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Public execution is a really shitty way to die.
Tommy’s numb. He can’t hold his head up anymore, but he tries, if only to deny Nightmare the satisfaction of knowing he’s broken him. At least his hands don’t shake and betray the terror surging under his skin, boiling in his blood.
He doesn’t want to die.
He finds Wilbur’s gaze, and an inhuman, wounded sound slips from his adoptive brother’s throat. Techno’s beside him, impassive, but Tommy’s close enough to see the hurt and fear in the younger twin’s eyes. The tinge of red.
I’m sorry, Tommy tries to say.
He didn’t kill the Emperor. Not one of the three of them had anything to do with Phil’s death but here Tommy is, being led to slaughter, for nothing more than a grudge.
He regrets ‘confessing’ to Dream, now.
At least my brothers are safe.
The guillotine towers above the square, blade glinting razor sharp and deadly in the noon sun. Tommy’s brothers are calling after him, Wilbur begging him to say something, Tommy, please and Techno shouting at Dream that he’s innocent, you can’t do this-
It doesn’t matter.
Dream, Nightmare, is finally getting what he’s always wanted.
Tommy’s led to the block and made to kneel. Dream forces his head down against stone, sun-warm against skin that’s cold from three long days in the dungeon.
He’s facing the raised platform where his brothers, the princes, are standing, clinging to the railing and each other. His gaze finds them easily; he’s drawn to Wilbur and Techno, he was always meant to love them and maybe he was always meant to end up here, to die for them too.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy croaks, knowing they can’t hear him.
Dream takes the rope in his own hands, hoisting the blade higher and higher with each pull. Tommy presumes, anyway. He can’t see it. Only hears the scraping of metal against wood, the hushed murmurs of the crowd.
He could close his eyes, but he doesn’t. Instead he keeps his gaze locked on his brothers. On Wilbur who found him first, who made him believe he was wanted and loved. On Techno who shielded him from the townsfolk’s suspicious whispers, who pulled pranks with him and made him laugh.
His entire life spent running from one man, and this is how it ends: with Tommy’s head on the block and his brothers looking on.
At least he had brothers; at least he had a few months of family and safety. Even if this is how it has to end.
“I’m sorry,” Tommy tries to say again, lips forming the words but no sound coming out. “I love you.”
With a last grunt, Dream hoists the blade to the top of the frame, and it falls into place with a shink.
A stillness settles over the crowd. A waiting silence. Tommy doesn’t look at them. Just Wilbur.
Holy shit, Tommy’s about to die.
“Do you have any last words, witch?” Dream hisses in his ear, a note of malicious glee in his tone.
Tommy doesn’t want to die. He’s scared, he’s so scared.
He keeps looking at Wilbur and Techno.
“STOP!”
The shout rings across the square as a figure pushes through the crowd, murmurs growing behind it into a crescendo of shouts.
It’s the Emperor! He’s alive!
Tommy sobs with relief as Phil appears on the platform, eyes blazing and wings flaring wide. The Emperor has returned. He made it in time-
“NO!” Wilbur screams, and Tommy barely has a second to process the fact that Dream has let go of the rope.
His last thought is at least Phil is okay.
~~~
Phil was sick.
That was how it started. In hindsight, it probably should’ve clued Tommy in to the fact that something was about to go wrong.
The three had talked to him in the morning, and he promised to be up later. Then it was almost evening and he still hadn’t appeared. So Wilbur and Techno grabbed Tommy, and they marched to Phil’s room to drag him out of bed.
And here they are, standing and staring at bloody feathers and one of Tommy’s golden knives stuck in Phil’s chest.
“What the fuck,” Wilbur croaks.
Tommy thinks he’s going to be sick. He reaches out, not touching the knife.
“That’s one of mine.” He can’t breathe. “I- Wilbur, Techno, I didn’t-”
“I know you didn’t.” Techno’s hand falls heavily on his shoulder. “You were with me all day.”
“So who-?”
The door slams open. Tommy jerks his hand back from the knife, whipping around to see-
Sandy hair and a bright green shirt under shining armor. A gleaming amulet with a strangely familiar design. Dream, the head of the Royal Guards.
“I warned them,” Dream snarls, glancing over his shoulder and making a snappy movement, gesturing the guards in. “The witch has killed the Emperor.”
Tommy knows that voice.
Nightmare.
His adrenaline surge is washed away by a strange kind of resignation, filling his body.
So this is how it ends.
His mind sums it up in an instant. Dream has spent a lifetime chasing Tommy; he doesn’t respect the twins, and he isn’t going to pass up his chance to end the chase.
A lightning quick glance tells him that the rest of the guards are also wearing magic blocking amulets. Nothing Tommy can do will affect them.
Wilbur and Techno aren’t. They never do, because Tommy is the only magic user in the Empire who could be remotely strong enough to be a threat to them. And he’s their brother, so they trust him.
So now, he does the only thing he can do. Something he swore never to do.
Tommy spells his brothers.
He finds their minds with golden threads of magic and wraps his hold tight before they can react. By the time they realize, it’s too late. Tommy has them in his grip.
Be still, he whispers, and they can’t move.
“What’s their part in all this?” Dream raises his sword, pointing it at Wilbur’s chest.
