Here, let me help you.”

The maid entered the room once more. Even though Tommy knew how to get dressed, she helped him anyway - pants, a button-up shirt with white frills, and even a thick, warm cape with the Antarctic Empire’s colors, which was tied around his shoulders. As Tommy picked at the clothing with a surprised expression, considering how fancy it was, the maid must have noticed. She lightly pushed his hand away from the edges of the fabric, before explaining, “these used to belong to Prince Wilbur. He said you could wear them.”

Huh. For some reason, the knowledge made Tommy feel warm inside.

After the maid finished dressing him, she took the hairbrush and messed with his hair for a bit - moving the strands this way and that, and drying it off better with the towel. As she moved the towel away, she smiled, commenting, “your hair is a really beautiful shade… almost like spun sunlight, or pale gold. It wasn’t noticeable under all that grime before, but don’t you feel so much better, now?”

Tommy did feel better, but as the maid spoke, his stomach twisted slightly. Her comment reminded him of his parents, and he hadn’t been expecting it. All at once, he thought of how his parents had called him all those sun-related nicknames. It made him feel a weird mixture of emotions, sick and sad but also oddly happy at the same time.

He tried not to dwell on the emotions for too long, stubbornly pushing them aside and nodding in response to the maid's questions. “Yes, thank you,” he said, minding his manners.

“I did notice you had a few bruises and nasty cuts though,” the maid said, clicking her tongue. “Do you roughhouse a lot at home? I know some boys can be like that…”

Tommy bit his tongue lightly, and to this, he did not respond.

“Well,” the maid said, moving on quickly enough, “let’s get you back to the princes. They finished their baths sometime ago, and have ordered breakfast to their rooms this morning. They won’t be able to get away with that for much longer, the Emperor prefers to have family meals, but it seems like they want you to eat with them again.”

The maid tsked again, as she had earlier, before taking his hand and walking him out of the room with the giant bath, and back into the maze of castle hallways. Tommy didn’t respond, too distracted by the idea that the princes had picked him over the Emperor. It was just in this singular, small matter, but that knowledge struck deep all the same, making him feel a bit winded.

Tommy wasn’t used to being a priority. Dream never made Tommy a priority in anything. Tommy tried his best to be good, to understand that Dream had a busy life, but wouldn’t princes have even busier lives than Dream? Despite that, they somehow seemed to have a lot more time for Tommy.

As his thoughts drifted, Tommy shook his head hard. No, no, it wasn’t fair to think about Dream like that. Dream did his best, and he was Tommy’s family. That was all that mattered.

Tommy must have been stuck in his thoughts for longer than he thought because when he finally started paying attention once more, he was already outside the door to the prince’s room again. Tommy sighed slightly, preparing himself for the onslaught of gold as the maid released his hand and knocked three times on the door. One day, Tommy mourned, their instincts would be calm and their room wouldn’t be so ugly.

Hopefully soon. Tommy felt really bad for any of their friends who might want to come over and spend time with them. They would be blinded by the gold and would want to cry because of how much it hurt their eyes and their hearts.

“My Imperial Highnesses,” the maid called out. Her hand was shaking again, just a little, though her voice was strong and steady. “I’ve returned with Tommy, he’s finished his bath.”

“Enter,” Wilbur’s voice called out, calm and steady.

The maid lowered her hand to the handle of the door. Her other hand met the center of Tommy’s back, pushing him forward gently after she swung the door open. She was only a few steps behind Tommy as Tommy stepped back into the prince's room, glancing around to locate Wilbur and Technoblade.

Technoblade was sitting at the same desk they had eaten at the night before. In front of him were several plates of dishes, and Tommy could feel the way saliva filled his mouth at the sight of them. He couldn’t see what was on the plates from where he stood, but he could smell the food as soon as he stepped in the room - the cooked, juicy smell of meat was strongest, and Tommy inhaled deeply. Technoblade seemed to be lifting covers off the food and setting them aside, and he was dressed for the day now, back in full prince regalia and drenched in golden jewelry.

Wilbur was sitting up on the edge of his bed just as Tommy and the maid walked in, clearly having been lying down just moments before. As Tommy tore his gaze away from the food for a moment to look at Wilbur, Wilbur finished sitting up, looking first at the maid, and then at Tommy.

Then, Wilbur froze.

It was only for a moment, but Tommy noticed it. After all, he had only managed to live with Dream so long because of how observant he had taught himself to be, and sometimes Dream froze for a moment too before he got really angry.

But Wilbur’s not like that, Tommy managed to reassure himself, just as Wilbur let out a deep, seething snarl.

Technoblade dropped the cover he was moving aside to the floor and whipped around.

Before the cover had even reached the floor, Wilbur had launched himself off the bed, flinging himself forward towards Tommy and the maid. His lips were drawn back to bear wicked-sharp tusks, and the red of his eyes seemed even brighter than they had just moments before. Tommy was reminded, unnervingly, of fresh blood.

Next to him, the maid let out a strangled, half-scream. She ripped her hand away from Tommy and threw herself backward, out of the room, hard and fast enough that she ended up slamming her back against the opposite side of the hallway - Tommy could hear the thud as she made contact with it.

Tommy, on the other hand, was frozen in place as terror rose in his heart, faster and sharper than he thought possible. One moment he was fine, and the next he was cold all over, his hands were shaking, and his breathing was rough. All he could see - Dream standing over him, his hand balled into a fist - was Wilbur - the same bare, cold walls of his room, for hours and hours and hours - coming at him - straw falling into a fire, swallowed up in an instant, Dream hovering behind his shoulder, silent - and then he was in front of him, and Tommy’s legs gave out.

He heard a loud clang in his ears, ringing, and it took Tommy a second to realize it wasn’t him hitting the ground. Which was a funny thought, because there wouldn’t be a clang if Tommy hit the ground anyway - there would be a thump.

Not that it mattered, because Tommy hadn’t hit the ground at all. Even as he had fallen, Wilbur had been fast enough to catch him - snagging him by his upper arm and leaving Tommy dangling there, hyperventilating and panicking. Startled into movement, Tommy yanked hard on the grip Wilbur had on him, his breath coming out in panicked, heavy gasps. “I - you - wh -” he stammered between his breathing, unable to get a hold of himself and his speech. Why was Wilbur suddenly making that sound? Why was he suddenly lunging at Tommy and the maid? They hadn't done anything wrong, and Wilbur had been calm just a second before! It made no sense!

Wilbur lifted him by his arm, and it only stung for a second, before Wilbur was placing Tommy on his waist like Tommy was a toddler. Wilbur’s arms wrapped around Tommy, tighter than any hug Tommy had been given, and he twisted so his back was closer to the door. The entire time, he continued to make that deep, angry snarling sound.

Tommy let out a choked, panicked whine, and the snarling only grew louder as Tommy shook apart. He could feel something wet on his face and realized he was crying, though he didn’t know when he had started. The fear was choking him, and he couldn't get a handle on it no matter how hard he tried. Behind his eyelids, all he saw was green, and a smiling mask.

Out of the corner of his eye was movement, and Tommy managed to twist his head to the side just enough to see Technoblade storming past Wilbur. His expression was similar to the one Wilbur had worn - lips drawn back to show off his tusks, and his eyes a gleaming, vibrant red. He might have been snarling as well. Tommy had no way to know. He couldn’t hear, over Wilbur’s snarls, Tommy’s heavy, panicked breathing, and his hiccuping sobs.

He did hear the maid when she screamed out, “Your Highness ple - your Highness -!” but then she went quiet, all at once, as though her mouth had been magically spelled shut. Tommy didn't like it at all. She was nice to him. She smiled at him, helped him, and poked his nose with her finger.

Tommy didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t understand why Wilbur was mad, or why black spots were dancing in the corners of his vision, or why they were suddenly moving. He was barely aware when he was suddenly sitting down on something soft, and then he lying down, pushed onto his back. Something heavy fell over him, and Tommy rolled into the soft object without thinking, clutching it close and trying to remember how to just - fucking - breathe -

There was a soft chuffing noise in his ear, and Tommy realized that the snarling had stopped.

The chuffing sounded again, and then there was a hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles there.

The next breath was a little easier, though the air he was finally able to exhale just left him again a second later, in one of those broken sobs. The fear just wouldn’t go away. It felt like his entire body, his entire brain, was being flooded with it. There was no way to escape. There was nowhere he could go.

Please, he wanted to scream, if only he had the oxygen to do so, don’t hurt me. Don’t leave me. I’ll be good. Please.

“Tommy,” Technoblade’s voice rumbled, breaking through some more of his panic. A second hand touched him, brushing through his hair gently, and Technoblade’s voice deepened into a half-purr. “Tommy,” he said again, voice intense, “copy my breathing, here.” Tommy felt his wrist being grabbed. He flinched, trying to jerk away, but someone was behind him, and there was no escape.

For a second, the fear got worse, and Tommy felt sick with it. He kept waiting for pain, for Technoblade to snap his wrist in half, for something to go wrong.

Then, Technoblade pressed Tommy’s hand against his stomach. He sucked in a slow, exaggerated breath, before letting it out just as slowly. Then, he just kept doing the same thing, over, and over.

Copy my breathing, Tommy somehow managed to remember Technoblade saying.

Oh, it was hard. It was so hard.

However, as time passed without Tommy feeling any pain, it became a bit easier, bit by bit, and as it became easier, Tommy’s awareness came back to him, and his muddled, panicked thoughts calmed and slowed.

He didn’t know how long it took. It wasn’t a quick process, and Tommy felt like he had been lying there for hours before his breathing was somewhat under his control again. He finally realized Wilbur was lying behind him, and he was the one gently rubbing his back. Technoblade, who was in front of him, was the one playing with his hair. Neither of those sensations hurt - the twins didn’t want to hurt him.

So why had Wilbur run at him and the maid like that? They hadn’t done anything wrong. All they did was walk into the room after Wilbur told them to, and then all of a sudden…

Try as he might, Tommy couldn’t think of anything that would explain Wilbur’s behavior. Sniffling hard, he tried to sit up, finally feeling stable enough to do so - but as he did, Technoblade’s fingers wound tightly in his hair, gently but firmly pushing him back down. “Stay down, runt,” Technoblade ordered him, his voice still oddly intense. Behind him, Wilbur made more of those chuffing noises.

Tommy managed to turn his head so he was looking up at Technoblade, blinking wetly. What he saw made his stomach twist. Technoblade’s face was splattered in crimson red, and Tommy recognized it as blood. It was already drying, but it still made Tommy flinched away sharply, the anxiety and fear that had just started to go away returning all at once.

Not only was the blood scary, but so was the expression on Technoblade’s face. His pupils were dilated into tiny pinpricks, and he was staring at Tommy like he wanted to… to hurt him, or eat him , or something just as awful.

Tommy missed George and Sapnap. He missed Dream. He even missed Eret, right then.

“Did you - is that - the maid -” Tommy stuttered, feeling the way his hands started to shake even as he clutched tighter at the soft, warm blanket. His stomach rolled, and he suddenly regretted eating dinner the night before. He hated being sick, covered in his puke, dirty and smelling, and in pain. Don't throw up. Don't throw up.

Technoblade didn’t answer right away, and Tommy felt even sicker, but then, “she’s fine,” Technoblade said, his voice smooth. “She’s not hurt that badly, runt. The doctors will take care of her.”

“But why did you - did -”

“Why did I harm her?” Technoblade guessed. As Tommy watched him, Technoblade leaned further over the bed. He finally stopped staring at Tommy, raising his gaze slightly to look at Tommy’s hair. As he pulled his fingers loosely through the strands, Tommy could hear a low purr in the prince’s chest. “She broke one of our laws.”

Oh.

Did she? Tommy knew breaking laws was really bad, and if you broke a law, one of the knights could go after you and lock you away, or even kill you depending on the law that you broke. He also knew that the royal family hated when people broke laws, and their reactions were even harsher than the knights. Though, Tommy still didn’t think it was very nice of Technoblade and Wilbur to attack her so suddenly… “Couldn’t you ju - just… talk to her?” Though the words took a few tries to get out, Technoblade waited patiently. When Tommy finished speaking, Technoblade slowly looked back into Tommy’s eyes, instead of looking at his hair any longer.

“If we don’t punish those who do wrong, then they’ll do wrong again,” the prince explained. “Or others will hear that our punishment is lackluster, and then they won’t be afraid of the consequences of breaking the laws, so they’ll start doing the same.”

“What’s lackluster?”

“It means something that isn’t exciting. It means that the punishment was boring, and not scary.”

“What’s conseq-mence?”

“Consequence. It means when you do something, the consequence is what happens after.”

Somehow, the conversation with Technoblade was helping the remains of Tommy’s fear fade away. What the prince said did make sense, and the maid hadn’t been killed, not like his parents. She was hurt, but she was going to see a doctor now. Then she would get better and give Tommy more baths. Tommy sniffled, raising a hand to rub at his itchy, dry tear stains.

“What law did she break?”

Wilbur stopped rubbing his back, and now Wilbur was touching his hair too, tugging gently at a strand and winding it around his finger. Tommy wanted to complain, but at the same time it felt nice, so he allowed it.

Technoblade smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“She touched something that belonged to us,” he murmured, his hand trailing down to trace a line on the side of Tommy’s face, tracing the pathway of a tear that had fallen. “A piece of precious gold, that was hidden away under a layer of grime and dust. She saw the lustrous shine of it, and decided to put her hands all over it before we had a chance.”

“Ours,” Wilbur huffed from behind him. His voice was thick with another piglin chuff, and Tommy felt some sympathy for the young hybrids, who were clearly struggling with their instincts.

“Ours,” Technoblade agreed lowly, his hand flattening out to cup the side of Tommy’s face.

Tommy leaned into the touch, and let his eyes fall shut, just for a moment, at the comfort it brought alongside it.

Chapter Text

Phil hadn’t been sure what to expect when he heard that his sons had taken an interest in their new visitor.

Wilbur’s interest had always been fickle, mercurial. Something that drew his attention one day would be meaningless to him the next, or something he liked would become something that angered him.

At this time, Technoblade, always willing to go along with Wilbur’s ever-changing moods, would sweep in and neatly dispose of whatever it was that upset his twin. Sometimes it ended cleanly, with items thrown away and orders given out, while other times it ended in bloodshed.

Phil didn’t mind. It was good for children their age to explore their interests, and try to find what truly spoke to them. It allowed Wilbur to discover his music and passion for pretty words, as Technoblade developed a quiet love for animals of all kinds, horses more than most, and quickly became the youngest historically to master swordplay in the Empire.

It was rare for their interest to extend to people, however. Ever since his sons were young, almost everyone introduced to them struggled to hide their fear. From the maids to the cooks to even the knights, their fingers trembled and their heads bowed as the twins wandered by. It likely all started when they first arrived in his arms, small and afraid, and all too willing to reach out and messily devour anyone who got too close. Phil had to hire so many new staff members during those years.

As they grew, and the tension followed them, neither prince felt the need to mend those bridges. If people couldn’t handle them, then they didn’t deserve them. The only people his sons needed were one another, and Phil, of course.

Yet suddenly, they were spending the entire day with a small, grimy child who had been dropped on his doorstep by a liar in a smiling mask. Technoblade had even allowed the child to meet Carl, and they had dinner privately, locked away in their room. In the early morning, their interest still hadn’t faded. After they had bathed, Technoblade had killed a maid without bothering to give Phil an explanation - and then they had locked themselves in the room to have breakfast with the child, and hadn’t emerged since.

