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The bad men were at the Murphy’s house now. Tommy could just barely see the navy-clad guards and their pink haired boss knocking on their door through the window.
“Tommy, honey,” mom called out to him, but Tommy didn’t want to turn away from the window just yet. The worst one – all of the guards’ and their boss’ boss – was still out there. Mom and dad called him an emperor, but Tommy didn’t really understand what that was until Tubbo told him it was like a bossman. He still didn’t know why anyone bothered with the fancy title, but dad said it was important that he call him that too, so he did.
But the evil emperor-boss-man had wings. So did the pink haired man, but all Tommy got in terms of a look at his wings was a blur of dark red. He could see the evilest man’s wings clear as day. They were black – like tar and muck and all things icky. Tommy thought they fit him, with how mom and dad always described him.
“Thomas,” dad snapped, but Tommy didn’t pull his eyes away from the window until the emperor disappeared through the neighbor's door. Once he couldn’t see anything else, he leaned back from the window and peered back at his parents.
They were in the same places as before, so Tommy didn’t know why they sounded so upset. Mom was still leaning against the counter, arms folded as her eyes flicked between him, dad, and the evil person by the door; and dad was between the bad guy and mom. Even the stranger hadn’t moved while Tommy was looking out the window – they were still just standing in front of the door!
“Don’t look out there,” dad told Tommy sternly. It was his ‘shut up and listen’ voice – the type he’d use whenever they had the special guests over and Tommy interrupted them because he couldn’t sleep. His chin jerked towards mom. “Go stand with your mother.”
Tommy leaned back on his knees, mulling over whether he should listen or not. Mom and dad always wanted him watching the window when things were happening outside! It was, like, the law!
“Tommy, now,” dad demanded, eyes finally flicking to Tommy for a second. They looked scary – Tommy didn’t like it when dad looked at him like that…
So, he turned back around and slid off the couch, feet landing on the nice deer pelt carpet mom fashioned a few weeks ago. Tommy didn’t like how it felt – too leathery and not soft enough – so he took long steps to get to the normal, cold hardwood he was used to.
Once he was in the kitchen, mom wrapped her arm around Tommy’s shoulders and pulled him close to her side, rubbing small circles into his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, baby…”
A shrill scream echoed from outside before it was cut off, and mom’s breath hitched before she pulled him closer, her hand falling to the two tiny lumps on his back. Tommy pressed into the touch, nestling into mom’s side.
His wings hurt – he hated having to bind them for more than a few hours, even if mom and dad told him it was for his safety. And- and he’d already gone outside and played with Tubbo and Ranboo; he was supposed to let them out for bed, but then the evil people showed up, and mom tied the cloth straps pinning his wings down extra tight.
“My back ‘urts,” Tommy whispered into mom’s shirt. She didn’t say anything back, her hand slowly kneading the spot between Tommy’s wings. It was nice, but they still twitched with energy and anxiety. A quiet whine got pulled from his throat at their restlessness. “Mum…”
“Everyone needs to stay in this room,” the person blocking the front door – a soldier-guard like the other intruders, clad in the same navy blue and shiny armor – reminded them coldly. Tommy scowled at the words and stuck his tongue out at them. It was the polite way to tell someone to fuck off, Tubbo said.
Mom didn’t agree, though. She hissed a wordless scold at Tommy, and he shrunk back against the cabinets. It hurt his back more. “Sorry…”
“Tommy–”
Two raps on the door, distinct and loud, interrupted mom before she could get the words out. He could see her and dad freeze as the sounds echoed in the quiet room, but all Tommy could think about was how boring the knock was. Mom and dad’s friends all had their own knocks. Fancy ones that sometimes took a whole minute to do! Tommy and his friends even made up their own one day.
This was just…bleh.
The person in front of the door stepped aside at the knocks though, and opened the door for the knocker.
Some more guards came in at first, all clad in the same rich navy shades, but some of them had fancier outfits. Ones with shiny medals, embroidery, and progressively weirder hats.
That’s what really got Tommy’s attention; the one that was standing at the door had a normal helmet thingy. It was metal, and a strap set under his chin kept it from shaking too much. The ones at the door had these fabric ones– with shiny leather and sewn on patterns. Some were almost tall enough to get knocked off by the top of the door. Others were curved to the front, and others still to the side, like they were tired of holding themselves up.
But the next person who walked through the door didn’t wear a hat. He didn’t need one to be scary.
It was the pink haired man Tommy saw through the window. He was way taller than he looked out there, standing over everyone else in the room and towering over Tommy. His outfit, almost black in shade, was accented by woven gold on his cuffs and neckline. Similarly golden buttons went down his front, and all over his chest were medals that glinted in the light from the lamps on the walls. Black boots clacked on the floorboards, marking his every step while his hair, pulled into a tight braid that went down his back, swayed with the movement.