“They didn’t do anything,” Tommy says, heart in his throat. Nightmare won’t hesitate, he knows that.
Dream advances, the point of his sword coming to rest at Tommy’s neck. “Talk, witch.”
“It was all me.” Tommy should know better. He should, but he doesn’t see another way out of this.
Were you really stupid enough to think this would last? an ugly little voice whispers in the back of his head. Home, and family?
This was always coming. Nightmare was always going to find him. The chase was always going to end in Tommy’s ruin.
“They’re spelled,” Tommy says, voice shaking.
Techno’s fighting him, hard, but Tommy keeps his hold. Forces silent and still. Wilbur is scared.
Dream’s face splits in a maniacal grin, too similar to his mask, and a chill washes over Tommy’s body. “Perhaps,” Dream hisses, “they should not have been so quick to trust a witch.”
Wilbur’s a magic user too, though not nearly as powerful as Tommy is. Still, he supposes Dream doesn’t know that. Or at the very least, isn’t interested in killing the Crown Prince.
Right, because it’s just Tommy he hates.
“Let them go.” The point of Dream’s sword digs into Tommy’s neck, just enough to draw blood. “Or I will kill you.”
He means it.
Tommy presses his compulsion tighter for a few seconds, to give the impression that it’s been there longer, and releases the twins.
Wilbur gasps in air; Techno blinks hard, like waking up from a long sleep. They both turn horrified expressions on Tommy.
“Good,” Dream purrs. “You’re going to surrender now, witch.”
“Oh, Tommy… you know you can’t hide forever.”
Tommy drops heavily to his knees, all emotion draining away.
“He didn’t do anything,” Techno growls, stepping forwards.
“Stay back.” Dream gestures to his soldiers, and several of them move to place themselves between Tommy and the twins. “You’ve been spelled.”
“Tommy?” Wilbur asks, voice small.
Tommy bows his head, staring at the floor. Dream wrenches his arms behind him, cuffs locking into place. Tommy recognizes the instant freezing sensation as his magic is blocked from access, the weakness in his body.
He can’t find it in him to be scared.
“Take the princes back to their rooms and keep them there.” Dream gestures. “Who knows what compulsions the witch left in their minds?”
It takes six men to drag Techno out of the room. He’s yelling and fighting, and there’s a red tinge to his eyes that looks dangerous.
Techno could stop Nightmare, Techno could keep him safe. Techno promised to keep him safe.
Wilbur keeps screaming Tommy’s name, even after the door slams shut to lock him in his room. Tommy can hear him through the walls, faintly, and it almost makes something stir in the emptiness.
But this is all he’s good for, in the end. To throw himself on the knife to protect others. This fate was always going to catch up with him.
~~~
Techno paces his room, hands clasped tightly behind his back, growls slipping past his lips every time another scream echoes up from the dungeons.
save the runt
rip them apart
blood for the Blood God
He tries to silence the Voices. He can’t give in to the bloodwrath, to the urge to smash down the door, storm down to the dungeons and tear Dream to pieces.
The traitorous bastard laid his plans too well. Even before Tommy spelled them, Techno suspects, Dream was going to say that it had happened. If he goes down there he might save his brother, but he would almost certainly be killed.
And then they would just kill Tommy anyways. And probably Wilbur, too.
Another cry, and Techno snarls, hand closing around a glass and hurling it to the floor. The shatter of glass snaps the red haze out of his vision.
He cannot lose control.
“Philza,” he growls, “you’d better hurry up, old man, before I eviscerate half the people in this castle.”
An agonized, raw scream, and Techno grips the post of his bed, squeezing with all his strength.
they’re hurting the runt
destroy them
blood for the Blood God
blood
BLOOD
Dream is torturing Techno’s brother, his Theseus, and he can’t do a damn thing about it.
“Mom.” He forces the word out through his tight throat, a last desperate plea. “You gotta send Dad back, right now, we need him-”
~~~
Wilbur hasn’t stopped shaking in three days.
He’s shaking now, far harder than the warmth of the day merits, even standing side-by-side with his twin. Gaze pinned on the procession that’s winding out of the jail.
“Tommy,” Wilbur croaks.
His baby brother is chained, shuffling along behind Dream. The bastard is smirking as though this is the best day of his life.
Tommy’s head hangs. There’s no visible mark on his body, nothing to tell the crowd that he’s spent the last three days being tortured, but Wilbur knows. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the sound of Tommy’s screams.
Tommy’s gaze sweeps the crowd, coming to rest on the twins, and his stony expression falters. Wilbur lets out a wounded sob, reaching for his thirteen-year-old brother.
Tommy, Tommy, Tommy.
Dream drags him towards the guillotine. Desperate for some sign, any sign, Wilbur stumbles to the rail.
“Say something, Tommy. Please, please say something-” he chants, begs.
“He’s innocent!” Techno roars beside him. “You can’t execute him, he didn’t do anything-”
Dream forces Tommy to kneel, pushes the golden head down against the block. Tommy’s arms are chained behind him in a position that can’t be comfortable but all Wilbur can see is his head on the block, the gleaming blade positioned above his neck.
Why doesn’t he use his magic to save himself? Wilbur knows he could. Tommy’s magic is strong, nothing like Wilbur’s that can barely even heal a papercut.
