Chapter Text
Tommy’s been walking for what feels like forever.
He’s not sure what keeps him going anymore, except the need to get as far away from Logsteadshire as he can. The panic is muted now, but every sound from behind sends him into a new frenzy.
How did Nightmare find him, anyway? He was doing so well hiding his magic. Using just a little bit when he needed it, just to keep himself alive, and only ever where no one could see.
But Tommy has awful luck. That’s as much a part of him as the golden magic woven through his body. Nothing ever goes right for him.
Tommy pauses in the fringes of the forest, gazing down at Essempii, capital of the Antarctic Empire. At the castle that looms, imposing, over the city.
He should be safe here, if he’s ever going to be safe anywhere. The Emperor has a reputation for tolerance- Tommy’s heard rumors that he has magic, himself- and the city is huge. Altogether, this is his best chance at staying hidden from Nightmare.
Tommy staggers down the road, glad that he’d thought to put a warming charm on his shoes before he left. The snow is only a few inches deep at this time of year, but it’s still really fucking cold.
He’s almost to safety. Soon, he’ll be able to rest.
Tommy sets up shop in an alley behind a bakery near the city center. It’s far from the worst place he’s lived- there’s an empty woodshed that gives some shelter from the cold, and the lady who owns the shop throws out stale baked goods at the end of every night, so he’s eating, too.
No one’s bothered him yet, surprisingly. Tommy hasn’t even had to use his magic.
But as the days grow colder, he starts to consider it.
The whole Empire is cold, all the time, but this is just ridiculous. Tommy can’t stop shivering- a mercy in disguise, because if he’s shivering, then at least he’s not so cold that hypothermia is gonna kill him.
He resorts to petty thievery, desperate for the warmer clothes he can buy with the few coins he manages to pickpocket.
Right now, Tommy’s got his eye on a tall man wearing a long coat and red beanie. He’s clearly not paying attention to where he is or where he’s going, which makes him an easy target.
The man stops to look in a shop window, and Tommy makes his move. He slips one hand into the pocket of the man’s coat, fingers closing around a leather pouch. Success.
He pulls it out and starts down the street, but a hand closes on his wrist. “Hey!”
Tommy whips around, teeth bared to bite the man to make him let go. He pauses to actually look at him first- soft brown curls peek out from under the beanie, and the man watches him with dark eyes behind round glasses.
He’s wearing a dangling emerald earring. The symbol of the royal family.
Tommy freezes. Holy shit. Holy shit, he just tried to steal from one of the Princes of the Antarctic Empire-
“I’m sorry,” he babbles, dropping to his knees and holding out the purse. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me-”
He hates himself for begging. Hates that when faced with someone more powerful than himself, his instinct is to fawn.
“You’re a child,” the man says, with a note of surprise in his voice.
Tommy keeps his gaze on the Prince’s boots. “Please, don’t hurt me- I was just hungry, I didn’t know who you were, I’m sorry-”
“Hey, hey- it’s okay.” The Prince’s other hand cups his elbow, and he pulls Tommy to his feet. “What’s your name?”
Tommy’s not stupid enough to actually tell him. For all he knows, Nightmare followed him to the capital. Maybe has even made up some excuse like he did years ago in Pogtopia, like claiming that Tommy was a wanted thief. He’s just lucky that the lord had taken one look at him- eight years old, skinny and sick- and laughed Nightmare out of the room.
He shoves the purse back at the Prince, refusing to look at the man. “Please, just take it and let me go-”
The Prince takes the purse back, but he doesn’t let go of Tommy’s wrist. “You said you were hungry, right?”
Tommy hesitates, finally nodding.
“You look cold, too.” The Prince tugs at his wrist, but gently. “Let me get you something to eat.”
“No- no, you don’t have to do that-”
“It’s okay, kid, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The Prince wraps his arm around Tommy’s shoulders, apparently not noticing how Tommy flinches at the contact. “C’mon, a friend of mine runs a bakery near here.”
Tommy wants to protest, but he’s freezing and starving and if he has to, he can spell the man and run. And besides, who is he to pass up a free meal?
To his horror, the Prince takes him to the very bakery Tommy’s been living behind.
He doesn’t think the owner’s ever seen him, but this makes things risky. Still. It’s free food.
“Hi, Niki,” the Prince says cheerfully as he pulls Tommy inside.
The pink-haired woman leans on the counter. “Are you supposed to be out here by yourself, Wilbur?”
Wilbur. Not Prince Wilbur, or ‘your highness’. Tommy wonders who, exactly, this woman is, that she gets to be on a first name basis with royalty.
Also, shit. Tommy tried to steal from the Crown Prince. He is so fucking dead.