Phil was a patient man, but dinner was quickly approaching, and he hadn’t seen his sons in over twenty-four hours. He was growing restless, as he walked to the dining room, trailed by a duo of knights. He would allow space for his sons to have their curiosities, but they knew better than to shut Phil out.

Phil wanted to see what made ‘Tommy’ so special.

When a servant hurried to open the doors to the dining hall, and Phil saw his sons still weren’t there, he sighed lowly, displeased. He didn’t miss the way the noise had caused the servant to shiver, flinching away from him in a show of fear.

Phil glanced over his shoulder, wings flexing on his back, as he addressed one of his two knights. “Bring my sons here,” he ordered, casually, “whether they want to come or not. Remind them of how important family dinners are to me.”

The reluctance the knight was clearly feeling, from their tension and the way they flinched slightly at his orders, made Phil’s lips twist into a smile. “Yes, your Majesty,” they said anyway, bowing with a hand over their heart. They quickly turned, and began to walk away. No matter their personal feelings, they knew better than to ever disobey a direct order. Phil ensured that his people were well-trained.

Hopefully, Wilbur and Technoblade wouldn’t fight him on this. If they killed the knight, then Phil would have to go and drag them out of their room kicking and screaming, and he knew they wouldn’t enjoy it. Still, if they were going to be stubborn with him, then Phil was more than happy to bundle them up in his nest for a few days - he would never complain about such a lovely opportunity.

Phil walked into the dining room and took a seat at the head of the table. In front of him, maids rushed to cover the table in their dinner for the evening - still sizzling steak, bowls of creamed potatoes, spiced vegetable mixes of carrot and corn, fresh, warm bread, a deep pot of gravy, and much more - but Phil ignored it for the time being, allowing his mind to drift back to the topic of the child. Tommy.

Tommy hadn’t made too much of an impression on Phil when they first met. The little one had been afraid. Most adults were afraid of meeting him, let alone children, so it wasn’t a surprise. Though, there had been a moment there when Tommy had grown angry after Phil commented about his parents. The way Tommy had jumped to their defense, eyes blazing with righteous anger… could that be the cause of his children’s actions? The moment their interest set in?

There was the case overall to consider. It was a simple one on the surface. Dream had been flooding the market with gold, and since gold was the currency of the Empire, Phil had taken notice. He had taken concern. Dream’s claims that the child had magic were doubtful. Magic was rare. It was passed down through blood, but due to discrimination years ago, many families who possessed the ability had been captured and burned. There were likely less than five hundred left who possessed magic in the entire Empire.

Dream’s friend, George, had magic. Phil’s lips curled back into a smile, and he wondered if Dream had realized yet the betrayal he had experienced.

He was ripped away from his thoughts a moment later when the doors to the dining hall opened once more, and the servant who had opened them called out, “I present, the Imperial Highnesses, Wilbur and Technoblade Minecraft… a - and Tommy Innit, their guest.”

Oh?

In all their years of being a family, no one had ever joined them for their meals together.

Phil raised his gaze slowly, staring towards the entrance of the room in interest. His sons stepped in, each of them on either side of Tommy. As Phil glanced over his sons first, he was pleased to see they each seemed their usual selves, dressed in their preferred outfits, and drenched in the gold their piglin instincts demanded them to wear. Wilbur had an annoyed expression on his face, likely due to Phil’s forceful summons, while Technoblade had a patient, calm expression.

In between them stood the child. He looked very different from the child who had knelt before Phil only the day before.

It was clear a bath and a change of clothes had done him wonders. He was no longer caked in a thick layer of dirt and grease - instead, his skin was smooth and clean, his hair brushed out and messy instead of tangled and caked together. The strands which had appeared to be a dark blonde, or very light brown, had taken on an entirely new shade. It looked like spun sunlight or a glowing gold. His eyes were bright, skin flushed instead of pale, even as he swayed back on his heels and stared at Phil in fear.

Tommy ducked his head down a moment later, and Phil’s gaze was drawn to what the child was wearing, which was far more shocking than his newly cleaned state. Not only was he wearing what Phil recognized as one of Wilbur’s old outfits from his childhood, but he was also wearing several pieces of gold from the twin’s hoard.

There was a delicate golden chain that looped twice around his neck, and his wrists made a chiming sound as he moved, the thin bangles clinging together. He was wearing small golden rings on each of his middle fingers, each one outfitted with a singular gemstone - ruby on the left, and sapphire on the right. Around his head sat a small, chained headpiece, dripping with glittering silver gemstones.

The twins never let anyone touch their hoard. They even became restless when Phil got close to it.

Phil smiled, tilting his head to the side as his wings shifted on his back so that he was comfortable. “Good evening,” he greeted, curling his lips back to bare his teeth in the smile. “Please, come and sit. We have an amazing selection for dinner tonight.”

Wilbur strode forward with confidence, snagging his usual seat to Phil’s left. Technoblade walked in slower, gently grasping Tommy’s shoulder to guide him to walk alongside him. Phil watched the way the child flinched slightly at the touch, and narrowed his eyes.

A moment later, Technoblade was seated at his right, Tommy perched nervously next to him. As soon as Phil reached forward to scoop some food onto his plate, his sons took the chance to do the same. Seeing how Tommy was too nervous to move, Technoblade helped him once more, scooping a bit of everything onto his plate so that he could pick what he liked. Tommy was staring at the food now, eyes wide and jaw slightly slack. A child from an orphanage likely had little chance to see all this food. However, a child raised by a man like Dream who had all the gold he wanted in his possession should be somewhat used to so many options. It was an interesting conflict.

Phil chuckled, biting his first bite off his fork, chewing, and swallowing. Wilbur was digging into the steak, and Technoblade was pouring gravy onto his potatoes before he too dug in. Yet the child just continued to sit there, staring. “Oh, please, go ahead,” Phil encouraged him. Tommy startled and looked up, blinking at Phil with those wide, wide eyes. “Dig in. Is it not to your liking?”

“No!” Tommy squeaked, before he blinked, and shook his head frantically. “I mean - yes? It - it’s good, all of the food here is really good, your… um… Majesty, sir.”

“Relax,” Wilbur snorted, waving his fork around in a very unprincely manner. His sons knew the proper decorum while eating meals, but it wasn’t something Phil pushed them to follow during family meals. “Phil’s just an old man, you don’t need to be so nervous around him. He just dragged us here because he missed us. He gets lonely. It happens when you’re old.”

Tommy wrinkled his nose. When he looked away from Phil, and looked at Wilbur instead, he seemed to relax, some of the tension melting away. Did Tommy not know enough to be just as afraid of the princes as the Emperor? “How old is he?”

“How old do you think he is?”

Tommy bit his lip, clearly thinking very intently. In the meantime, Technoblade grabbed Tommy’s plate again, cutting his steak into smaller pieces. “... Like twenty? Twenty is so old.”

“Oh no, much higher,” Wilbur shook his head. He looked amused, smiling in a way he rarely did in front of strangers, his eyes bright. Phil felt some part of his heart, which had grown hard since he heard about the young boy who had barreled into the life of his children, soften. “Think more like… one hundred.”

“One hundred!?” Tommy gawked. When Technoblade pushed his food back in front of him, he finally took a small bite from his carrots, and his expression softened in pleasure.

“One hundred,” Wilbur agreed, “it’s why he’s so creaky -”

“Oh you little shits,” Phil sighed, shaking his head.

“-his hair will be going white any day now-”

“It will not -”

“-and his face will get all wrinkly!”

Phil sighed in faux annoyance, just as Tommy burst into laughter. The sound was soft, as giggles spilled from his throat before they got louder and Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. Even under his hand, Phil could tell he was smiling, and a smile of his own curled up onto his face. Phil had a bit of a weakness when it came to children and their laughter.

As Tommy raised his hand to cover his mouth, his sleeve slipped down his arm slightly, and Phil’s smile froze into place when he made out the dark bruise there. At first glance, one could easily assume it was a bruise gained by the regular tumbling of children, but Phil’s sight was better than most. With that sight, he could make out what looked like bruised fingerprints.

“Tommy,” Phil murmured, unconsciously making his voice sugar-sweet like he used to do when his boys were young. Wilbur and Technoblade both shot their father a look, which Phil chose to ignore. Tommy, to his credit, finally managed to quiet his amusement, to look at the Emperor. “Where did you get that bruise?”

All traces of amusement vanished in an instant. Phil watched the way the child shrunk down in his seat, shoulders rising to his ears. He saw the way his expression changed - defensive where it had been open just seconds before. “I was playing.”

And Phil knew.

“Playing what?”

“... Stacking.”

“How do you play that?”

“I stack lots of things on top of one another - like books.” Tommy wasn’t looking at him. He was looking somewhere off to the side instead, stubbornly ignoring his gaze, as he picked at his shirt. Phil could see the way his fingers trembled, just a little. “They fell down when I stacked them too high, and some of them fell on my arm.”

Phil leaned back in his seat. He kept his smile open, still that same gentle, sugar-sweet appearance that he so rarely had to use these days. It kept all of the rising disgust firmly locked away from his expression and words. “Say, Tommy, I would love to learn more about how you and Dream know each other.”

Wilbur and Technoblade were both tense and quiet. Phil had no doubts that they understood what Phil was hinting toward. As he peeked a quick glance at his sons, he noticed the way Technoblade was clenching the arms of his chair and the way Wilbur’s pupils were constricting and enlarging as he fought against his instincts. The two were likely barely biting their tongues, and barely holding themselves in place. If they launched themselves at Tommy now, the poor child would just be even more afraid and unlikely to answer, and both of his sons knew that. Still, as he took in the deep scratches Technoblade was leaving behind, he knew there would be more blood shed before either twin would be able to calm down.

He didn’t miss the panic that flashed across Tommy’s gaze at his question. Surely Dream had coached him in case this happened, but children as young as Tommy slipped up so easily, forgetting the finer points in but a moment. Dream also hadn’t known Phil’s people were coming until they were already there. He would have had a few minutes to coach Tommy at most.

“Dream adopted me,” Tommy finally said, forcefully. He shoved a mouthful of steak in his mouth like it would stop Phil from continuing to question him. Cute.

“Ah, I see. Your parents were Antarctic civilians, were they not? So you were adopted within the Empire?”

“... Yes.”

Yet Dream had claimed he had found Tommy outside the Empire when Phil’s people had looked into his story. It seemed as though Phil would have to look for young children Tommy’s age within the Empire, whose parents had been killed by a thief. That backstory seemed real enough if Tommy’s reaction during this first meeting meant anything. Perhaps he could get a proper identification on Tommy. He had a feeling Tommy would be listed as missing, rather than adopted.

“You’ve been staying with Dream for… how long, again?”

Tommy shrugged, shoving another mouthful of food into his mouth, as though it had done anything to help him the first time.

Perhaps another angle then. “Why don’t you tell me more about your parents? I can tell you were close.” This angle seemed to work better, some of the tension in Tommy’s shoulders slipping away as the child took a quick peek at Phil from the corner of his eye.

“... They were the best,” Tommy spoke, his voice both strong and achingly soft at the same time. “My dad would tell the best stories - about dragons, and the strongest, most best warriors. They always saved the day, every time, no matter who they had to fight - even really scary bad guys couldn’t stop them.” Phil nodded along, silently encouraging Tommy to continue.

And so, he did. “My mom was really pretty,” he insisted, “Dad said I looked like her - that we have the same eyes and hair and - and facial - uh, bones.”

“Facial structure,” Technoblade murmured, gouging scratches into his chair unseen, and Tommy quickly nodded.

“Yeah! But she said that I was prettier. She said I was her sunlight, and she brushed my hair for me every morning and sang me the sunshine song and - and she got warm baths and made sure it was filled with all the bu - bubbles I wanted - and dad always gave me extra cinna - cinnamon on my to- toast because he knew I - I - that -”

Tommy choked. Suddenly, tears were shining in his eyes, his food all but abandoned as he hunched slightly over himself. The noise he made as his words cut off sounded like a wounded animal - low, pained, and drawn out.

Phil felt something twist in his heart. It was a familiar feeling, nothing new. It was the same feeling he felt whenever either of his twins got themselves hurt during their chaotic escapades, or when they still showed up at his bedroom door in the middle of the night - overcome with nightmares of their world before Phil found him, even all these years later. Whenever they looked at him, expressions twisted - whenever his children needed him.

It felt like the sudden slice of a weapon in his flesh, unexpected, directed at this small child who wasn’t his.

Phil was standing before he knew he was, rounding the table quickly.

Wilbur was launching himself across the table as well, and Technoblade was twisting his chair to the side and dropping to his knees in front of Tommy.

As Technoblade reached to clasp Tommy’s hands, as Wilbur hung off the back of his chair and reached to run a hand oh-so-gently through his hair, as Phil leaned down and wrapped the child into a hug -

Phil quietly realized just why the twins were so attached to this child, so suddenly.

After all, it was as clear as day.

He was theirs.

“Hush,” Phil murmured, rubbing gentle, soothing circles over the boy’s back. Tommy was tense in his arms, shaking and hiccuping, but then he suddenly went limp all at once, collapsing forward and burying his head into Phil’s chest. His next sob escaped him as a wail, and he clutched at Phil’s clothing, sobbing with great, heaving breaths.

Phil leaned more over him, encircling his family in the safety of his wings. “Hush,” he commanded again, voice soft, sugar sweet, spun as thinly as a spider's gossamer web, “I have you. You’ll be okay, mate. I promise.”

Tommy had completely embarrassed himself in front of the Emperor. It was awful.

He had been terrified when Wilbur and Technoblade had told him that they had to go eat with the Emperor in the first place, but no amount of pleading would change their minds. Tommy offered to go back to his original guest room, or even just wait in their room until they were done with their dinner, but for some reason, the princes had been insistent. The entire time they kept exchanging looks with one another, and Wilbur said something about how Tommy would need to meet him at some point.

Which was ridiculous! Tommy would only be in the castle until Dream came back for him after Tommy “failed” to turn all of the straw into gold for the Emperor. Tommy would happily avoid the Emperor during that time, thank you very much.

But in the end, Tommy didn’t have any choice in the matter, as Technoblade quite literally hosted a whining and kicking Tommy over his shoulder to march him towards the dining hall.

Tommy gave up by the time they made it to the doors. He knew he had to be polite and use all his best manners, if there was no other possible way to escape the situation, even though he gave Technoblade his very best glare as he set Tommy down right before the doors. Technoblade, the bastard, just chuckled and ruffled his hair.

“You don’t need to be so stressed,” Wilbur whispered to him, squeezing his shoulder. “We won’t let anything bad happen to you. I promise.”

Tommy felt warmth flood his chest, the fire of his magic reacting in time, practically singing in his chest. Despite his still lingering annoyance towards the princes, his lips curled into a tiny, secret smile. It was... nice of them, to try to make him feel better.

Then the doors swung open.

The Emperor was… not horrible.

He encouraged Tommy to eat, seemed to like the jokes that Wilbur and Technoblade played along with, and even said a swear word! It felt very different than Tommy’s first meeting with him when he had been forced to bow low and answer the Emperor’s demanding questions. In this place, in this hall, the Emperor seemed so much more relaxed. So much more like… a person, even if his wings still cast eerie shadows, and his eyes still appeared as sharp as the edges of broken glass.