Tommy’s gaze finds them again, and his lips form the words I’m sorry.
Wilbur’s terror and grief are growing inside him, expanding so rapidly that to his shame he can’t say anything back. Can’t say you have nothing to be sorry for, sunshine, the way he wants to. He doesn’t want his brother going to his death thinking they hate him.
Dream grips the rope and begins hoisting the blade higher, inch by inch.
Tommy’s mouth moves again. I’m sorry, Wilbur makes out. And, his damnation, I love you.
I love you, he tries to call back, words blocked by the terrible ache in his throat. I love you so much, Tommy.
The blade reaches the top and the crowd goes still. Wilbur goes still, clutching Techno’s arm. Begging the gods for a miracle, even knowing that they aren’t listening to him (if they were listening, none of this would have happened). Dream bends down, saying something in Tommy’s ear. His malicious grin makes Wilbur’s skin crawl.
“STOP!”
Wilbur spins around, gaze searching and quickly locating-
Phil. Striding through the crowd, expression fairly murderous, wings gleaming inky black under the sun.
“Dad,” Wilbur gasps.
It’s all right now, Phil’s here, Phil will stop this-
He looks back at the guillotine just in time to see Dream let go of the rope, stepping back with a vicious, vindictive smile.
“NO!” Wilbur screams.
Phil lunges, but it’s too late.
Swish, thud.
Blood spatters, and Tommy’s head rolls, empty eyes turned towards the sky.
Wilbur screams again.
Phil vaults the rail, wings spreading to blot out the sun. Wilbur follows, heedless of the guards reaching after him to stop him. Stumbles to the platform, turning away from the gruesome sight to vomit on the ground.
Techno’s arm wraps around his chest. He’s shaking. Phil has dropped onto his prey, and the Angel of Death is raging.
Wilbur lunges at Dream, ragged screams ripping out of his throat. Techno holds him tighter, and Wilbur feels the back of his shirt dampening. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, his baby brother is dead and he wants to rip Dream to fucking pieces-
Phil lands a heavy blow to the man’s head and Dream slumps, going still. Wilbur claws at Techno’s arms, trying to get loose, he wants to destroy the bastard-
Phil turns, grief overtaking his expression, and Wilbur follows his gaze- Tommy, Tommy, he’s dead-
He slumps, sobbing brokenly, and Techno lets him go. Lets him stumble the last few feet to the block, heedless of the blood (Tommy’s blood) soaking his pants as he drops heavily to his knees. Another sob rips out of him, and Wilbur reaches out to thread his fingers through golden curls slowly dyeing red.
“Tommy, Tommy,” Wilbur sobs, begging for something to change. Begging to wake up and find it all a dream. “Please, please, no, Tommy, no-”
All he can see is Tommy’s eyes, blank and empty.
Phil was too late.
They take Tommy’s body back to the castle and lay him in the family’s private chapel. Washed and dressed in clean white linen, eyelids closed at last.
He’s dead. He’s dead.
All of that and Phil didn’t make it in time. Wilbur still hasn’t asked his father what happened, where he was, despite the questions burning like acid in his mouth, his throat.
He wants to. He wants to be furious at Phil, wants to grab him by the throat and scream where were you? why didn’t you come sooner? and most of all, why couldn’t you save him?
But there’s nothing except a horrible emptiness consuming him.
Wilbur sits on the cold stone floor, side-by-side with his twin. Phil’s kneeling over Tommy’s body; Wilbur thinks he might be praying.
It’s too late for prayer to save him. She isn’t going to send Tommy back; he’s not Hers.
How, how are they supposed to live like this? How is Wilbur supposed to live without that brilliant light, without his sun?
Tommy’s dead, and the chapel is dark and cold.
~~~
Tommy wakes up.
Well, kind of. He’s sharply aware that his heart and lungs are still. So he must be dead, right?
His body is floating, suspended in some softness that feels like pure magic. He opens his eyes to velvety thick darkness .
“Where am I?”
“Shh.” A hand strokes through his hair, voice echoing around him. “Rest, love. Everything is going to be all right.”
Who are you? Tommy thinks, tries to ask.
It seems the woman- it’s a woman’s voice, musical and kind- hears him. “I am Lady Death,” She says, fingers continuing their mindless path through his hair.
Oh.
A tear slips down his cheek, and the woman- Death- hushes him again, swiping it away with a gentle finger.
“Don’t cry, darling. You’re safe now.”
He’s dead. Nightmare caught him and he died, the chase is over. Tommy lost.
“You’re very precious to my family, Tommy,” She whispers, and Her hand sweeps the pain away from his neck as though it had never existed at all.
Your family?
“My Angel. My sons.” She hums softly, and Tommy feels himself bundled into a pair of arms, held in a warm embrace. Like he imagines his mother might have held him when he was a baby, if she ever did. “They’ll be so happy to see you again.”
But I’m dead, he tries to remind Her.
“Only for a little while. I’m sending you back.” Her lips brush his forehead.
He wants to go back. He wants to live, he wants his brothers and his father and his home.
“Good,” She murmurs, and he can feel the warmth of Her smile. “Just rest a little first, Theseus. You’re safe here. Nothing can hurt you while you’re in my arms.”