“Probably not,” the Prince laughs.
She hums, swiping her rag over the counter and leaving it at the end. “What can I do for you today, then? And don’t say a baker’s dozen. I know that was you.”
The Prince sounds sheepish when he answers. “I can pay you back-”
“Eh, don’t worry about it.” Niki waves her hand. “I’ll just charge it to the Emperor.”
He laughs. Tommy’s head spins- he doesn’t understand any of this. Why someone is being so flippant with the Crown Prince of all people-
“Can I have two bowls of the soup of the day, please?” The Prince leans on the counter opposite her, still not letting go of Tommy’s shoulder. “And two of the honey loaves, maybe?”
“Sure. But you have to pay this time, or I will tell your father,” Niki says with a light laugh.
Her gaze catches on Tommy, and he drops his own gaze quickly. Please please please-
“Hey, I recognize you,” Niki says, and Tommy stiffens.
“I don’t think-” he starts to say.
“It’s okay, hon. I leave that food there on purpose for people to find.”
He relaxes. She’s seen him taking food, that’s all. She doesn’t know he sleeps in the alley behind her shop.
Tommy is safe, for now.
Thankfully, the Prince doesn’t try to get Tommy to talk while they eat. Which is nice, because as soon as Tommy smells the soup, he realizes that he’s ravenous.
He fights the urge to swallow it down as quickly as he can, forces himself to take it slow. He knows from experience that if he eats too much too fast, he’ll throw up later. And he really needs this food.
The Prince doesn’t speak to him at all until they’re both standing in the street outside of Niki’s bakery.
“Do you have a place to sleep?”
Tommy flinches, bobs his head.
“Oh.” The Prince almost sounds disappointed. “Family?”
Tommy almost laughs. He’s never had a family. At least, that he can remember.
He nods, anyway.
“Well, ah- I should probably let you go, then. They must be worried.”
He lets go, and Tommy readies himself to run-
Something warm and heavy drapes over his shoulders. It takes Tommy a second to realize he’s wrapped in the Prince’s coat.
“I can’t take this,” Tommy says, heart in his throat. “You- you already gave me food, and I don’t have any way to repay you-”
“How about telling me your name?” the Prince asks, gentler.
Tommy hesitates. “Tommy,” he says at last.
“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Wilbur.”
“Thank you,” Tommy says, because he should be polite. “Uh, I really need to go now.”
The Prince doesn’t stop him as he slips away, vanishing into the crowd. Looking back, he sees the man gazing after him, his yellow sweater the brightest spot in the crowd.
Tommy thinks he kind of likes Wilbur.
~~~
Wilbur tries not to think about Tommy through his whole walk home.
Key word being tries. He can’t get the kid out of his head.
See, Wilbur’s not buying Tommy’s story about having family to go home to. Kids who have families aren’t half starved and half frozen, and typically bathe often enough to not smell bad. It’s true that there are poor people, even here in Essempii, but there are laws in place to help them for a reason.
Which does bring up the issue of why, exactly, Tommy’s not taking advantage of the shelters scattered around the city.
Wilbur slips in through the garden, dead for now under a blanket of snow. He’s stepping back through the door into the castle when he hears the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat, and freezes.
“What half-dead animal did you pick up this time?” Techno asks, voice rumbling.
Wilbur turns slowly to face his twin. “What makes you think I did?”
Techno huffs, flicking his long pink braid over his shoulder. “You lost another coat.”
“Oh.” Wilbur glances at his sweater.
“So, what didja find?”
“A kid.” Wilbur starts up the stairs.
Techno follows him. “A kid,” he repeats, deadpan.
“Yeah.” Wilbur glances over his shoulder. “He was hungry. And cold- you shoulda seen him, Tech, his clothes were in really bad shape. I don’t think he could’ve been more than, like, eleven years old.”
Techno sighs heavily. “Oh, boy.”
“What’s ‘oh boy’?”
“You’re attached. To some random kid you met in the city. After you snuck out, which you know full well you are not supposed to do.” Techno grabs his shoulder, turning Wilbur to face him. “Do you want to get assassinated? Again?”
Wilbur scoffs, jerking free of his twin’s hold. “You know Mom would just send me back if I did.”
“That’s not an excuse for recklessness!” Techno hisses.
“Okay, fine, whatever. You know I’m not gonna stop, so why try?” Wilbur smirks. “If you don’t want me to go alone, then come with me.”
Techno sets his jaw, looking away. He doesn’t say anything.
“Anyway, I’m going to look for that kid again tomorrow.” Wilbur starts up the last flight of stairs to the family wing. “Just to check on him.”
He’s not attached. He’s just worried. A kid that age shouldn’t be alone, especially not in the middle of winter.