Then, the Emperor started questioning him, and the anxiety came back all at once. It was hard to answer his questions the way Dream had wanted him to. The hurried conversation with Dream about the story Tommy was meant to follow had been so quick and sudden, and even if Dream made Tommy repeat it back to him at the time, the memory was already blurry, overtaken with horses and delicious meals and walks through castle halls.

Still, Tommy did his best, and the Emperor didn’t seem angry.

When he asked about Tommy’s parents, it made Tommy feel both sad and happy. He wanted to talk about them - talk about his mom’s pretty smiles and his dad's deep laugh - but as he spoke, he didn’t notice how the pain and sadness grew until it was too late, and then he had ended up crying on the Emperor.

It felt like a wound had been torn open all at once, exposed to the air once more; but as Tommy’s tears slowed after he cried for who knows how long, it also felt… good. As though the wound had been rotting, and needed to be torn open to be cleansed.

The Emperor - “no need to be so formal, call me Phil” - had ordered a servant to grab a basin of warm water and a cloth to wash up Tommy’s face - “Let’s get rid of those sticky tears, mate” - before encouraging Tommy to eat some more - “you’re much too thin.”

Tommy, embarrassed beyond belief at crying in front of the Emperor, could only go along with what the man wanted. Besides, the food was delicious, juicy, and cooked to perfection. Every time Tommy was able to finally see part of his plate under the food, it would instantly be covered by more food as Technoblade added something else to his plate. Tommy didn’t have time to feel scared about running out, with the never-ending additions.

Technoblade was barely eating himself, too focused on keeping Tommy’s plate full, but Tommy was too sapped of energy after his tears to notice until the Emperor sternly ordered Technoblade to eat his food, allowing an eager Wilbur to take over his twin's job.

However, by the time Wilbur took over the task of keeping his plate full, Tommy’s stomach was starting to hurt from all the food he had stuffed in there, and he pushed his plate away with a small shake of his head. Wilbur’s expression fell and he pushed the plate back into place, taking Tommy’s fork and offering him a bite directly from the fork - like he was a baby who couldn’t even feed himself.

Tommy turned his face away from the approaching fork, screwing his expression up with frustration. “No, I’m finished!” he insisted, leaning as far back as his chair would allow.

“But -”

“No!”

“You’re -”

“No!” Tommy insisted. His fingers itched with the urge to pick up the plate and throw it in Wilbur’s face, but even as the thought crossed his mind, the bruises on his skin burned with warning of what would happen if he did so. What should be happening now, from Tommy saying the word ‘no.’ Yet the princes were very different from Dream, and despite Wilbur’s whining and sad looks, he didn’t lay a hand on Tommy.

“Wil,” the Emperor - Phil - spoke up, a mild warning in his voice. “Leave him be. He’s eaten a good amount for his size, we don’t want to make him sick, do we?”

At Phil’s last words, Wilbur seemed to give in, placing the fork down. Tommy hesitantly looked forward once more, but Wilbur didn’t try to make him eat again, so Tommy relaxed in his seat. Another point to the Emperor! Maybe he was only mean when he was in his throne room, so as long as they weren’t in the throne room, Tommy was safe.

“I’m finished as well,” Technoblade announced, pushing his food away from himself and getting to his feet. “Tommy, are you tired? You can sleep with Wilbur and I again tonight.”

“I’m not tired yet,” Tommy insisted, his words cutting off as he yawned. He muffled it in his elbow, before lowering his arm to fix Technoblade with a stare, daring him to say something.

“... Not tired. I’m sure,” Technoblade remarked, voice dry.

Before Tommy could tell him off for his slander, there were hands under his arms, lifting him. Tommy flailed for a moment, his heart falling for a second as cold fear raced through each of his limbs. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach - why was he suddenly being grabbed? Had he done something wrong? Would the hands tighten on him now, slowly, until the pain started to bloom as his bones felt ground together -

Tommy was adjusted in mid-air, and then he was being held in Phil’s arms like someone might hold a baby - one arm under his legs, and the other around his back, with his head mostly on the Emperor’s shoulder.

Tommy froze for a moment, completely overcome with indignation, but also not wanting to shout at the Emperor himself. Instead, he ended up mostly just staring at him with a shocked, betrayed expression.

Phil, the bastard, chuckled, his shoulders rising and falling with the amused sound. “Sorry, mate.”

An apology was a good first step. Tommy waited for Phil to put him down, now that he realized his mistake.

Phil started walking toward the door, Wilbur and Technoblade on either of his sides. Behind them, Tommy could see two knights following, their armor reflecting the orange light of the sunset from outside the large, intricate windows. “You don’t have to carry me!” Tommy finally managed as a servant hurriedly opened the doors for their group. He moved, attempting to shift out of the Emperor’s grip, but the man's hands were like netherite where they gripped Tommy.

“You’ve had a long few days,” Phil remarked, his tone calm despite Tommy’s clear rising irritation. “I just want to help you out.”

“I’m not a baby!”

“I know you’re not, but sometimes it can be nice to take a break and let someone else carry your weight.” Phil lowered his voice into a whisper, like he only wanted Tommy to hear him, and no one else. “Sometimes I still carry Wilbur and Technoblade if they’re really upset or if they get hurt, even though they’re much too big and I can barely hold them anymore.”

Tommy’s anger had still been growing, feeling flushed with embarrassment, but Phil’s whispered message calmed him somewhat. He gazed at Technoblade, eyes wide. Technoblade was still young, Tommy knew that, but he was much larger than Tommy. He was a teenager, not a kid, and yet Phil still carried him even when he seemed big and strong?

Then again, Tommy’s parents had carried him sometimes, too. If he fell and hurt his knees and hands, Tommy would start crying, and then his dad would be there to pick him up and carry him inside. His mom would get a warm cloth to clean up the blood and fuss over the cuts, while his dad distracted him with magic and stories.

Tommy felt tears burning in his eyes, and he frantically blinked them away. He already cried on the Emperor once tonight. He wouldn’t do it again, once was enough - once was too much.

Even though Tommy had managed to stop any tears from falling, Phil still seemed to notice, because he sighed and muttered, “Aw, mate,” under his breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Wilbur piped up, worried, trying to look into Phil’s arms. When he saw Tommy’s expression, his eyes narrowed, lips curling into an unhappy frown around his tusks, and he reached to run his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “Toms?”

“I’m fine,” Tommy grumbled, turning his face into Phil’s chest so no one could see his face.

He expected Wilbur to keep trying to bother him, but thankfully, the prince left him alone.

A few minutes passed quietly, and then Tommy heard another door opening. He peeked away from Phil’s chest to see the twin's bedroom once more, still full of the blinding, ugly gold. Quietly, Tommy thanked every god and goddess he had ever heard of that he wasn’t born a piglin. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to look into this bedroom without that immediate response.

Finally, Phil placed Tommy on his feet again. He kept his hands close to Tommy’s shoulders, as though Tommy really were a baby who couldn’t stand on his home, but once Tommy made it clear that he could keep his balance himself, the Emperor backed off. “Alright. Let’s get you three ready for bed.”

Teeth brushed, hair brushed, clothes changed, and face washed, Tommy allowed the Emperor to pull the thick covers of the twin's bed up to his chin in the darkness of the bedroom. He could feel his body sinking into the comfortable bed, and he couldn’t stop himself from yawning, even if he did try to stifle the noise in his arm once more.

It was getting late, and Tommy was tired, and he was clean and warm and the world was dark. When he blinked, he felt how heavy his eyelids felt, and it was a struggle to open his eyes again.

“I’m going to talk to Wilbur and Technoblade for a moment,” Phil said, his voice a soft whisper. He was nothing but a shadow in the dark. A warm shadow, who reached forward to run his palm over Tommy’s forehead, before leaning over to him and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

That was nice. His mom and dad used to do that, too.

“M’kay,” Tommy yawned, rolling onto his side and letting his eyes fall shut.

He could hear footsteps moving away, and then the door opened and shut before silence fell. Tommy laid still, his quiet breathing the only sound in the room, as his brain moved sluggishly along. All he had to do was sleep. Close his eyes and rest, and Dream would be back to get him before he knew it.

For some reason, some sense of cold awareness sliced through his drowsiness, and Tommy forced his eyes open.

… What were they talking about out in the hallway? What if it was about him - why else would they have to have the conversation where Tommy wouldn’t be able to hear anything?

As soon as he had the thought, it wouldn’t go away. It felt like it was circling over and over again in his mind, making his stomach clench with anxiety. When Tommy sat up, the blanket fell away from his body easily, and he slipped off the bed and to the floor. It wouldn’t hurt to listen in, just in case. If it was boring stuff, then Tommy would just go back into his bed and fall asleep after all.

Tommy did his best to be quiet as he walked over to the door, walking slowly and putting his feet down on the ground as gently as he could. Once he made it to the door, he lay down on the ground where a sliver of light was making its way into the room, pressing his ear against the gap there.

He couldn’t make out the conversation clearly. It was still somewhat muffled through the thick wood, but Tommy was able to catch and understand most words, still allowing him to have a picture of what conversation the members of the imperial family were having with one another.

“ - quickly,” Phil’s voice was finishing a sentence that Tommy hadn’t been quick enough to catch the beginning of.

“It was easier with us,” Technoblade claimed. “We aren’t just ordinary humans. We’re barely human at all. Our instincts accepted you easily, once you overpowered us.”

“I don’t know if easy is the word I would use, mate. You hated everything about your adoption.”

“We didn’t hate you , which is the important part.”

“I can’t believe -” Wilbur said something else, that Tommy couldn’t catch “-signs. Little kids get into trouble! I had my own fair share of cuts and bruises!”

Cuts and bruises? Tommy nervously rubbed his arm, where he knew bruises were painted all across his skin. He had explained those - he had told them about stacking games, and the danger they sometimes brought with them. Surely, they weren’t talking about Tommy’s own injuries.

Phil said something that was too quiet for Tommy to hear. Then, he spoke again, “not that I would ever condemn his actions. It will make it easier for us, but I would rather take the more difficult path.”

“You’re the Emperor. It’s not like it would make that much of a difference,” Wilbur pointed out. “Look, we’re all on the same page, so what is there to discuss? Tomorrow is only Tommy’s second day here, we have time to come up with the specifics. And as long as I have a chance to have a turn with Dream, then I don’t really care much about -” Wilbur’s last few words couldn’t be made out, but it didn’t matter, because Tommy felt like his blood had turned to ice.

Turn with Dream? What did that mean? Turn to do what?

“When he comes to pick up Tommy, we’ll detain him,” Phil said, his words so calm despite the claim he was making. “You can both get a turn with him, as long as you keep him alive. He only gets to die when I say so.”

Die?

What?

Is this because Tommy didn’t turn the straw into gold? It had to be. It was the only thing they asked of him, and he hadn’t done it, and now - now they were talking about -

There was a sound like movement, and Tommy shot away from the door in an instant, scrambling to get back into the bed and yank the covers over himself. He was lying with his back to the door, his eyes tightly shut as it opened smoothly. He tried to calm his breathing, tried his best to look like he was asleep, even as his heart raced in his chest, his magic burned so very, very low, and his body still felt like he had been emerged in ice.

He felt sick. He regretted eating so much food during dinner, as he was forced to swallow down bile. If he threw up, they would know he was awake for sure.

Tommy tried hard not to think about the conversation he just heard. If he thought about it, he wouldn’t be able to control his reaction, and then they would know he was awake too.

Tommy had a really, really bad feeling about what would happen if they found out he was awake.

No one spoke as they entered the bedroom, and Tommy could only somewhat make out the sounds of footsteps approaching. The covers shifted over him, just slightly, and then a body slid under the covers behind him. Moments later, the covers shifted again, and another body slid into place in front of him. The princes, then.

“Good night, boys,” Phil called out. His voice was impossibly soft, and so quiet Tommy could only just make out the words. It would almost be something Tommy could call comforting if it wasn’t for the conversation he just -

No. Don’t think about it.

“Night,” Wilbur’s voice said from behind him, soft, though loud from their proximity.

The door fell shut. Wilbur wound an arm around Tommy’s stomach, pulling him gently against his chest, and Tommy kept himself limp and unresponsive. He made sure his breathing was deep, and calm, focusing all of his thoughts on keeping his breathing steady, and not - not anything else.

The only thoughts Tommy allowed himself to have were, I can’t fall asleep.

And, I can fix this. I can fix this.

So he laid still, and he waited.

He didn’t know how long he waited, unmoving and pretending to sleep. He thought it may be difficult to stay put for so long without actually falling asleep, but it seemed recent events had fully woken him since it wasn’t a struggle at all. Instead, it was almost hard to stay still. His limbs kept aching to twitch with restless movement, as much as Tommy knew he couldn’t take that risk.

He waited until Wilbur and Technoblade were both breathing with deep, heavy breaths, like the ones Tommy had pretended to have. Then, he waited even longer, just to be on the safe side.

Finally, finally, Tommy started to move. He moved slowly, in tiny increments - wriggling out of Wilbur’s grasp, and off the bed. Every time Wilbur’s breathing changed even a little bit, or the man shifted, Tommy would freeze, and wait once more to make sure he wasn’t about to wake the hybrid up. Each time, his heart would jump in his chest, beating rapidly, like the organ wanted to hop out and run away.

Don’t cry. Don’t throw up. Just be slow.

When his feet hit the floor, Tommy took the same approach as he walked over to the door - freezing in place anytime he heard a single sound, until he made it to the doorway.

Once there, he opened the door quickly and slipped through the gap. The door shut quietly behind him, and Tommy sagged against it for a moment, the relief that swept through him making him feel weak for a moment. He’d made it. Now, he could do what he had to in order to save Dream.

“Uh…”

Tommy jumped at the sudden voice, a startled yelp escaping him. Instantly, he slammed a hand over his mouth even as he whirled around to face the two knights who had been standing just outside of the prince’s door that entire time. Of course, princes had knights! Tommy hadn’t even factored that into his plans!

The two knights exchanged glances, before looking back down at Tommy. After a moment in which they just continued to stare at one another, the knight took a deep breath and kneeled down in front of the child. Their hands were shaking slightly, and they were curled into fists in their lap. “What are you up to? Are you… trying to get away? Did the princes say something scary to you?”

Tommy bit his lip, conflicted. He’d made it this far and didn’t want to mess things up now. Would it be easier to agree with the knights about what they thought happened? Would they let Tommy go? What if they made him go back inside the bedroom? “... They want me to go back to my room,” Tommy finally said, slowly, in a small voice. He wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing with the assumption the knights had made.

The knight kneeling down exchanged another look with the knight who was still standing. They didn’t immediately let Tommy leave, and Tommy felt sick again. Would he really get this far, only to fail to save Dream now? His family?

The people in the castle are scared of Wilbur and Techno, Tommy reminded himself, they haven’t met Carl.

“... You can go ask him. But he was really tired and not in a good mood… so…” Tommy trailed off. He knew if he was told to go and talk to Dream when he was tired and not in a good mood, Tommy wouldn’t want to do it at all.

It seemed like the knights felt the same way about the princes, since the knight who was kneeling grimaced and quickly shook their head. They rose back to their feet. “No, no, that won’t be - let's not bother them. Why don’t I escort you to your room? I wouldn’t want you to get… lost.”