~~~
Techno’s not sure how long they sit there, in the cold dark chapel, holding vigil over Tommy’s body.
The Voices are silent. Techno’s long given up on praying for a miracle. His mother never hears him, She never seems to listen.
There is so much they have to do. The Emperor is back from the dead, and Dream is in custody, and Tommy’s body needs to be buried.
Oh, gods. They have to bury his baby brother.
Wilbur’s sleeping. Techno eases his twin away to rest against the wooden bench behind him. Then he creeps forward to kneel beside Phil.
His father is still praying over Tommy’s body. Wings mantled, feathers hiding both faces from view.
Techno ignores the lump in his throat and reaches for Phil’s shoulder.
“Dad,” he manages. “Dad, we- we have to-” Techno chokes, forces the words out anyway. “We have to let him go. He’s gone.”
Phil doesn’t seem to hear, and Techno steels himself to shake his father’s shoulder, snap him out of his endless murmuring.
“Please, Dad.” His voice breaks. “Tommy… Tommy’s gone.”
Phil slowly turns his head, eyes wet with tears. “She’ll fix this,” he says, voice rasping. “She can send him back.”
“Mom’s not listening.” Techno’s tired. He’s so tired. “Dad, Tommy’s- he’s been dead for half the day. She isn’t sending him back.” Just saying it punches a hole straight through his heart. His baby brother’s gone and nothing can change it.
“She can,” Phil says, shrugging Techno’s hand away and turning his attention back to Tommy. “She will.”
Techno opens his mouth to say something else-
Tommy’s body erupts in golden light.
Phil stumbles back, breathless words of thanks spilling out. Deep purple threads wind through the golden brilliance of Tommy’s magic, purple threads that are racing towards his throat, knitting him back together-
“Wilbur,” Techno forces out, and his twin is awake and at his side in an instant, gasping for breath.
“What’s happening?” Wilbur’s voice goes high-pitched and wobbly. “Tommy-”
“Stay back.” Phil grabs Wilbur’s shoulder in time to keep him from lunging at his brother. “Just- just wait.” Under his breath he says another thank you, Kristin and Techno almost sobs.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Tommy breathes.
“Tommy, Tommy,” Wilbur babbles. The glow of magic fades and Phil lets him go, and Wilbur scrambles forward, grabbing Tommy’s hand.
“Theseus, gods.” Techno scoots across the floor to sit opposite Wilbur, taking Tommy’s other hand.
Phil kneels at Tommy’s head, wings flaring out to cover the twins.
He’s breathing. Tommy’s breathing, and his eyelids flutter, and Phil places his hands either side of the boy’s head.
“That’s it, Tommy,” he breathes. “That’s it, baby, come back to us, you can do it.”
“C’mon, Toms, sunshine, come back-” Wilbur grips his hand. “Please, come back, come back-”
Techno can hardly breathe, but he forces words out anyway. “We’re here, Theseus, wake up.”
Tommy blinks, whining in the back of his throat.
“That’s it,” Phil says, gently, urgently. His wings twitch, feathers brushing against Techno’s back and making him shudder. “It’s okay, Tommy, it’s okay, you’re safe-”
Tommy’s hand twitches in Techno’s grasp. Blue eyes, a purple tinge fast receding, blink at the ceiling.
“Tommy,” Wilbur sobs. “Tommy, sunshine.”
Tommy whines, fingers twitching weakly in Techno’s grip. “Hur’s.”
“I know it does.” Phil’s voice aches. “You’re okay, Toms. You’re back.”
Tommy’s gaze finds Phil, and he lets out another little whimper. “Dad.”
“Yeah, Tommy. I’m here.” Phil brushes gentle hands over Tommy’s curls. “I’m sorry I was late.”
Tommy’s breath hitches, and isn’t that a miracle, he’s breathing- “I died.”
“I tried to stop it, Toms. I tried so hard.” Phil’s crying now, too, wings pressing the twins closer. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re okay,” Techno says, forcing the words through his tight throat. “You’re okay, Theseus.”
Tommy sobs, and Techno curls in closer, conscious of Wilbur and Phil doing the same. Cocooning Tommy between them.
“Shh, Tommy, you’re okay. It’s okay now.” Phil keeps talking quiet and low. “You’re okay.”
~~~
Tommy wakes up in a bed.
He thinks so, anyway… it’s soft, and there’s definitely a blanket thrown over him. He pulls in a deep breath, wincing at the ache in his throat.
Now that he’s thinking about it, it isn’t just his throat… there’s a line of burning pain straight through his neck. He whines, and something shifts under him, warm and- and breathing. He’s lying on top of someone.
“Are you awake, Toms?”
He blinks, turning his head as far to the side as he can. A hand stops him, carding gently through his curls.
“Shh, sunshine. It’s okay, Wilby’s got you.”
Wilbur. Wilbur’s here, but- but didn’t something happen, he almost wasn’t… Tommy wasn’t…
Swish, thud.
He jerks, taking a harsh breath, and Wilbur’s arm tightens around him. “Shh, Tommy, you’re okay-”
“It hurts,” he chokes out.
“I know. I know, shh, it’s gonna be okay.”
He died. Tommy died.
He reaches up, fingers scrabbling at his throat, finding the line where the pain is sharpest. Wilbur grabs his hand, gently pulling it away.
“Careful, Tommy. You’re okay, you just need to breathe. Can you do that for me? Please?”
For Wilbur, Tommy thinks he could do anything.
He pulls in a breath, whining when it burns going down his throat. Wilbur’s arm tightens around his chest.
“That’s right, sunshine. Keep breathing.”
Tommy can’t stop the tears running down his face. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t-
“’m dead,” he sobs.
“No, sunshine, no- you’re alive, you came back.” Wilbur sounds like he might be crying himself. “You’re okay.”
“I died, ‘m dead-”
Wilbur grabs his hand, bringing Tommy’s fingers up to his neck again, guiding them to press against a throbbing artery. That’s Tommy’s own pulse, beating under his fingers, he’s-
“Alive?”
“Yeah, Toms. You’re alive.”
He sobs, and Wilbur tucks Tommy’s head into his shoulder.
“You’re okay,” he says, and keeps repeating it. “You’re okay, Tommy. You’re okay.”
~~~
The Emperor is holding court in the dungeons.
Phil’s heard the whole story now, from both of the twins. How they’d found the scattered feathers, the blood drenching the sheets. Phil, dead (he doesn’t mind dying so much anymore, but he hates being killed) with one of Tommy’s knives in his chest.
Dream, who’s always snubbed and cold-shouldered Tommy, always hated magic, finding the three. Tommy, spelling his brothers and releasing them, taking all the blame on himself (his boy, his brave son, putting himself in harms’ way for his brothers). Dream, arresting him. Torturing him.
It took Phil a few hours to come back; three days to dig himself out of the crypt.
In that time, Dream sentenced Tommy to death, disregarding all of the twins’ claims of his innocence. Phil had made it back in time; he should’ve been able to stop it.
He can’t forget the vindictive, satisfied malice on Dream’s face as he let the blade of the guillotine fall. As Tommy died.
He’d personally subdued Dream, getting the man locked away in the deepest darkest part of the dungeon; had personally carried Tommy’s body back to the castle. Washed him, dressed him in white. Laid his youngest child in the chapel and knelt over his body.
Phil had forgotten everything else in the murmured prayers to his Goddess, his wife. Begging Kristin to send Tommy back to them. Pleading even as nothing changed, as Tommy lay cold and motionless on the stone.
Until She heard him, as She always does. And She answered.
And now, Phil’s going to take a great deal of pleasure in sending Her a present.
The guards open Dream’s cell and stand aside. Just behind Phil, Techno lets out a low growl. Wilbur’s sitting with Tommy right now- they haven’t left him alone for a second since he came back.
In all honesty, Phil doesn’t really care whether or not Dream has anything to say for himself. The evidence is overwhelming, anyway- the entire city saw him execute Tommy, even after the Emperor’s order to stop. Treason would be bad enough, but add murder, and, well.
It’s enough to guarantee Dream a swift and merciless death.
Or slow and painful, as the case may be.
Because Techno’s eyes have that red gleam in them, and Phil knows that the Voices are calling for blood. Ordinarily he would try to restrain him, redirect his son’s energy. Help him control the Voices.
This, however… this, he can sanction.
“Dream, formerly Head of the Royal Guards.” Phil ruffles his wings. “You stand accused of treason against the Crown, and of two separate counts of murder. How do you plead?”
The man lets out a wordless snarl, tugging against the chains.
Techno growls again, low in the back of his throat. Phil spares his son one quick glance, holding a hand in front of him in a gesture to stay put.
“How do you plead?” Phil repeats, voice hardening.
“You’ve already made up your mind that I’m guilty.” Dream glares up at him.
“The entire city witnessed you murder Prince Theseus, despite orders to stop. And despite having no authority to pass down sentence.” Phil takes a step towards him. “I, however, have that authority. Dream, you are hereby condemned to death, a sentence which will be summarily carried out by Prince Technoblade.”
He flicks his hand, and Techno stalks forward, a bloodthirsty grin spreading over his face. Phil waits. A part of him says it’s wrong to feel so vindictive, so eager for someone to die.
But then he thinks about Tommy’s body, knelt slumped against the block; about slender fingers threaded into bloodstained golden curls, empty eyes turned to the sky that they once outshone. He thinks about Tommy, dead, and Phil’s anger boils all over again.
Dream is going to suffer, and Phil is going to enjoy it.
~~~
The Voices are screaming.
The incessant chant has been throbbing at the base of Techno’s skull since he saw Dream drag Tommy, chained, out of the castle. It went silent during those hours in the chapel, returning and redoubling in force as soon as Phil left Tommy’s side, saying he was going to the dungeons.
blood for the Blood God
kill
maim the traitor
destroy him
he hurt Theseus
blood
blood for the Blood God
Techno tries to stay quiet, kneeling behind Phil. The Angel of Death looks murderous today, black feathers gleaming under the torchlight.
He’s speaking, but Techno can’t hear past the chanting in his mind. He waits, watching Dream. Watching Phil, waiting for a signal.