Tommy blinked and nodded. More relief flooded through him. His journey wouldn’t end here, and really, it may be for the best if the knight escorted him. Tommy hadn’t been in his own room since the twins had gone there to visit him, so he didn’t think he would be able to find it on his own even if he tried really hard and he really, really wanted to.

“Right. Follow me, then.” The knight started walking down the hallway, glancing back as if to make sure Tommy really would follow. Tommy was, of course, since the knight was bringing him exactly where he wanted to go.

The walk back to Tommy’s original room was quiet, and it didn’t take too long. Once they were there, the knight took a ring of keys off their belt and unlocked the door, gesturing for Tommy to go on inside. Tommy stepped inside without any protest, glancing around the room. It was mostly the same as the last time Tommy had seen it - there were bags of straw against one wall, and a small, comfortable bed against the other. The only difference was that there seemed to be some toys on the bed, which hadn’t been there last time.

Tommy took a few steps closer, curious. Hadn’t Eret mentioned that they were planning to bring Tommy some toys? Maybe they had brought them after all after Tommy had left. Tommy hadn’t seen Eret since - which was a bit sad since they had been nice. Maybe Tommy could ask about saying goodbye to them before Dream took him home.

Distracted by the toys, which seemed to be stuffed animals and a single puzzle, Tommy didn’t notice the door closing behind him until he heard the gentle noise of the lock clicking into place.

He… hadn’t expected to be locked in. It made Tommy feel nervous all over again and reminded him of the reason why he felt anxious in the first place. The imperial family wanted to hurt Dream because of Tommy. Tommy had to get to work. He wasn’t planning on leaving the room tonight anyway, so it was just fine if he was locked in. They would unlock the door in the morning.

They had to.

… They had to.

Tommy swallowed thickly, and turned to the bags, counting how many there were. He counted five and had to take a deep breath, pressing a hand to his stomach.

Tommy could turn two bags into straw, and then his magic would feel weird and he would get sick.

Five bags were way too many.

Five bags was the amount he needed to do in order to save Dream.

He didn’t have a choice. Maybe if he went really slowly and took breaks in between, it would be okay and Tommy wouldn’t feel too sick. He wouldn’t throw up this time, or fall to the ground, or hurt all over in ways he hated hurting.

There was only one way to find out.

Tommy took the first strand of straw and turned it into a brilliant, lustrous gold.

Chapter Text

Though Tommy desperately wanted to move off the cold floor, and knew there was a much more comfortable bed not far away, he couldn’t bring himself even to try sitting up.

He felt too tired. His entire body was heavy, anchored to the ground where he lay. Even lifting a single arm would be hard, let alone forcing his whole body to stand up. 

It was impossible — a distant dream.

So instead, Tommy drifted.

He wasn’t quite asleep, but he wasn’t awake either. The world was blurry whenever he blinked his eyes open for a moment, and his head felt heavy like it was stuffed full of cotton. The cotton made his thoughts move slowly, and he had a hard time remembering why he felt so achy, or why he was on the floor. Had he upset Dream?

It made sense. It would explain the way his body burned cold like ice was flooding through his veins. It would explain the nasty, sour taste in his mouth, and the smokey flicker of his magic, a single breath away from going out. It would explain what he thought he could see when he tried to force his vision to focus - a few strands of straw, not far from his face.

If he upset Dream, it was best to try to get as much rest as he could before Dream needed him again. Tommy shivered and continued to drift.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed before something new broke him away from his distant, muddled existence - something loud.

There was a slamming noise, which Tommy immediately recognized as his door being thrown open so hard that it collided with the wall. Then, there were footsteps, and a sharp, angry voice. “Tommy? Tommy!” the voice called out. It didn’t sound like Dream, but Tommy flinched anyway, forcing his eyes carefully open.

He just managed to open his eyes in time to see someone kneeling in front of him, arms reaching for him.

Instinctively, Tommy tried to jerk away, a small whine rising in his throat and turning audible.

It didn’t stop him from being grabbed, though the hands had briefly twitched back at the sound. Nonetheless, the hands snaked around his shoulders, and then he was being moved and adjusted, pulled into the person's lap. The position finally allowed him to see just who it was that was man-handling him, and Tommy felt his heart drop as he blinked tiredly up at Prince Wilbur.

Oh. Right. He wasn’t home. Dream wasn’t anywhere close by.

He had been… what had he been doing, again?

Tommy blinked at Wilbur, and offered him a small smile, each movement sluggish. Wilbur didn’t return his smile. The Prince looked very, very upset. His lips were apart, exposing his gleaming, sharp tusks, and his sloped ears were twitching, over and over. Pressed up against his chest, Tommy could hear a low, angry growl, rumbling into the air.

“... W’as wron?” Tommy groaned. The effort it took to move his lips and form words was monumental.

The growling, rumbling feeling grew. Wilbur adjusted him again, drawing him closer to his chest, so Tommy wasn’t touching the ground. In this new position, Tommy’s head was pressed up against where Wilbur’s heart was, and Tommy could hear it thumping extremely fast. “Tommy,” Wilbur said. “Tommy.”

Tommy waited for Wilbur to tell him what was wrong - maybe he could help fix it - but Wilbur just kept saying his name. At some point, he leaned down and rubbed his mouth and chin over the top of Tommy’s head and started making odd chuffing sounds.

If Tommy weren’t exhausted, and frozen, he would tell Wilbur off for being confusing and not clearly stating what was wrong. How was Tommy meant to help, if Wilbur just kept saying his name? It didn’t provide any new information! Wilbur, learn to communicate!

Tommy pressed his head into Wilbur’s chest and closed his eyes. Listening to Wilbur’s heartbeat was nice, even if it was a little fast.

Sometime later, more footsteps entered the room, and someone else joined them. Tommy only realized when he felt a hand on his face, brushing his hair from his eyes. Immediately, Tommy opened his eyes again, ready to tense up and squirm away - only, this new person was Technoblade.

He didn’t seem happy either. He was showing his tusks off just like Wilbur, and he kept looking over Wilbur’s shoulder and growling even louder than Wilbur was. There were some odd, bright red stains on his face and hands, and some of the substance had even splattered on his clothing. Tommy squinted at the stains, trying to figure out what it was. It unsettled him, but he couldn't focus through the fog in his mind, so the answer slipped away. Whatever it was, Technoblade was getting it on his face as he kept petting him.

I’m not a dog, Tommy wanted to complain, but all he could manage was, “na’ a ‘og…”

Distantly, he heard someone speaking. “ - to a doctor,” the voice said, urgently.

Technoblade growling rose in volume, and he shifted closer to Tommy and Wilbur. Wilbur leaned over Tommy, cutting off his view of everything else. The prince was still making those odd chuffing noises. It must have been a hybrid thing, so Tommy politely ignored it.

“ - instincts -”

“- violent -”

“- see all the gold? How is that even -”

“- the little one -”

“- get the Emperor -”

“- already killed -”

Thumpthumpthump, went Wilbur’s heart. Thumpthumpthump.

Despite the mess he was making on Tommy’s skin, Technoblade’s hand felt warm, and Tommy sluggishly tilted his head into the touch, deciding to ignore those other voices. Whoever was speaking, it seemed like they were staying away, so they probably weren’t a danger to Tommy or either of the princes.

So, again, Tommy let go…

Until a third person decided to interrupt. This time when Tommy forced his heavy eyes open, he felt distinctly annoyed, an unhappy grumble voicing his complaint. At the sound, Wilbur’s grip on him shifted and tightened. He rubbed his face over Tommy’s hair again, harder this time, his chuffs lowering in their pitch, while Technoblade cupped his face more firmly and growled louder.

“Everyone get out,” Phil’s voice broke through the whispers, startlingly clear. “Now.” There was a darkness to his voice, a subtle warning that sent a shiver down Tommy’s back. The chattering, annoying voices had abruptly ceased at Phils’ arrival, likely scattering at the demand on their Emperor.

For a long moment, no one moved - and then Phil approached, footsteps heavy on the ground.

Technoblade shifted, his hand lifting from Tommy’s face, and then he was gone.

There was a grunt, heavy footsteps, and then a high-pitched growl, before Phil said, “ Technoblade Minecraft. Don’t you dare growl at me, you know better.”

Tommy shuddered. The way Phil said Technoblade's name was awful - his voice was sharp like the blade of a sword, and dripping with confidence. He spoke the way someone spoke when they weren't used to being disobeyed. When they knew, that even if someone tried to disobey them, it would only end badly for that someone. He spoke like Dream spoke, when he snapped Tommy's name, ordered him around, or shoved him to the floor.

If the way Phil had spoken to the chattering onlookers was unsettling, the way he said Technoblade’s name was downright terrifying.

Something in Tommy's brain - some primitive, prey-like part of him - woke up, panicked and expecting pain. The sudden adrenaline and fear were enough for Tommy to choke on it, suddenly thrashing hard in Wilbur's arms and bursting into tears. Let me go, he wanted to scream. Let me go, I need to get away.

He was so tired of being scared, and everything was so confusing because his body still hurt and he couldn’t think clearly! He had been lying on the cold floor for so long before Wilbur came and made things a bit nicer, but now Phil was angry and ready to hurt them. He was going to hurt Tommy. He was definitely going to hurt Tommy.

Tommy hiccuped, bawled, and clung to Wilbur as hard as he could. Which wasn’t very hard, since his arms weren’t listening to him, and his hands wouldn’t close to hold onto Wilbur the way Tommy was trying to get them to.

Wilbur was chuffing, like he had been all along, though it seemed more desperate now, off-beat and stuttered. Tommy couldn’t even hear Wilbur’s heartbeat anymore over his tears and Wilbur’s comforting noises, and that realization brought an entire new rush of anxiety and fear with it as Tommy cried harder and tried to push his head into Wilbur’s chest to listen.

“Wilbur,” Phil cooed, “give him to me.”

Technoblade had seemed angry with Phil, but Wilbur didn’t seem to share that same anger, because he immediately shoved Tommy into Phil’s arms.

It was, in Tommy’s opinion, one of the worst betrayals he had ever experienced. He couldn’t even struggle. All he could do was cry, shake, try to move his body, and fail as he only twitched and shifted minutely despite his best attempts.

He waited to be hurt. It was all he could ever do when threatened. Wait for it to start, and wait for it to end.

“Shhhh,” Phil murmured, bundling Tommy close to his chest. Darkness fell around him, and Tommy could feel something soft blanketing him all over. “Shhhh, you’re alright. Everything is fine, and you’re perfectly safe. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. We won’t let them, I promise.”

Phil kept speaking, not pausing for even a moment. It was a stream of comforting promises, as Phil promised safety, warmth, protection, and healing, in a steady, even tone of voice. He spoke as though he planned to deliver, with no doubt that he would be able to.

It took Tommy sometime before he registered any of it. He kept waiting for pain. He kept waiting for that dark, silky feeling around him to fall away so that it could be replaced by something sharp and biting and cold. He expected it until he felt even more exhausted than he had before, too tired to even cry or try to struggle away anymore. Only then, did Phil’s words start to filter through the thick, dense fog in his mind. Tommy sorted through them until they made sense.

The words made sense, the sentences made sense, but the meaning behind what Phil was saying…

“There you go,” Phil said, encouraging. “You’re doing great. Keep breathing like that - a little deeper, do you think you can manage deeper breaths? Let it really fill up your lungs… you’re doing such a good job, Tommy. I’m proud of you. You’re safe. I’m here. Techno and Wil are here too, they’re so worried about you. They want you to be safe, and comfortable.”

He had been safe and comfortable with Technoblade and Wilbur. He remembered sleeping in their bed, in the warmth and the quiet. Why hadn’t Tommy slept there last night? How had he ended up on this cold floor instead?

He tried to think back. He remembered slipping out from between soft, thick blankets, walking over to a large door on quiet feet. He remembered lying down, pressing his ear against the gap at the bottom of that door, to listen carefully. Tommy remembered the way the words spoken outside of that door had made him feel - the nauseous wave of horror that had descended upon him.

What had been said?

Phil promised he would be safe. Would they take him back to that place, with its warmth, and its safety?

Tommy’s eyelids felt so heavy. He had been tired, hurting, and unable to move, and all the chaos combined with his own tears hadn’t helped him feel any better. He felt worse, worn out like he had been dragged all over the place and squeezed until he burst.

Danger, a small corner of his mind insisted, screaming.

Later, Tommy decided, taking in deep breaths like Phil told him to, and letting his eyes slide shut.

I just need to rest for a bit longer.

Technoblade and Wilbur were curled up on either side of Tommy, refusing to so much as budge from their spots. Phil couldn’t blame them - the nest looked inviting, and all of his instincts were screaming at him to do the same. Tucking Tommy under his wings until the poor child had cried himself to sleep hadn’t been enough for his instincts to settle, not after the scene he had been called to.

Tommy, over-exerted, ill and cold, nearly unconscious on the ground.

Wilbur and Technoblade, lost in their instincts, one trying to comfort while the other did his best to fight and protect.

Over half of the straw Phil had ordered to be placed into the room transformed - no longer straw, but a gleaming, glowing, lustrous gold.

It seemed as though Dream hadn’t entirely been lying to him about Tommy’s powers.

It didn’t change anything.

Whether or not Tommy was magical, whether or not his powers were what Dream said they were, whether or not Dream was mistreating the boy -

None of that changed anything.

As Phil watched, Tommy shifted, rolling onto his side. Technoblade instinctively lunged towards the boy at the perceived movement away from him, while Wilbur chuffed slowly a few times, pleased. Phil hummed lowly in his throat to settle them, leaning over the side of the nest to brush back Technoblade’s hair.

Tommy was part of them, now.

It was time Phil made preparations for his continued stay.

The next time Tommy woke, his mind was much clearer, and he was in control of his body again.

That would have been great news, but when Tommy attempted to sit up, he found that bodily control didn’t mean much when there were two hybrid princes wrapped around you. In response to his attempt to move, Technoblade growled at him lowly, making Tommy freeze in place. Wilbur huffed, moving closer, squeezing Tommy with the arms wrapped entirely around him.

Tommy looked up.

Phil smiled down at them, perched on the edge of the odd, messy, blanket-covered ‘bed’ they were all on.

“I turned the straw into gold,” Tommy rasped out, voice dry and cracking. He swallowed, and continued. “You can’t hurt my family. They weren’t lying! I proved it!”

This time, Wilbur was the one who growled. When he tugged Tommy even closer and tightened his grip, it almost hurt, causing Tommy to wince. Technoblade reacted as well - only, he let go of Tommy and launched upwards to sit on his knees. “Don’t say that!” he snapped, bearing his tusks. His eyes gleamed bloody red. “You’re our little br -”

“Sush,” Phil frowned. He raised a hand, resting it on the back of Technoblade’s neck. Despite how upset and agitated the prince looked, that simple gesture seemed to be enough, because he went silent halfway through his sentence. He remained tense, however, eyes still that bright, unnatural color.

Tommy remembered what he had overheard, and shivered.

“You’re right,” Phil remarked to Tommy, “you did prove your ability. You did a very good job. Of course we can’t hurt your… family.”