The Angel finally, finally twitches one hand. The Voices clamor in utter delight, and Techno stands, stalks towards his prey. The guards back away- good. They know better than to interrupt the Blood God’s Chosen on a hunt.
blood for the Blood God
rip him apart
tear him to shreds
he hurt Theseus
he laid hands on Wilbur
blood for the Blood God
“You made three mistakes,” Techno growls.
Dream meets his gaze coolly, inciting the voices to further rage.
“First. You killed my father.”
He can smell the man’s blood thrumming under his skin. There’s not enough fear, and Techno wants him to be afraid. He wants this traitorous bastard to die terrified, as Tommy had been on that block.
“Second,” Techno hisses, keeping a tight handle on the Voices, the instincts demanding he rip and tear and kill. Soon, he promises. “You laid hands on my twin.”
“What was the third?” Dream asks, flashing a manic, feral grin.
fourth mistake
destroy him
BLOOD
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
In a flash, Techno’s hand is at the man’s throat, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. The Voices crescendo, drowning out all sound except the pounding of Dream’s heart and the sound of Techno’s own voice.
“You took my baby brother’s head,” he snarls.
HE KILLED THESEUS
BLOOD
BLOOD
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
The red haze descends, and Techno lets the Voices consume him.
They’re going to make it slow. Make it hurt.
RIP HIM APART
DESTROY HIM
BLOOD
BLOOD
BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD
Techno rises from the haze dripping with blood and panting for breath. The Voices are quiet, finally satisfied.
There’s blood in his mouth. Techno leans to the side, spitting it out. From the looks of it, he must’ve torn Dream’s throat open with his teeth. Not the first time and he doubts it’ll be the last, but he hates the coppery taste.
A hand touches his shoulder, and he whips his head around, teeth snapping at-
Nothing. Phil pulls away just in time. Techno slumps, blinking at his father.
“It’s done, Tech.” Phil’s hand settles back on his shoulder. “You did well.”
He bares his teeth in what is either a grin or a snarl, he can’t tell which. Phil moves his hand to Techno’s head, fingers running carefully through his messy pink hair. He sighs, lets his head fall against his father’s leg.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Phil says. “Theseus is waiting.”
~~~
Phil watches as Techno leaves the cell, staggering only slightly. He gives one last scornful look to the bloody, mangled corpse in the corner of the cell.
“He’s yours now, my Lady,” Phil murmurs. “Make him suffer.”
He knows She will. Dream killed Her child (and there is no longer any doubt that Kristin would accept Tommy as Hers, because She sent him back), and there is no torment in Her hells too terrible.
Phil sweeps out of the room, shuddering blood off his feathers. His wings are crypt-dusty and they itch, he’ll have to have Wilbur preen them later.
Techno’s staggering down the hall, and Phil comes up beside him, supporting his son’s weight. Techno glances at him.
“Mom has him?” he asks, voice hoarse.
“Yeah, Tech.” Phil allows himself another flash of vindictive satisfaction. “She’ll make him suffer.”
Techno bares his teeth again in another savage grin. “Good.”
Phil doesn’t speak again until they reach Techno’s room and he’s started drawing a bath.
“That was a lot,” he says, glancing at his son. “It’s been a long time since you let loose like that.”
Techno’s already shrugging off his clothes, which are too bloody to be saved, probably. “He hurt Theseus.” Techno lets out a soft growl, tossing his boots in the corner. “You didn’t see him… gloating over having Tommy locked up. Wanted to rip into him right there.”
“Why didn’t you?” Phil asks, turning his back to let Techno finish undressing and get in the tub.
“Couldn’t put Wilbur and Tommy in danger.” Techno’s voice rumbles low in his chest. “And I knew you’d be back. Just didn’t think you’d wait that long.”
“The royal crypt happens to be very hard to get out of.” Phil gathers up Techno’s bloody clothes.
His son chuckles. “Probably the point.”
“Oi.” Phil huffs fondly. “I’ll be with Tommy. Come join us, unless you fall asleep in there.”
~~~
Wilbur hasn’t moved from Tommy’s side all day.
Why should he? He’s cradling a miracle in his arms.
The door opens, and Tommy stirs, nose scrunching. Wilbur tucks Tommy closer.
“Shh, sunshine. S’okay, it’s just Dad.” He glances across at Phil.
His father comes all the way in, sinking down on the side of the huge bed. “How is he?” he murmurs.
“Sleeping.” Wilbur pitches his voice quieter. “I managed to convince him that he’s not dead.”
Phil winces, reaching out to brush one hand carefully over Tommy’s curls. “I’m sorry, Wil-”
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to.” He’s trying not to get angry, he really is. “You didn’t see him, Dad. He was so scared.”
“He’s safe now.” Phil sighs, reaching up to cup Wilbur’s face for a second. “How are you holding up, Wil?”
Wilbur chokes on a breath. He’s supposed to be okay, like the emotions swirling through his head aren’t overwhelming him with their intensity. Like he doesn’t want to storm down to the dungeon and tear Dream into bloody pieces.
Tommy is in his arms, his little brother is alive. “I’m okay,” Wilbur lies.
Phil frowns, but the door opens again, and Techno comes in. He comes across and drops onto the bed beside Phil, fidgeting with the towel around his head.
“Are you okay, Tech?” Wilbur asks, worried. His twin looks utterly exhausted.