For some reason, when Tommy heard the words ‘you did a very good job,’ he shivered again. Then, paying attention to the rest of what Phil said, he exhaled sharply in relief, sinking back into Wilbur’s grip with significantly less fear. Even if the princes still seemed mad, Phil’s word was above theirs, and Phil said he’d proven himself. He didn’t seem mad about it, either.

“So… so they can come get me, now?”

“Once they’re back,” Phil agreed, “which still won’t be for some time. It hasn’t been three days yet, you know.”

“.. Oh.”

“Don’t worry,” Phil crooned. “We’ll take care of you until then. You really overworked yourself, mate. You’ve made yourself sick. Have you been sick before?”

Tommy nodded, frowning.

“What did your parents do when you were sick?” Phil questioned.

Tommy grimaced. He hated being sick. Not only did he feel and smell gross, he wouldn’t be allowed to leave his bed at all except to go to the bathroom. Everything he ate was so bland, and he couldn’t eat much, because if he did he would throw it all up. The only thing that wasn’t bland was the disgusting, nasty medicine his parents would buy for him. Tommy was glad he never got sick like that with Dream. Magical exhaustion didn’t require medicine, apparently, or bed rest. Even if it did make him throw up sometimes.

He told Phil all of this.

Phil tsked, shaking his head. “Your parents had the right idea! Magical exhaustion is still an illness, so bed rest and medicine are the way to go. You’ll be good and take your medicine without arguing, won’t you?”

Tommy frowned, not particularly feeling like he wanted to be good at the moment.

However… it would be in his best interests to listen. If he really was sick, the medicine should make him feel better fast, and then Tommy would be healthy when Dream came to get him. Also, Phil would be happy with him, and his last slice of time in the castle would pass smoothly. He could still remember how scary Phil’s voice was when he got mad. He knew, now, that Phil’s angry voice hadn’t been directed at him, and he wanted to keep it that way, thanks!

With great reluctance, Tommy nodded.

“Good!” Phil crooned again, reaching for Tommy. He moved slowly, placing his hand in Tommy’s hair and ruffling the golden strands. It sent a warmth down Tommy’s spine, and he found himself leaning into the touch. Wilbur’s grip loosened, finally allowing Tommy to sit up. “Good job Tommy. I’m so happy with you.” For some reason, Tommy’s face felt hot too, and he scowled at Phil.

“... Whatever,” he grumbled. “Do I need the medicine right now?”

“That would be best,” Phil agreed, taking his hand away from Tommy’s hair. He snatched something up from beside the strange bed, lifting it into the air. It was a small glass vial and a spoon. With deft, quick movements, Phil opened the vial and poured some of the thick, purple liquid onto the spoon, which he then held out toward Tommy’s mouth.

“I can hold it myself,” Tommy complained.

“I’m just making sure it won’t spill,” Phil promised, smiling sweetly at him.

Tommy could have argued further, but he only sighed and leaned forward, closing his mouth around the spoon. He’d rather keep Phil in this smiling, complimenting mood. At the taste of the medicine, Tommy cringed, even as he forced himself to swallow it. It tasted truly disgusting, almost enough to make him gag - bitter and sharp, lingering in his mouth even as he smacked his lips a few times.

“Lay back down,” Phil urged him. He put the medicine aside and touched Tommy once more - this time, helping him lay back down on the bed, where Wilbur eagerly grabbed at him again, pulling him close. It was clear the twins were both still lost in their instincts, with how quiet they both were, combined with their nearly glowing red eyes. Tommy felt a bit bad for them and gave Wilbur a gentle pat on his arm.

Only, when Tommy brought his hand up to give him that pat, the limb felt heavy all over again, similar to when Tommy had woken up on the cold ground of his guest room. Tommy frowned at the refusal of his body to cooperate, trying again, only to miserably fail. This had to be the illness Phil was talking about, coming back full force!

“Don’t fight it,” Phil murmured, brushing some of Tommy’s hair out of his eyes. His voice sounded odd, as though it were far away, and not right next to him. “Just close your eyes, Toms. You’ll be fine. You just need to sleep for some time…”

“Runt,” Technoblade grunted, joining Tommy and Wilbur again at last. He wasn’t quite as clingy as Wilbur, seeming happy with laying next to them and throwing one arm over them both.

“M’not…” Tommy managed to slur before the darkness gathering behind his eyelids became too much, and he faded back into unconsciousness once again.

Tommy only remembered bits and pieces of his illness.

Each time he woke up, someone would be there with him.

Most often, one or both of the princes would be there. The first few times Tommy woke up, they still seemed lost in their instincts, clinging to him and refusing to budge from his side. As more time passed, they seemed to begin to relax. Technoblade would be sitting up and reading when Tommy managed to peel his eyes open, while Wilbur seemed to be scribbling away in a journal most of the time.

Still, even when busy, both would set aside whatever they were working on to fuss over Tommy. They would brush his hair, wash his face and arms with a warm cloth, make sure the blankets were tucked tightly around him, and force him to drink water or eat some food. Then, Phil would sweep in with more medicine, and Tommy would fall asleep again.

Other times, Phil would be there all along. Phil especially liked playing with his hair and feeding him. He was downright insistent about it, brushing and organizing Tommy’s hair until he was utterly satisfied, and feeding Tommy by hand, no matter Tommy’s half-hearted protests. He was starting to understand how stubborn this family was, how impossible it was to reason with them, but he still tried each time.

No matter how much he insisted he was old enough to feed himself, and not so weak he couldn’t pick up a utensil, Phil continued to feed him. The more Tommy argued, the sooner Phil would pull his medicine out with a sweet, sweet smile, insisting it was time for his next dose.

The medicine, of course, still tasted awful.

It seemed like Phil was lost in his instincts somewhat too though, since he would often chirp at Tommy, so Tommy tried to cut them some slack. Instincts sucked, everyone knew that.

As much as he tried to be patient, Tommy could only do nothing but sleep and eat for so long before his patience started to fray. Since he was sleeping so much, he didn’t even know how long it had been since he first got sick, and no one would give him a straight answer.

Whenever he asked, Wilbur would say something like, “it hasn’t been that long, you’re not better yet, are you?”

Technoblade would say, “don’t worry about it, runt. Just keep resting.”

He was done resting! He’d rested enough - more than enough - too much!

So, after who knows how long, when Phil took out the medicine and held it up to Tommy, Tommy pressed his lips together in a tight line and turned his head away, refusing. Phil chirped, lowly, a crooning sound. “Tommy,” he scolded him, lightly, “you know you need to take your medicine. You’ve been so good for us, I know you can take it.”

Wilbur wasn’t in the weird bed (which they had all been calling a ‘nest’), but Technoblade was. His book was resting on his lap, the bookmark slid between pages to save his spot, and he watched Tommy and Phil with a calm, gleaming expression. “I know it tastes bad,” Technoblade admitted, trying to help Phil convince him, “but you won’t have to take it for too much longer.”

Tommy raised a hand to cover his mouth, so he could talk without Phil taking it as permission to make him swallow the medicine. “I feel fine now!” He really did. His magic, which had been so cold and almost entirely extinguished after Tommy turned half the straw into gold, had recovered. He could feel the internal flame, hot and flickering, lively instead of stifled. “You keep saying ‘not too much longer,’ I don’t believe you anymore!”

“I know you might feel fine,” Phil agreed, “but sometimes even when we feel like we’re no longer sick, there’s still a little bit of sickness in our body that we haven’t noticed. If we don’t get all of it, then that little bit of sickness can make us really sick again. Then, you’d have to stay in the nest for even longer.”

The idea of getting sick again and staying in the nest for even longer really was a nasty idea… but, Tommy wasn’t lying when he said he felt great. Maybe Phil thought there was some sickness left, but he was definitely wrong. Tommy was really smart, so Phil should listen to him this time.

Tommy shook his head. “No. I don’t want it, there’s no sickness left. I’m so bored, I want - I want to go visit the horses again! I want to go home. Has Dream come yet?”

“... Not yet,” Phil said, fingers twitching around the spoon he held.

Technoblade put his book entirely to the side, leaning into Tommy’s space. “If you go home with Dream, you won’t be able to see Carl. So you need to pick one or the other.”

“... I guess I want to see Carl first.” Tommy wanted to say goodbye before he left. Something in his stomach clenched painfully at the thought, and he frowned, squirming in place. He would miss Carl a lot, that was all. He would miss everyone he’d met, but… he had to go home. Dream was his family.

“Good,” Technoblade grunted, not looking happy despite his words.

Phil finally moved the spoon away. “Will you at least eat something, before you go wandering off?”

“... Yes,” Tommy decided, smiled, and lowered his hand from his mouth. It seemed like he’d won the argument after all. Not that he had doubted his ability to do so. His arguing skills were top-notch.

Phil turned to fully put the medicine away. As he prepared whatever food he had for Tommy, Technoblade stole Tommy’s attention, telling him a story about Carl when he was a baby. Apparently, when Carl was small, he had a weird fear of cobs of corn. Technoblade had found it out when a servant attending to Carl had a corncob with them for their dinner, and Carl had backed away, becoming extremely skittish. At first, they weren’t sure what had scared him, but they had narrowed it down after some trial and error.

“It was ridiculous,” Technoblade snorted, “I was training him so he was used to weapons being used around him, but step near him with a cob of corn, and he’d be spooked. Could you imagine if an enemy had realized? All of a sudden all of our foes would be showing up to battle with corn, trying to get one over me.”

“But no one found out?” Tommy questioned, worried.

“He got over the weird fear when he was older,” Technoblade reassured him, waving Tommy’s concern aside. “He realized it couldn’t hurt him once he discovered how delicious it tasted.”

Tommy giggled. He could almost picture it in his mind - a tiny version of Carl, backing away from corn, and then trying to bite it aggressively, only to pause as he realized how good the vegetable really was. His ears would flick back and forth with curiosity and interest, and his fear would fade.

Was it so easy, to move on from fear?

Could it be so easily forgotten?

Tommy’s amusement faded, his mouth twisting into a small frown entirely without his permission. Technoblade straightened up, but before he could say anything, Phil was nudging a spoon towards Tommy again. This time, instead of being covered in bitter medicine, it was covered in a thick oatmeal. It must be morning, then. It was hard to keep track when all he did was sleep and there were no windows. and no one answered his questions.

Tommy opened his mind without thinking, far too used to Phil feeding him like this now, and Phil deftly slid the spoon into his mouth. The oatmeal tasted a little… weird. Normally it was much better. It still had a sweet taste, honey, and sugar, but there was an underlying bitter taste too. It wasn’t very strong, but still noticeable.

Tommy politely decided not to say anything. His manners really were the best.

“Tell me more baby Carl stories?” he questioned, hopeful.

“... Mhn, well, there was this one time he broke down the gate to his field and let an entire herd of horses loose…”

As Technoblade spoke, Phil kept feeding Tommy. It wasn’t long before Tommy started to feel exhausted, eyelids unexpectedly heavy. He kept listing to the side, struggling to stay away and hear more of Technoblade’s story. Finally, after the third or fourth time that he had almost nodded off, there was a gentle clink as Phil set the bowl aside, and Technoblade cut himself off.

Tommy opened his eyes to glare, but the prince only chuckled. “I’ll finish the story when you wake up,” he promised, “lay down, runt.”

“I’m… I’m not…” Tommy could barely even protest, as Phil reached into the nest to adjust him and make him lay back down. The older man was laughing at Tommy’s protests, making Tommy scowl and glare more. He could argue back, but he was just too tired.

Maybe he still had a little bit of recovery left to go, after all…?

With an annoyed huff, Tommy gave in to the pressure and went back to sleep.

“He was caught passing through the merchant’s roads leading away from the Kingdom,” Niki reported. She stood behind Dream, who had been forced to kneel before the thrones. The strange mask the man insisted on wearing had been taken from him, fully exposing his furious expression and the way he lightly ground his teeth together. Niki held her sword in one hand, ready to prevent any escape attempts or shows of rudeness.

From the dark bruises covering half of Dream’s face, it was clear he had already been the subject of the commander’s ire.

Phil smirked, glad. Those bruises were nothing compared to the punishment he had planned, but at least they offered Dream a small taste of what his future held.

“Oh?” he questioned, tilting his head at an angle he knew was just a touch too far for humans to be capable of. “Is that so? You seemed so sure of yourself, last time I had you here… I suppose that was all bravado.”

“Your Majesty -”

“His Majesty has not given you permission to speak,” Eret warned, their voice blank and calm from where they stood off to the side of the thrones.

Phil waited a moment, and then waved his hand, granting permission. It was all a power play. Dream wasn’t allowed to do anything without explicit permission from Phil - he couldn’t speak, or move, or even breathe. From the way Dream’s expression tightened further, eyes glinting and eyebrows drawing together, he was all too aware of that, and not pleased.

“... Your Majesty,” Dream attempted, once more, “please, let me explain. Tommy is… he’s such a difficult child, ever since his parents passed away. He’s very troubled. I had no idea if he would listen to your Majesty’s simple command, to show you his powers. So I -”

“Stop talking,” Phil suggested, and Dream’s mouth snapped shut. “Enough of your lies. Let’s hear your fellow conspirators' thoughts since I know every word that leaves your mouth will be drenched in filth.”

“... My fellow -?”

Phil waved his hands, and the guards by the entrance of the room pushed the heavy doors open. From outside the room, both Sapnap and George stepped inside. Sapnap’s chin was held high, jaw set, and shoulders tense, looking like a man walking to the executioner's block. George was curled down into himself, shoulders hunched like he wanted to disappear.

Phil had been looking forward to this moment. Dream looked stricken, eyes wide, pupils dilated. What could he be thinking? He must be awfully confused. Worried for his friends. The reality of what had happened wouldn’t have hit him yet.

“Tell me what you reported to my advisor,” Phil ordered, once the doors were closed behind the pair once more.

Sapnap swallowed and spoke steadily. “Dream took Tommy from an orphanage within the Empire, your Majesty. He kidnapped him after he heard him bragging about his powers. He was nice to Tommy at first, but the only reason was to force Tommy to use his powers to make him rich. Over time, he discovered Tommy’s powers could also be triggered by fear, and he stopped pretending to be nice. He… neglected him, and starved him. Locked him away. Insulted him constantly, and physically abused him.”

“So you decided to report him to my knights,” Phil exposed him, with no hesitance.

“... Yes, we did,” George said. He sounded exhausted, torn apart, and stripped bare. Phil felt no pity for him.

Dream was still staring, astonished. Each of his muscles were locked in place as he uselessly gaped at his friends. There was silence. Then, suddenly, Dream leapt to his feet and lunged at the friend closest to him - Sapnap. “Traitor!” he shrieked, as Niki grabbed him and threw him to the ground, kneeling on his back. Despite her smaller stature, no struggling could dislodge her as she raised her sword above Dream. Phil shook his head, slightly.

The entire time, Dream kept yelling - “you traitors! How could you do this to me, to us? After everything we’ve been through together since we were children! You know how - you know why - it was for us! Everything I did, was to provide for us! For you! So we could be happy, so we could be something! You never cared before, we’ve never been pillars of morality, so why - how could -”

“He’s just a little kid, Dream!” Sapnap finally replied. His face was pale, but his voice was loud, steady. “A little kid! There’s a difference between the shit we did, and abusing a child! I can’t… I couldn’t stand to the side and watch you do that. After everything we went through? You became the exact same as everyone who hurt us!”

“I’m not! I am not!” Dream’s yell was nearly hysterical. Phil smiled, leaning back on his throne, enjoying the show as Dream broke apart at his feet. “Don’t say that, not you, don’t you… George! George, you don’t think that, do you?”

George looked away.

Dream was struck speechless, staring at his two friends from the floor. To Phil’s delight, the man started to blink frantically, clearly trying not to cry. It was so pathetic.

“I’ve heard enough. Niki, bring him to the dungeons and lock him away. No need to provide him with any nourishment or necessity, since he didn’t think a child needed them,” Phil ordered. Niki nodded, stepping off of Dream and dragging him to his feet. Dream attempted to thrash away, once, but Niki twisted his shoulders back, and Dream gave in with a hoarse shout of pain.

“... Dream,” Sapnap said, quickly. He must have realized these would be his last words to his dear, childhood friend. “I… thank you. I’ll… miss you.”

“... Goodbye, Dream,” George mumbled to the ground. His fingers were digging so tightly into his arms, that he must have drawn blood.

“Fuck you,” Dream spat, “I hope you both rot in hell.” His words spoke of anger, but his expression spoke of despair and pain much deeper.

Niki dragged him from the throne room, and all was quiet.

“... Eret,” Phil said, glancing at his advisor. Eret turned towards him, bowing their head respectfully. “Have our… guests… informed you about where they intend to go now?”

“George stated he’ll be leaving the Empire,” Eret reported, evenly, “while Sapnap will be remaining. He’s planning to move in with Karl, the seer.”

“... Very well,” Phil agreed. He fixated his gaze on the two remaining citizens. “Allow me to be perfectly clear. The only reason the two of you aren’t following your friend down into the dungeons is because you reported this mess, and delivered Tommy to me. Additionally, I understand neither of you ever laid a hand on him. However, I’m not happy with the two of you for how long you stood to the side before reporting this… if I ever see you again, if you ever approach Tommy again, what I’ll do to Dream will look like nothing compared to the ways I’ll carve you apart. Am I understood?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” the two chimed in sync, bowing their heads.

“Then leave.”

They scuttled from the throne room like the rats they were.

Phil took a moment to collect himself and then got to his feet.

Now that Dream was dealt with, he supposed there was no need to keep his new son drugged up so nicely and tucked away in his nest anymore, even if he would miss how sweet and sleepy it made the child. Still, there was no time to waste. Tommy would need clothing, toys, tutors, and much, much more… Phil had only just started preparing, he would be busy for a while yet.

Excitement burned in Phil’s veins. Oh, how he missed having a baby chick to fuss over.

Tommy deserved a proper family, anyway.

Chapter Text

“Where’s Dream?”

“Why’s he late?”

“Can’t Sapnap or George pick me up?”

“When will he be here?”

“How many more hours?”

“How many more days?”

Even if Tommy hadn’t been fully recovered from his illness before, he knew he was fine now. He’d been sick forever, and if he spent one more day in the nest, he might crack and go insane. Luckily, such dire events didn’t occur, since Phil seemed to realize Tommy was better too, and finally gave him permission to leave the nest.

Just not alone. Tommy always had one of the twins, or Phil himself, hovering over his shoulder.

It might have annoyed him once, but now, after spending so much time alone, locked up in his room at Dream’s… it was nice. It also gave Tommy plenty of chances to ask questions about his family, since for some weird reason, they were late picking him up, and no one would give him a straight answer about it. It made him feel nervous that Phil and his people had hurt Dream, Sapnap, and George, but Phil said he wouldn’t. So that couldn’t be it.

Today, the target of his endless questions was Wilbur, who looked at his wit's end as he was prevented from playing his guitar again by Tommy’s interruption. “Toms,” he said, his tone still remarkably patient despite the irritation clear in the furrow of his brow, “I don’t know. Why don’t you keep working on your puzzle? Have you figured out what the picture is of, yet?”

“It’s just a boring field,” Tommy complained, glancing back at the puzzle Wilbur had brought for him. He’d followed Wilbur’s instructions and started with separating the middle pieces and the edge pieces. He’d even put all of the edge pieces together, and some of the middle pieces! All it revealed so far, however, was a boring, green field, and a sunny, blue sky.

Wilbur smiled sweetly at him, idly strumming his guitar. “Is it?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “... Yes.”

“Are you sure? ” Wilbur pressed. “How do you know? You barely put any of the center pieces together. There could be something there you haven’t seen yet.”

Tommy glanced back at the puzzle, reluctantly intrigued. Was there something he hadn’t seen yet? Abandoning Wilbur’s side, he went to kneel back beside the puzzle and focused once more and making the pieces fit together.

About ten minutes later, Wilbur’s music was broken by a sharp gasp. However, this time, when Wilbur looked up at the interruption, there were no signs of any irritation in his gaze. He only looked fond. “Wilbur!” Tommy yelled, abandoning the puzzle once more to hop over to the teenager's side. “Wil, there’s cows and - and a rabbit, and a pig, and - so many animals!”

“Really?” Wilbur asked, sounding entirely unsurprised. “Wow!”

“Come look,” Tommy whined.

Wilbur set his guitar aside and went over to look. At Tommy’s urging, he helped the younger boy complete the rest of the puzzle, both of them crossed-legged on the ground. It didn’t take too long. There weren’t too many pieces, the puzzle having been made for a child, and with Wilbur’s help, they figured out which of the remaining pieces matched easily.

Tommy fawned over the completed picture, beaming with joy. He could feel his magic, that internal flame, spark, jumping like it had been doused in fuel. His magic had been very tired after he’d been sick, but now that he was better, it was getting stronger with each day.

“Do you have any more puzzles?” Tommy asked, hopefully.

To his disappointment, Wilbur shook his head and got to his feet. “No, but we don’t have time to make another puzzle. It’s lunch. If we’re late, Techno is going to come looking for us.”

“Is Phil eating with us today?”

“Mhn.” Wilbur nodded. When he extended his hand to Tommy, Tommy took it, letting Wilbur pull him to his feet. Eating with the royal family was another part of his day that Tommy had grown used to. It was another thing he liked. Sitting around the table, talking about this and that while they ate… it reminded Tommy of what it was like when he lived with his parents before they passed.

Wilbur didn’t let go of Tommy’s hand, even though Tommy could stand on his own. Instead, he threaded their fingers together, and tugged lightly, leading Tommy out of the room and into the hallways. They had been spending time in one of the many libraries in the castle. That library, in particular, was Technoblade’s private library. Wilbur liked to hide in there to practice his music sometimes. No one else was allowed in, though.

Not until Tommy came along. Tommy grinned, delighted at the unique, special feeling that brought him.

They made it all the way to the dining hall before Tommy remembered his still unanswered questions. Wilbur always said he didn’t know and distracted him! Technoblade would just grunt and refuse to answer until Tommy distracted himself, and Phil would answer, but for some reason, Tommy would be even more confused than before he asked. He felt like Phil spoke in circles, sometimes.

As Tommy silently fumed about Wilbur’s most recent slippery, tricky ways, Wilbur plopped him down in his usual seat and sat himself. They were the last ones to arrive. Technoblade’s plate was already full, as was Phil’s. As Tommy sat, Phil leaned over to start putting food on his plate for him, too.

“Tommy,” Phil questioned, “can you remind me about the new rules we told you about when we’re eating meals?”

Tommy sighed, feeling like he didn’t want to remind Phil. Shouldn’t Phil be able to remember his own rules without Tommy reminding him? But, if Tommy wanted Phil to answer his questions, then he should try to put Phil in a good mood. Also, Phil was really old, so it was possible he was becoming a bit forgetful in his old age.

“Yes,” Tommy replied, “you need to use the knife to push the food onto the fork if you’re having a hard time picking it up with the fork… and you can’t touch the food with your hands, no matter what you’re eating. And you need to put everything down gently, you can’t bang things. Um…”

“Good job,” Phil complimented, making Tommy’s cheeks flush. “Go on, let’s see you put all those rules into practice. If you do well, you can have an extra cookie for dessert.”

Oh! Tommy started eating, taking care to follow all the rules he’d just listed. The cookies they made at the castle tasted better than any cookies Tommy had ever tasted, and normally, Phil only let him have one. As he started eating, Technoblade spoke up, asking simply, “runt, what did you get up today?”

Runt, unfortunately, meant Tommy.

Technoblade was really cool, and hadn’t yet realized how cool Tommy was too. That was okay. He’d learn eventually.

It was a normal question, and whenever someone asked Tommy, he tended to go off on a whole speech about how his day had been. This time, he kept his answer short, no matter how much he wanted to talk about his new puzzle. He had higher priorities. “Good. When’s my family coming to get me?”

Technoblade dropped his fork, and it clanged against his plate. Tommy shot him a disapproving stare. Hadn’t he heard Tommy, when he said the rule about putting things down gently? That hadn’t been gentle at all. But, accidents happened, so Tommy politely didn’t say anything, and turned to stare at Phil instead.

Phil’s expression was complicated as they made eye contact, his wings shifting relentlessly as they stared each other down. “... Why don’t we talk about this when we’re finished eating,” Phil decided.

“You’re trying to distract me,” Tommy accused because he was smart.

Dream would get mad at a comment like that, and yell at Tommy for his ‘sass,’ but Phil just smiled at him. “I promise we can talk about it when you’re done eating. It’s not a topic we can avoid forever.”

Tommy hesitated, trying to decide if he was okay with that or not. Phil was right though. It wasn’t a topic that could be avoided forever… so maybe Tommy could believe him for now. But, if Phil still refused to give him an answer after they finished eating, then Tommy would be pushed to measures outside of his control. He would have to do something drastic.

Luckily, the rest of the meal was relatively uneventful. Tommy got the chance to talk about his new puzzle, Phil promised to get him some more puzzles if he liked them that much, Technoblade picked his fork back up, and Tommy zoned out and started playing with his food when the topics drifted into boring, political areas. Then, he stopped playing with his food, because that was another rule, and he wanted an extra cookie.

Once the meal finally ended, Phil seemed happy enough with Tommy’s manners, since he fulfilled his promise and gave Tommy two cookies. Tommy wasted no time scarfing them down, delighted by the sugary taste on his tongue.

His stomach felt so comfortably full, and warm. Even now, it was still a marvel at times to feel that way, and Tommy settled back in his seat, feeling pleased and a bit tired after the good meal.

He didn’t forget his goal though, and expectantly turned to stare Phil down some more, kicking his foot gently against the leg of his chair. “You promised we could talk about my family now… so, when are they coming?”

Phil's expression was gentle. The table had already been cleared off by their servants, and there was no one in the room other than Phil, Tommy, and the twin princes, so Phil leaned forward against the table, tapping his fingers idly against the blue tablecloth. “Tommy. I want you to listen to me as well as you can, no matter what emotions you might be feeling, okay? I promise I’ll answer all of your questions.

“... Okay,” Tommy replied, feeling a bit anxious, despite Phil’s even, calm tone, and the continued gentle expression on his face.

Technoblade stood from his chair, moving to stand behind Tommy. Tommy cast him a nervous glance, but Technoblade just looked down, fiddling with a few strands of his hair idly, so Tommy turned his focus back on Phil. Wilbur was quiet, where he sat, and no one paid him any mind.

With his agreement given, Phil nodded and began. “Tommy, Dream, and his friends… your family. They weren’t treating you well.”

That nervousness exploded into something far worse. Tommy immediately felt himself sliding down in his seat, folding himself up like he was trying to look smaller. His stomach, which had been so warm and full just moments before, was twisted, and he felt sick. “... That’s not… that’s not true! They love me.”

“Okay,” Phil agreed, not arguing his point. “Love is very important.”

“It is! I love them too.”

“So let’s talk about things other than love,” Phil continued, “okay? Tommy… did Dream like spending time with you?”

“Yes!” Tommy spat, clinging to his answer with everything he had. Of course, Dream liked spending time with him. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken him in. He wouldn’t have given him gifts, and said nice things to him - and maybe he’d done those things less later on, but that was when Tommy wasn’t providing for the family, or when Dream was busy.

Phil still didn’t argue with him, even as Tommy’s breathing grew odd and uneven, and he felt like he was gasping, more than breathing. Tommy slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to get his body under control. No one is going to hurt me, he tried to tell himself. It didn’t help.

“Tommy,” Phil coaxed, “take a deep breath for me. Can you do that?” Phil took in a few deep breaths, trying to demonstrate, but Tommy shook his head frantically, refusing. He was upset. He didn’t want to take deep breaths. “Shhh, Toms, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

Wilbur must have moved while Tommy was panicking, because Tommy suddenly became aware of him, crouching next to Tommy’s chair, his eyes focused on Tommy. Wilbur joined in with his father’s attempts to comfort him, placing a hand lightly on Tommy’s arm, and rubbing gently, up and down. “It’s okay,” he echoed Phil. “Everything is fine. We’re just worried about you.”

They were worried about him?

Tommy could feel the smallest slivers of his fear and panic disappear. He was still unable to breathe, he still felt sick to his stomach, but it was a change. It made a difference.

“Tommy,” Wilbur continued, “we want to understand what happened between Dream and you. Did Dream know about your powers, when he took you from the orphanage?”

“... Yes. He - he believed me. No one believed me. Everyone thought I was - I was lying. Even… even you.”

Wilbur’s expression crumbled, at that. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, shocked into silence, and Phil took over again. “Tommy, I’m sorry we didn’t believe you right away. That was very wrong of us.” He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t say but, or you have to understand . He didn’t try to defend his mistake. He just left it at that.

“That must have meant a lot to you,” Wilbur said, voice quiet now. “To have someone believe you.”

Tommy nodded and sniffed. He must have started crying sometime during this session of questioning because he suddenly noticed his cheeks were wet with tears. He raised a hand to wipe at one cheek, but before he could touch his face, Technoblade grabbed his wrist from behind, produced a handkerchief out of nowhere, and moved around the side of his chair to wipe his face for him.

He was gentle, moving the handkerchief lightly, and with careful motions over Tommy’s cheeks and around his eyes. Tommy stared at him, Technoblade blurry through the sheen of tears still in his eyes. When he blinked, those tears fell, too, and the prince was quick to wipe them away with that same care.

Oh.

“But Tommy,” Wilbur said. Tommy felt his heart stutter at that word. But. “I know Dream… loves you. That he spends time with you. But when does he act like he loves you? When does he spend time with you? Is it when you’re making gold for him?”

Tommy stared at Wilbur, stricken to silence.

Only for a moment, though. Tommy couldn’t bear staying quiet for long. “So what? What… what are you trying to tell me?”

Wilbur hesitated and peeked over at his father. Tommy followed his gaze. Phil’s wings were tense behind him, twitching, and he was standing now. When Tommy made eye contact with him, Phil instantly smiled at him. “What Wilbur is trying to say… is that, it might be possible, that Dream was just using you so you’d make gold for him. That even if you thought of Dream as family, he might not have thought of you the same way,” Phil said, quietly.

It made a horrible, crushing sort of sense, even as Tommy began to frantically shake his head.

Throughout all the awful, crushing feelings he felt, Tommy didn’t feel a hint of surprise. Some part of him had known this already. Some part of him had known for a long time.