Techno takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I handled things.”
Wilbur frowns, looking closer for traces of blood. Techno meets his gaze, swatting at him lazily.
“I took a bath.” Techno pushes Phil out of his way, crawling up to lean against the pillows and holding out his arms. “Gimme.”
“You’re gonna fall asleep, and then who’s gonna give Tommy attention?” Wilbur tightens his grip slightly, not enough to wake Tommy.
“Dad’s wings need to be preened. Gimme.”
Well, in that case…
Wilbur carefully pours Tommy into Techno’s arms, helping his twin situate their younger brother. He lingers a few seconds, watching Tommy breathe.
Tommy has a scar now. An ugly, too-visible line running all the way around his neck, skin knitted together with shimmers of purple magic.
(in time, they’ll fade. Wilbur hates how he knows that.)
Finally Wilbur slides off the bed. Phil’s sitting on a cushion facing the fireplace, and Wilbur seats himself behind him. His father stretches out his wings, letting out a deep sigh as Wilbur starts drawing careful fingers through dulled black feathers.
For a long time, it’s utterly silent in the bedroom (Phil’s, it’s the biggest and has the largest bed) except the crackling of the fire and the sound of four people breathing.
Wilbur breaks the silence as he moves on to Phil’s other wing.
“Did Techno kill Dream?”
“He did.” Phil sighs again.
“Was it slow?” Wilbur may not have his twin’s Voices, he may not have his father’s centuries-old anger, but he loves Tommy more than life itself and that man killed his baby brother-
“Yes.” Phil’s wings twitch. “And She’s going to make him suffer even longer.”
“Good.”
In honesty, the panic and anger and grief had driven all thoughts of his mother from Wilbur’s mind, until he saw Her magic repairing Tommy’s body. And then he hadn’t been able to stop singing thanks to Her in his mind.
Phil hums. “She likes Tommy.”
Wilbur hums back, questioning.
“She sent him back. She wouldn’t do that for someone She didn’t care about.”
Wilbur tilts his head, adjusting Phil’s wing to catch the light better. “Does that make Tommy Death’s Angel, too?”
“No, Wil.” Phil glances over his shoulder, gaze catching Wilbur’s for a second. “He’s Her son.”
For some reason, it’s that that makes Wilbur start to cry. He swipes his arm over his eyes, keeps working dust and flaky dried blood out of his father’s feathers.
“Oh, Wil-”
Phil starts to turn, and Wilbur shakes his head. “Just- I’m okay, Dad. Let me finish this. You need it.”
He finishes the second wing- maybe a little less thorough due to the fact that he’s still teary-eyed- and Phil turns, wraps him up in arms and wings.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs.
Wilbur, worn out and exhausted and pushed well past his limits, slumps in his father’s embrace and sobs.
~~~
Tommy resurfaces to perfect warmth and complete comfort.
He blinks slowly, glancing around. Smiling at what he sees.
Techno and Wilbur, lying across Tommy’s legs, arms tangled around him and each other. Phil, reclining at Tommy’s side, one hand stroking through his hair and wings stretched out like a curtain.
“Hi, mate.” Phil keeps his voice pitched low. “How’re you feeling?”
Tommy tilts his head up into Phil’s hand with a soft hum. “Tired. M’ neck hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” Phil brings his other hand up, fingers brushing lightly over the sharpest line of pain. “It should stop within another day or two.”
Tommy hums. “I saw someone,” he says softly. “When I was- dead.”
“I know.” Phil smiles, cool fingers still stroking over Tommy’s neck, soothing the pain. “That’s Kristin.”
“She was nice.” Tommy gazes, mesmerized, at Phil’s wing as it moves slightly to cover him better. “Is She really Wilbur and Techno’s mom?”
“That’s part of a long, complicated story that it’s not quite time for you to hear yet.” Phil hums. “But yes. She is.”
Wilbur shifts, nuzzling into Tommy’s side, and he waits for his brother to go still before asking the question that’s burning in his mind.
“Why did She send me back?” he whispers.
“She loves you.”
“What?” Tommy’s breath catches. “Why- why me?”
What has he done to be worth the love of Lady Death, of a literal goddess?
“Oh, Tommy.” Phil smiles softly, leaning down to kiss his curls. “You’re Her son, too.”
Oh. Oh. Tommy smiles back, uncertain but happy, and curls into his dad’s arms.
“I’m sorry you had to meet Her that way.” Phil sighs, bundling Tommy closer.
“It hurt,” Tommy whispers. “It hurt so much.”
“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in time to stop it.”
“’s not your fault.” Tommy hums. “I know you tried.”
~~~
It’s a couple days before Tommy feels safe enough to ask.
“What happened to Dream?”
He notices the look that Phil exchanges with the twins. “I killed him,” Techno says flatly.
Tommy’s breath catches. “He’s gone? He’s really gone?”
“Yeah, Theseus.” Techno crosses the living room to sit beside Tommy on the sofa. “He’s gone.”
It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.
He sobs, pressing his hands against his chest as he struggles to breathe. Techno touches him hesitantly, and Tommy leans against him. He’s safe here, he’s always safe with Techno.
Nightmare is dead. The long chase is over.
“Thank you,” Tommy gasps. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Techno holds him securely, hand rubbing up and down his back. “I’ve gotcha, Thes. You’re okay, you’re safe.”
“I’m safe.” He exhales, pressing his face into Techno’s shoulder. “It’s finally over.”
There’s a silence, and the sofa dips down at Tommy’s back. Feathers brush over him, and a hand settles on his knee. Wilbur’s, from the feel of the fingers.
“What’s over, Tommy?” Phil murmurs.
“Everything,” Tommy sighs, going boneless against Techno’s chest. “The chase. He’s been hunting me my whole life.”
Wilbur’s hand tightens on Tommy’s knee, Techno clutches him closer.
“He what?” Phil whispers.
“Hunting me. He hates magic. And I’m a witch, so he hates- hated me.”
“Tommy.” Wilbur’s voice breaks. “Why didn’t you tell us, sunshine?”
“He did,” Techno says, voice tense. “Right? You told us, when you came to live here, that Nightmare hurt you. But you didn’t know it was Dream?”
“’d never seen him without the mask.” Tommy twists in Techno’s arms, settling so he can see Phil and Wilbur too. “And he didn’t speak to me till that day.”
“I’m so sorry,” Phil whispers. “Tommy, I swear, if I’d known-”
“You didn’t. ‘s not your fault.” Tommy sighs, gaze flicking over to his dad. “And it’s over now.”
Techno’s grip tightens, and a low growl vibrates through him. Glancing up, Tommy sees his eyes tinged with red.
“Tech,” Phil says warningly.
He exhales, eyes fading back to normal. “Sorry, Tommy. I just… I wish I’d killed him a lot slower, s’all.”
“It’s okay.” Tommy curls back into him. “He’s dead, and it’s over.”
“Is that why you came to Essempii?” Wilbur takes a sharp breath. “Because of Dream?”
Tommy nods. “He chased me here from Logsteadshire. I figured I’d be safer here, with the city so big ‘n’ all.”
“And we led you right to him,” Wilbur whispers. He pulls back, looking horrified. “Gods, Tommy-”
“Don’t be stupid.” Tommy leans forward, snagging Wilbur’s arm and dragging him back. “You didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
Later, Wilbur comes to Tommy’s room while he’s getting ready for bed. The older teen just wanders around for a few minutes, and Tommy ignores him, figuring Wilbur just wants to be there.
“You know,” Wilbur says at last, his tone far too casual, “I’ve died, too.”
Tommy’s curled up in bed, and he glances over so quickly he hears his neck pop, wincing at the sensation. “You have?”
“Yeah.” Wilbur shifts. “Wanna see?”
Tommy hesitates, finally nodding.
Wilbur comes over from where he’d been stoking the fire, sitting on the edge of Tommy’s bed. He lifts his shirt to reveal a scar about the length of his index finger, just under his ribs. Tommy hesitantly traces it, purple threads of magic shimmering under his touch.
“I was assassinated when I was thirteen.” Wilbur’s voice is soft, a little distant. “They went after Techno, too, but Dad was there by then. Though he didn’t make it in time to stop me bleeding out.”
Tommy’s stomach flips at the thought of a Wilbur just a little younger than he is now, bleeding out and dying in Phil’s arms. “Did it hurt?” he whispers, pulling his hands back and watching the magic fade.
Wilbur pulls his nightshirt back down, leaving it untucked. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “It was more scary than anything else, but yeah. It hurt like a bitch.”
“So the purple, that’s…”
“Mom’s magic.” Wilbur presses his own hand over the spot for a second. “I think death is kind of a rite of passage in this family.”
“Techno’s died?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t ask him about that. We, ah- we don’t talk about it.”
“…and Phil?”
“Oh, Tommy.” Wilbur huffs, rolling his eyes. “I can’t count on both hands the number of times Phil has died. And that’s just the ones I know about.”
Tommy raises his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He has a heart attack yearly on his wedding anniversary, ever since Mom left. That’s ten already.” Wilbur shifts. “And he’s at least, like, three centuries old.”
Tommy’s breath catches. “You’re kidding.”
“Am not.” Wilbur grins. “Ask him about the siege of Pandorica sometime, he can get really going on that.”
Tommy leans back, holding up his hands. “Okay, okay, okay. Let me get this straight.”
Wilbur smirks, leaning his elbows on his knees.
“Your mother is the literal, actual Goddess of Death; Phil is, at minimum, three hundred years old; Techno hears voices in his head and occasionally goes into an uncontrollable rage and kills people; you got assassinated when you were thirteen; and you didn’t tell me any of this before you adopted me?”
“Yup!” Wilbur chirps. He grins, leaning forward to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “It’s too late to back out now.”
“I could leave.” Tommy lifts his chin. “If I wanted to.”
“Nope.” Wilbur’s grin is practically glowing. “Mom likes you. That means you’re stuck with us. Probably for eternity, given Her track record.”
Tommy groans, flopping back onto the sofa. “I’d say ‘kill me now’ but She would just send me back again.”
“Exactly.” Wilbur flops on top of him, his chin digging into Tommy’s chest. “You’re ours now.”
His heart swells with warmth and love, and Tommy curls into his brother, his own smile breaking free. “And you’re mine.”
Home. He is home.