Why else would Dream have changed so much, once he had Tommy producing gold for him all the time? Why would he treat him nicely sometimes, to coax him into making gold, and then throw Tommy into his room to lock him away as soon as he had the gold in his hand? Why had he only taken Tommy in, when he learned about Tommy's powers, and Tommy had demonstrated said powers for him?

If he loved Tommy, why would he give him away so easily?

No one, Tommy thought, his heart sinking, an odd, numbness filling him, I have no one. No family. No love. It was all a lie.

I loved him. I really, really did.

Why… why would you do this to me? Why was I so unlovable? What about me, is wrong? Tell me, please, just tell me, and I’ll change. I’ll fix it.

Tommy was crying too much for Technoblade to keep up with now, and he leaned back, trying to push Technoblade’s hands away. “D… Dream … is Dream … coming back for me?”

“No,” Phil said. “I’m sorry. Tommy - oh, Tommy, it will be okay. You’ll see. You can stay here with us.”

“What?” Tommy choked out. He had been able to track his emotions before now and understand somewhat what going on, but now, he was feeling too much, all at once. Even he couldn’t understand any of it. It was just waves of tangled, twisted emotions, and he could feel himself drowning under it all.

“We would really like for you to be part of our family,” Phil said, softly.

It was a massive whiplash.

Tommy froze, his breath hitching mid-sob. The words didn't register at first - they couldn’t. They felt too big, too impossible.

“What?” he whispered, repeating that word a second time, his voice cracking on the single syllable.

Phil’s wings twitched, softer this time like he was trying to hold himself steady. “You heard me, mate,” he said, his voice low and careful, like he was speaking to someone fragile. “We want you to stay here. To be part of this family. Wilbur, Techno, me - we want you with us.”

Tommy’s gaze darted from Phil to Wilbur, who was watching him with the same intensity as before, but now there was something softer in his eyes. Then to Technoblade, who gave him a single nod.

“I…” Tommy’s voice broke, his throat too tight to get the words out. He scrambled to say something, anything, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and confusion and - was that hope? No, it couldn’t be.

“What do you mean?” he managed. “You don’t - you don’t even know me.”

Wilbur stepped closer, his voice low but steady. “We do, Tommy. At least… we know enough. We know you’ve been through so much… and you’ve been hurt. And we know you’re strong, stronger than anyone has ever given you credit for. We know you love animals. We know you love good food and extra sweets. We know you’re so, very precious, and you would be a perfect addition to our family.”

“Strong?” Tommy laughed, the sound hollow and wet with tears. “I’m not strong. I’m just - I’m just useful. That’s why Dream wanted me, right? But then I wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t make him happy.”

“That’s not on you,” Technoblade said sharply, his tone cutting through the room. “Dream’s a manipulative idiot. That’s not your fault, and it never was. You don’t need to be good enough for him. ”

Tommy flinched, staring at the floor, his shoulders hunched like he was bracing for a blow. “Why would you want me, then?” he muttered. “Why would anyone want me?”

Phil stepped closer, finally leaving his spot entirely. Instead, he crouched so he was at eye level with Tommy. His voice was impossibly gentle. “We already do. You don’t have to prove anything. You don’t have to change. Just let us take care of you for a while, yeah?”

It wasn’t possible. Tommy couldn’t believe it. He really couldn’t - he couldn’t afford to believe it, he couldn’t fall for all of this a second time. He was barely surviving the first. He shook his head.

“No?” Wilbur echoed, softly.

“Just… just send me back to the or - orphanage,” Tommy stuttered out, trying to force the words through the returning nausea, and the devastating agony of his head. It was what Dream had always threatened him with, and it always made Tommy do what he wanted. For Tommy to be suggesting it now was strange; but there were worse pains than the orphanage. Tommy knew that now.

Phil clicked his tongue. “... We can’t do that, Tommy.”

“Why? You’re the Emperor. You can do… do anything.”

“We won’t,” Phil corrected his earlier words. “We told you. You’re the perfect addition to our family. Even if you don’t believe it now, I promise you will with some time. You’ll be happy eventually.”

Huh? Tommy stared at him, cheeks sticky, feeling dumbfounded in disbelief. What did that mean? His head spun. Phil wouldn’t send him back, even if Tommy asked him to? They would keep him in their castle anyway, to continue treating him the same way? With kindness, and gifts, and food, and…

“You can’t!” Tommy burst out.

“I’m the Emperor,” Phil reminded him. “I can do anything. It really is okay, you’ll see.”

I can’t. I can’t do this again. “You’re the same as Dream,” Tommy suddenly spat. “You just want me for my powers. I can make the Empire rich… so rich, you all love gold… that’s why you want me. For the gold, not for me!”

Wilbur stiffened, his expression darkening. His hand curled into a fist at his side, trembling slightly, though his voice remained steady, almost too calm. “Tommy,” he said, “you are the most precious thing in this castle. Not gold. Not jewels. You.”

Tommy glared at him, his chest heaving with sharp, uneven breaths. “Don’t lie to me!” he snapped. “You don’t - you don’t mean that. No one does! Dream said - he said things like that too, but he just wanted the gold. That’s all anyone ever wants from me!”

Technoblade let out a low growl, his red eyes narrowing. “Do you think we need your gold, runt? Do you know how much we’ve already got? We don’t want it. If it makes you this upset, I don’t ever want to see another speck of it.”

Tommy froze, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a response. But before he could say anything, Phil got up from the ground, standing straight. “A misunderstanding like this is poison to a family,” he announced, “so let’s clear this up now, so it won’t have any time to fester. Technoblade, would you mind carrying Tommy?”

“What? No! Let me go!” Tommy yelled as Technoblade scooped him up like he weighed nothing. He kicked and squirmed, but the piglin hybrid didn’t so much as flinch.

As Phil turned and walked out of the dining hall, Wilbur and Technoblade followed closely behind him. Technoblade kept Tommy held to his chest, while Wilbur hovered close to them both, staring at Tommy unblinkingly. 

“Put me down! You’re insane!” Tommy shouted, pounding his fists against Technoblade’s chest.

“Stop struggling,” Technoblade grunted. “You’ll understand in a second.”

Wilbur’s jaw was set, and Phil’s wings flared out slightly, the feathers shimmering with an eerie, dark light. Technoblade’s steps were heavy and determined.

It didn’t take long for Tommy to understand where they were going. Even if the castle was huge, this was a location Tommy had been to many times before. It was the place it had all started - the room of straw, that Tommy had never really finished fully transforming into gold, not after he overused his powers and became sick as a result.

As they approached that room, Tommy felt the fear return. Instead of hitting Technoblade’s chest, he curled his hands into the fabric there instead, clinging tightly. Was this it? Would they lock him in now, and insist he transforms the rest of the straw into gold, too? His hands trembled, uncontrollably. He felt exhausted and abruptly wanted to return to the nest.

They reached the room of gold. Tommy looked over the contents. It was just as he’d left them. Half piles of straw, half gleaming strands of pure gold. It had been left, undefended, but of course, no one was stupid enough to try stealing from the Emperor. Technoblade set Tommy down but kept a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him from bolting.

“Look around, Tommy,” Technoblade said, his voice low and steady. “We don’t need more of this. We don’t care about this.”

“If it’s hurting you,” Phil agreed, “we’ll get rid of it all.”

Tommy blinked at him, wide-eyed and trembling. “You - you’re lying,” he whispered. “You don’t mean that. You can’t just get rid of it. It’s… it’s everything to you, isn’t it? It’s gold.”

Phil stepped forward, his hand glowing with a strange, dark energy that seemed to hum in the air. “Watch me,” he said quietly.

He reached out, his fingertips brushing against a pile of gold. Instantly, the gold began to corrode. Black spread like spilled ink over each of the strands surface, until the strands began to crumble into dust. Phil moved his hand over another pile, and the same thing happened. One by one, the mounds of gold began to disintegrate under his touch, turning the once-rich room into a barren, ashen wasteland. He even repeated the process with the straw, so that Tommy had nothing left to transform.

Tommy stared, his heart pounding. “Stop,” he said weakly. “You’re - what are you doing?”

“We’re proving a point,” Wilbur said firmly. “If this gold is going to make you think we’re anything like Dream, then we don’t want it. None of it matters if it hurts you.”

Phil knelt down in front of Tommy again, his voice soft but unyielding. “You don’t have to make gold for us. Ever. Not even once. You’re not here because of what you can do, Tommy. You’re here because of who you are. And we’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you.”

Tommy’s legs gave out, and he sank to the ground, staring at the piles of ash that had once been treasure. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t understand.

“Why?” he croaked. “Why would you… why would you do that? For me?”

“Because you’re worth more than all the gold in the world,” Technoblade said simply.

Wilbur crouched beside him, placing a tentative hand on his back. “You don’t have to believe us yet,” he said gently. “But we’re not going anywhere. We’ll keep showing you, for as long as it takes.”

Tommy buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with fresh sobs. This time, though, they weren’t entirely born of despair. There was something else, something small and fragile but undeniably present.

Hope.

“You know,” Phil commented, quietly, as he carried Tommy back to his nest. Tommy slumped bonelessly against his chest, the tears on his face finally dry, utterly worn out from all his crying and emotions. Even if it was only just after lunch, when Phil declared it was time for a nap, Tommy hadn’t argued one bit. “I know magic, too.”

“I know,” Tommy muttered. As if he could forget the display he just saw. He wondered if the decaying ability Phil had used was his original, special ability. The way his magic introduced itself, the strongest ability he would ever have, should be almost effortless to him.

“How much do you know about magic?”

“Some. George taught me.” Before he gave up on me , Tommy didn’t say.

“I can teach you,” Phil offered. “From now on. There are lots of ways to use magic, mate. You can do more with it than just turn straw into gold.”

Tommy suspected he would normally be extremely excited about that offer. He still felt excited, he just couldn’t quite work up the energy needed to cheer about it now. Still, he nodded, and smiled, inwardly wondering what sort of amazing feats he could spin with the training of the Emperor himself. Maybe he could even fight a dragon!

“Neither of us has magic,” Wilbur commented, making Tommy jump. He’d forgotten that the princes were still with them. “Our dear Emperor has probably wanted someone to pass his talents onto for ages. So this works out well for everyone.” Technoblade grunted in agreement, and Tommy felt his cheeks flush.

He knew what point they were trying to get at, since he was so smart and intelligent. They were still pushing on about how Tommy was ‘perfect’ for their family.

Tommy didn’t say anything else as they made it the rest of the way to the nest, and Phil deposited him gently in the weird bed. Tommy was used to sleeping there after his illness though, and he easily got comfortable, slumping down into the warmth. Before he could even close his eyes, Technoblade and Wilbur slipped into the nest too, and Tommy cast them a confused look.

“Are you tired too?”

“Mhn. Piglins like to sleep with their pack,” Wilbur explained, and Tommy abruptly felt his cheeks flush all over again. In his chest, the flame of his magic burned brightly, with lovelovelove.

Tommy ducked his head, cheeks burning. “Your pack?”

Wilbur grinned. “It’s a piglin thing. When we form a bond we sleep close. Keeps everyone safe and warm.”

“Warm,” Tommy murmured, his voice barely audible. His chest felt tight again, but this time, it wasn’t in a bad way.

Technoblade shifted closer, the nest creaking. “You’re part of the pack now, runt.”

Wilbur draped an arm over Tommy’s shoulders, and Phil’s wings tucked around the nest as he settled at the edge. "We’ve got you," Phil said softly.

Tommy didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away. As warmth surrounded him, his eyes fluttered shut, and for the first time in a long time, he felt safe.

His magic pulsed in his chest, steady and bright. Finally, he felt like he belonged.

Chapter Text

A month after Tommy started living with Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade, he knew he would never be able to go back to life without them.

It was everything he had ever dreamed of, if not better.

Phil gave Tommy so much. He gave him his own room, full of clothes, and toys, and books. It even had a little balcony that Tommy could go out onto for fresh air. He hired tutors specifically to teach him all manners of things - nice tutors, who were nothing like George, who had eventually gave up on him. These tutors were patient with him, and kind, and they made learning into something Tommy came to view as fun.

Phil introduced Tommy to some of the staff so that Tommy knew who to go to if he needed help and one of his new ‘family’ members wasn’t around. Tommy had already known Eret, but it was nice to see them again. Eret was one of the first people who had been nice to Tommy in the castle, and Tommy didn’t forget that. It was also nice to meet Niki, who was one of Phil’s army commanders. Despite her intimidating title, she had been very sweet to Tommy when they first met, offering him some snacks she had made herself, and tucking a flower she had at hand behind his ear.

There had been other staff members, too - guards and chefs and servants alike - but those two were Tommy’s favorites.

Tommy would have been so happy, with just that - but, Phil continued to give him more.

It started with something called “Proclamation of Kinship.” It was a very fancy, important-sounding title, and when Phil had told him about it at lunch, the words had been too big for Tommy to really understand.

Then, one of his tutors had gone over it with him in more depth, and Tommy had been moved to tears.

It meant that Phil had made something called a ‘formal declaration’ saying that Tommy was part of his family now. A formal declaration was a very important announcement to everyone. In this case, the ‘everyone’ was the entirety of the Antarctic Empire. It meant that Phil had something special and serious to say, and everyone listened because it was a big deal, and in this case, that big deal had been all about him.

Now, everyone had to call him ‘Prince,’ just like with Wilbur and Technoblade.

Next, there was the “Bonding Ceremony.” Those words had been a bit more understandable, but Tommy had still been utterly confused over what a bonding ceremony could possibly require.

Again, his tutor had explained. The bonding ceremony was part of the whole ‘making Tommy part of their family’ thing, but this part happened just between Tommy, and the family he was joining. There were some different pieces to it.

The weirdest one was all of them braiding a small braid into their hair, and then cutting them off, tying all the braids together, and putting them into a small pouch that was given to Tommy. Despite how weird it was, Tommy still put the little pouch safely at the bottom of his new bedside table. He wanted to sleep with it under his pillow at first, to have that little part of his family close, but - he was worried it might get squished. Also, despite having his own room now, he often ended up sleeping with his brothers, or in the nest with Phil anyway.

Tommy’s favorite part of the bonding ritual was being given a small gift from each of his family members.

Wilbur gave him a guitar, promising to teach him to play. Technoblade gave him his first sword, similarly swearing to teach him how to use it. Phil gave him a crown that he would be able to wear at official events.

The last part of Tommy’s official inclusion into the family was the “Imperial Induction.”

Tommy was pretty nervous about that part.

It was like a big party. That lots, and lots, and lots of important people would come to see - and Tommy had to stand in front of them all, to be recognized, and he had to memorize special things to say, and wear special clothes…

These inductions also took a while to plan, so Tommy still had a couple of weeks left to prepare himself, but the date was approaching slowly, and Tommy found himself growing more and more worried. What if he messed up? If he messed up badly enough, would it be canceled? If it was canceled, did that cancel out the proclamation thing, and the bonding thing, too? Would Tommy stop being family with Phil, Wilbur, and Technoblade entirely?

He knew he should ask someone about it, but whenever he tried, the words got stuck beneath his tongue. So instead, he sat with his worries and suffocated under their weight.

It was one of those nights, and Tommy was curled into an almost ball under his covers. It was a rare night when he was sleeping in his own bed, and he felt weirdly exposed without one of his brothers next to him. Or without Phil, and his large, safe wings, that Tommy could quickly hide beneath if he felt the urge. It wasn’t like he never slept in his own bed, however, so he was able to push the oddness away and pursue sleep.

Only, sleep didn’t come.

He just kept thinking about the imperial induction. He kept imagining everything that could go wrong, and every single way he could embarrass himself. Or worse, embarrass Phil. Then, he thought about the consequences of those mistakes, over and over, until he felt sick with dread.

He shifted his arms, to wrap them around his stomach instead. His eyes were starting to burn, both with exhaustion and with barely held-back tears. He didn’t want to cry himself to sleep. It would make him feel all kinds of icky in the morning. He didn’t want to feel so anxious. It felt so awful, and it made him feel so small; but he couldn’t help it.

Tommy wanted to make his new family proud. He couldn’t bear the idea of doing the opposite.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, unmoving, under his covers.

It felt like both forever, and no time at all, when he heard an odd noise from outside his bedroom door. The door to his bedroom was thick, so it was difficult to clearly make out what was going on. He heard what sounded like an aborted shout, the noise too quickly shut down to make out proper words. There were also some strange, loud thumps.

Tommy rolled over, so his back was no longer to the door, and drew the blankets down from his face to peek warily over the edge.

The door creaked open, and a single figure slipped into his room. It was too dark to make out who it was, and Tommy squinted, trying to see any details in the darkness. As the door shut once more, all he could see was shadow.

Well, it definitely wasn’t Phil. Phil was easy to spot, what with his wings and all. So, it was probably Wilbur. Technoblade was a little bit taller than Wil, and the height didn’t quite match. Tommy sat up, letting his blankets fall around his waist. A small smile appeared on his face, eager to see his new brother. It wasn’t like he had been able to sleep, and he always felt safer these days with one of the Princes around.

“Wil?” he questioned, shifting closer to the edge of his bed. He kept his voice soft. Speaking too loudly at this time of night felt wrong. “Did you want me to come to your room?” he continued, shyly. Being considered pack still felt so special to him, the idea that both Wilbur and Technoblade wanted him in their safe space. That their very instincts wanted him there.

Wilbur, oddly, didn’t reply. He stepped towards Tommy’s bed, slowly, and he was walking oddly. Each step was a shuffle, his feet not quite leaving the ground. Instead, he dragged them along, his body lurching like it was lagging behind. His arms hung limply at his sides, odd, sporadic twitches running down them. He moved like it hurt.

“Wilbur?” Tommy questioned, a bit louder now. His heart sped off, and he flung himself off the side of his bed, landing on his feet. If Wilbur was hurt… Well, it was concerning! Why wouldn’t the knights outside do anything? Were they really so scared of Wilbur that they wouldn’t stop him or offer medical supplies?? “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Did a bad guy break into the castle? Did -”

Tommy froze.

He was a few steps from Wilbur when he realized something wasn’t quite right.

Even in the dark, this close, he could make out some of Wilbur’s features. Enough of them to realize, with a launching, sickening twist, that this wasn’t Wilbur at all.

It was Dream.

No. Tommy, who had been moving forward seconds ago, suddenly jerked back instead. No. How?

Dream was gone. He wasn’t supposed to come and get Tommy. That’s what Phil told him - that he was part of their family now, and he would be loved and cared for, and he would never have to see Dream again. Dream, who saved him from the orphanage, who was the first one to show him kindness once his parents had died. Dream, who had only treated him with love in order to use and abuse his powers. Dream, who started hurting him the moment he could get away with it, in viscous, painful ways.

“Tommy,” Dream said. His voice was weird. Dream spoke quietly, and when he spoke, the words came out roughly, like his mouth was full of sand. As soon as Tommy thought that, Dream turned his head to the side and spat something on the ground. Tommy had no idea what, but the sound of Dream’s throat working sounded raw, and agonizing. “You stupid, fucking brat.”

“D - Dream… how…”

“Friends in high places,” Dream admitted, and then he lunged.

Tommy screamed and threw himself out of the way, but despite Dream’s state, he still wasn’t fast enough. Dream’s hand, which closed around his upper arm, held him in a strong grip. Before Tommy could try to fight back any further, before he could thrash, or kick, or bite, Dream lifted him, and threw him into his bedside table with surprising strength.

As Tommy hit the table, dull pain flared along his hip and side that collided with the furniture. It was a familiar feeling, and he knew he’d be bruised there, soon. The collision sent him to the ground as he stumbled, tripping over his own feet. Then, he was on the floor before Dream, possibly the worst position to be in.

“You did this to me,” Dream seethed, “this is all your fault.” The accusation was accompanied by a sharp kick to Tommy’s stomach. It hurt - of course, it hurt - but Dream’s strength seemed to be quickly dwindling, as it didn’t hurt as much as Tommy knew it could. He still wheezed, the air punched out of him, but the physical sensation was second to the clawing terror that was rising within.

What did Dream want from him? Would he steal him away now, to try and make him produce gold again? Or would he kill him, since he was so mad at Tommy?

‘No, I didn’t - I’m sorry, I tried -” Tommy started to speak. He didn’t even know what he was saying. He was babbling the first words that came to his mind. Anything that would make Dream stop. Anything that would make Dream leave him alone.

It didn’t work. Dream didn’t even seem to hear him. “You turned me into this!” he continued to rage, kicking Tommy again, and again, and again. “You turned my friends against me. You forced me through all this suffering. Did you ask your precious family to hurt me? Did you ask them to break my fingers, cut into my flesh, and shove needles under my nails? Did you ask them to toss boiling water over my body? Huh?”

“No -” Tommy grunted. He tried to back up, but there was nowhere to go. In front of him was Dream, and he was backed up against his bed and bedside table. All he could do was lay there, listening to the violence Dream was spilling, taking the weak hits to his body, which came too often for him to stand.

“I’m dying,” Dream seethed. “I could have tried to escape, I’m sure that’s what Punz expected, but I don’t care about escaping. There’s nothing out there for me. All I care is about taking you with me to the grave, you useless, manipulative brat -”

The door flew open for a second time. This time, there was no figure entering slowly, dragging itself like a mostly broken toy - instead, there was a flash of abyss-colored darkness, and then Dream was being ripped away and off of Tommy.

Tommy immediately curled himself up into a ball, pulling his legs to his chest to breathe through the pain raging across his body. His cheeks were sticky with the few tears he hadn’t been able to hold back, and he wheezed short, pained breaths, even as relief washed through him - he wouldn’t die today.

He wasn’t ready to go, not anymore.

Dream let out a pained cry as he was thrown to the floor. He immediately tried to push himself back up, but even without Phil stopping him, he could only slump bonelessly back to the ground, his injuries too much for him to manage. He made a noise, like a wordless snarl, of frustration.

“Tommy?” Phil questioned. He took Dream’s place, kneeling before Tommy. Even in the dark room, his eyes were visible, glinting coldly. His voice was sharp, edged with both fury and concern. “What’s wrong? What hurts?”

Tommy slowly uncurled himself. With Phil there, set between him and Dream, things didn’t feel as dangerous. Even if Dream’s presence still felt like needles down his spine. “It’s okay,” he said, reassuring Phil as the Emperor pressed his hands to Tommy’s cheeks, wiping away the tears there. “He kicks really lightly. Like a weakling.” Despite his strong words, his voice, embarrassingly, trembled.

Phil did not seem reassured or amused by Tommy’s epic insult. Though it did have the intended effect on Dream, who made that animalistic snarling noise again before he suddenly burst into laughter. The laughter part was unexpected, and Tommy flinched, yanking his knees back to his chest and curling his shoulders back in before he processed what had happened.

Phil cast a glance over his shoulder.

Dream just kept laughing, and laughing, the pained, sandy noise torn from his throat like he couldn’t stop even if he tried. Tommy shivered. Everything about Dream had been subtly wrong since he entered the room, but this really was the worst. His earlier thoughts were horrifically on the spot - Dream really was like a broken toy. Something inside of him had been irreparably shattered.

“Tommy, I’ll help you in just one moment,” Phil said softly, turning back to look at Tommy, “but I need you to close your eyes first.”

“Close… my eyes?” Tommy questioned, slowly, still in that shaking voice.

“Yes,” Phil said. He seemed content with ignoring Dream’s continued laughter, broken giggles spilling between his clenched teeth. “Just for a moment, please? For me?” As if in demonstration, Phil reached forward, pressing his hand against Tommy’s eyes.

Darkness fell.

Though Tommy still hesitated, he closed his eyes a moment later, obeying the given command. Somehow Phil seemed to know exactly when Tommy closed his eyes since his hand moved away a moment later.

The only clues left were the sounds around him.

Tommy had originally wanted to take a quick peek, but something kept him in place and kept his eyes shut. It was a corner of his mind that whispered you don’t want to know. So all he could do was listen. He heard Phil’s footsteps; Dream’s continued laughs; and then Phil seemed to pause.

There was a sudden grunt, the sound of something heavy dragging across the ground, and then silence.

Utter silence.

Then Phil, speaking. “Don’t think this is mercy. If you found what we put you through painful, you aren’t going to like my wife.”

Phil’s married?

That, out of everything, seemed to shut down the part of him that was too scared to look because Tommy’s eyes flew open. “You’re married?” he questioned, though the words sounded like a demand. Phil glanced back at him. He was standing where Dream had been a moment ago, but Dream was gone. Vanished. Like he had never been there at all. Tommy’s eyes widened, confusion and shock warring within, as he scanned the room warily.

Someone could hide behind the door… or behind his dresser, if they tried really hard…

“I am married,” Phil agreed, laughing at Tommy’s words. “We can talk about that later mate. Dream’s gone. It’s okay now.”

“... You said that last time too.”

“He’s gone for good now. There’s no coming back from where he went - not for him, anyway.”

Something in Tommy gave away. He wasn’t a baby, and he wasn’t stupid. If Phil said Dream was gone, and there was no coming back - then he was dead. Just like Tommy’s parents. Some part of Tommy felt horrified. Dream had died, right there in his room. The one person who took a second look at him, after his life had fallen apart. Some part of Tommy, despite everything, still felt sad.

It was a very small part.

Tommy got to his feet, ignoring Phil’s concerned, startled protest, and threw himself towards the Emperor. Of course, Phil knelt quickly and caught him, steadying him with the most gentle touch. “Tommy! You’re injured,” he scolded him, “you can’t just jump around like that -”

“Thank you,” Tommy hiccuped, pressing his face into Phil’s chest, “thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“... Let’s get you some fresh air.”

Tommy wasn’t sure how long they sat out on the porch together before he felt calm again. It took a while.

He was seated on the very edge of the porch railing, which he had been very sternly told to never do; but it seemed like he was allowed if Phil was there since Phil had put him there without any concern. Then again, he did have wings, and they were far from the ground. If Tommy fell, Phil would have plenty of time to catch him before Tommy turned into a smear.

Phil was patient with Tommy. (He always was). He didn’t rush him, he didn’t ask him a million questions, or demand for Tommy to calm down. He only stood there with him, one hand pressed against Tommy’s stomach. Tommy could feel a gentle chill through his shirt from Phil’s hand, as magic soaked into his skin, and all the pain and bruises Dream left behind faded. With Phil’s free hand, he summoned a small, warm light. Tommy copied him; it was one of the few little magic tricks he’d learned from Phil so far. He played with the small light for a few minutes, before his energy wanned, and it faded away, far before Phil’s did.

As the bruises from Dream faded from his skin, he faded from Tommy’s mind, too.

Not entirely; that would take many, many years.

But somewhat. A little. And that was enough.

“Tommy,” Phil spoke, only breaking the silence when Tommy was fully relaxed, his eyes clear. “I’m sorry about tonight. This never should have happened. I’ll investigate it personally.”

“... Dream mentioned a name. Punz,” Tommy remembered. It seemed important. Based on Phil’s tightening expression, it was. “How did you know what was happening?”

“Wards,” Phil explained, blinking away that tense look. He seemed to forcibly relax himself, but the smile he directed at Tommy was no less real. “Think of them as… invisible walls all around your bedroom. You can walk right through them, but if anyone dangerous walks through, I’ll know right away. Then, I’ll be able to come and help you. I’ll always come, Tommy.”

Tommy didn’t speak. His mind was whirling. Despite his regained calm, it had been a long, exhausting night, and he was still trying to make sense of the ward explanation, too.

“... I’m sorry for scaring you,” Phil continued, when it became clear Tommy wasn’t going to respond. Tommy jolted, ripped away from his thoughts. He stared at Phil, mouth slightly parted, trying to make sense of his words.

“Huh?”

“When I used my magic on Dream,” Phil clarified, picking a nice way to say, when I killed Dream.

Tommy stared at Phil like he’d grown a second head. “You didn’t scare me,” he said immediately, his voice small but firm. “Dream scared me. You…” Tommy trailed off. He looked away; back behind him, where the lands of the Antarctic Empire looked so small, and dark. The sky stretched above, a black abyss, dotted with shimmering stars. “... You made it better.”

Phil’s hand gently grasped his chin, turning Tommy’s head to look back at him. His expression had softened. “You sure? I don’t want you to think you’re in danger around me. I’d never hurt you, Tommy.”

“I know that,” Tommy said, his voice rising slightly. “I know. You -” he hesitated, glancing down at his lap. Then, he muttered, “I feel safe with you. Like, properly safe. Really. You proved it, when you destroyed the gold, that you didn’t want… and then, you did the proclamation thing, and you gave me a crown, so… All I really ever wanted was a family, and that’s what we are now. You saved me.”

Phil’s wings twitched. His pupils were enlarged, visible even in the dark. He let out a soft exhale, lips shifting into a smile as he leaned down a bit to be at eye level with Tommy, his hand never leaving him. “Good. That’s all I want. You’re safe here, Tommy. With me, with Wilbur, with Techno. No one’s going to hurt you again. Our family.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing hard. The mess in his mind was unraveling into something manageable. “... You mean it?”

“Of course I do,” Phil said with a warm smile. “You’re part of our family now, forever.”

Tommy’s lips parted, then closed. Then, he opened his mouth again, to ask, in almost a whisper, “even if I mess up?”

Phil paused. He tilted his head slightly to the side, eyebrows furrowing. “Mess up? What do you mean?”

“The induction,” Tommy said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The one in front of all the important people, in a few weeks. What if I say something dumb, make you look bad, or… mess it all up? What if you decide I’m not worth the trouble? Like Dream?”

Phil’s face fell, his expression shifting into what seemed like heartbreak. He suddenly jolted forward, his hands moving to rest on both of Tommy’s shoulders now. “Tommy, no,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Listen to me. There is nothing you can do to mess this up. Nothing. The induction - it’s just a formality. You’re already part of this family.”

“But -”

“No buts,” Phil interrupted. “You could stand in the middle of that hall, scream every swear word you know, and then do a backflip into the feast, and I still wouldn’t care. You’re ours, Tommy. You’re my… my son. Nothing will change that.”

Tommy blinked rapidly, his vision blurring. “... Even if I’m annoying?”

Phil laughed. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. The place his lips touched burned, but in a pleasant, warm way. “Especially if you’re annoying. I would never want you to change anything about yourself.”

Tommy sniffled, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling. There had been enough tears that night. He ducked his head, his voice muffled as he muttered, “thank you.”

Phil just smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Tommy’s face. “Anytime. Tommy Minecraft. My son. Now, let’s get you to the nest. You’ve had enough excitement for one night."