But the most scary thing about him was the two maroon wings that spread out behind his back. They were huge– at least twenty times the size of Tommy’s! And he had to pull them really tight to his back to fit through the door. When he was in the house, he let them spread again. The feathers shuffled against each other, brushing against the walls and even pushing against them before being reigned back in.
Definitely evil, Tommy thought, watching with a narrowed stare as the man’s red eyes surveyed his living room. They traced over the couch, the rug, the bookshelf pressed into the corner, his dad, the paintings Mr. Westfield had gifted Tommy’s parents, his mom…
And then landed on Tommy himself. They widened a fraction, but nothing else changed on his face. Soon, even that little sign of shock was gone, replaced by cold apathy. The man stepped to the side.
And finally came the evil emperor himself. He was shorter than the pink haired man, but he walked in with his chin held high and his black wings on display. The emperor’s hair was shorter than the other man’s too, only falling to his chin in straight lines. Like the curtains in Tommy’s room. Blond scruff was neatly etched onto his chin as well, and his outfit was a bright white that almost hurt Tommy’s eyes. It was decorated with gold and medals, and a sash of navy was slung across his chest. His eyes were a bright, icy blue.
They roamed over the room for all of a second before locking onto Tommy. It made him shrink back into mom’s side, but at least the emperor’s emotions were a bit easier to read. The man’s neutral expression twitched into a small frown at the sight of Tommy. But, just like his friend, the emperor schooled his face back to indifference in seconds flat.
“Greetings,” the emperor said, sounding polite, but not pleasant. “As you know, we have heard rumors about revolutionary activity happening on your street; but let me assure you, this is nothing but a simple search of your property. No harm will befall you or your family unless we find evidence of wrongdoing, and you will be compensated for any damage done.”
“We don’t have any ties with the revolution–” Tommy’s dad tried to argue.
“Then you have nothing to fear,” the emperor said, fixing those cold blue eyes onto him. Tommy watched his dad shuffle under the emperor’s eyes, worrying his lip silently. Without any other arguments, the emperor nodded to the pink haired man who then nodded to the soldiers.
Just as quietly as they entered, the men with the funny hats fanned out to search Tommy’s home. One of them stayed in the living room, another went down the hallway to the bathroom, and two more walked up the stairs towards the bedrooms.
As Tommy stared at those two, hoping they wouldn’t mess his room up too much, mom jerked him back to her side. When he glanced back at her, he saw that another soldier – the one that was guarding the door – was making a beeline for the kitchen.
“I’ll have to ask you to join your husband, ma’am,” the guy said blandly. “I have to check your cabinets and drawers.”
“It’s a kitchen cabinet,” Tommy’s mom said, using her ‘this is ridiculous’ voice she sometimes used in those secret, late-night meetings. Tommy stumbled alongside her as she left the kitchen. “There’s nothing but plates and glasses in ‘em.”
“Just stand aside,” the soldier said, pushing Tommy’s mom lightly on the shoulder to get her out of the way. She scoffed and scowled at him, and Tommy followed her lead, sticking his tongue out at him again just for good measure.
Tommy’s dad roped an arm around mom’s shoulder once she was close enough, glaring daggers at the soldier. “Watch it–”
But Tommy didn’t get to hear the rest of dad’s argument, because another guy (seriously, where did they keep coming from?) had grabbed Tommy’s shoulder.
“Hey bud,” the guy said softly, gently pulling Tommy away from his mother. “How about we go over there–” he nodded back towards the bare-threaded woolen couch Tommy was sitting on earlier “–and talk?”
Tommy didn’t even get a chance to say no before mom was pushing him to her side. “Don’t touch my son.”
“Ma’am–”
“The general and I need to ask you and your husband a few questions,” the emperor cut in, tilting himself to face Tommy’s mom instead of the general. “It’ll be best if the boy is elsewhere.”
Her hand tightened on Tommy’s shoulder – a vice grip that was sure to leave a bruise later. She glared at the emperor, and the emperor just looked back impassively, the wing closest to her and Tommy slowly unfurling. Tommy shuffled away from it, not wanting to touch the tar-feathers ever; but that just let it force Tommy and his mom apart!
“...fine,” she muttered once the wing was a quarter of the way to blocking Tommy’s view of her. It was immediately pulled back to the emperor’s back as he repeated the sentiment with a satisfied nod.
“Let’s go, kid,” the kinder bad soldier said, pulling Tommy to the couch while his mom and dad were cornered by the emperor and…was it general? Tommy didn’t know what that was…
“Are you feeling alright?” The question brought Tommy’s eyes back to the green haired soldier. Tommy looked him over quickly. His hat was the floppy, tired one that slumped to one side, and he had a lot of medals too. “Bud?”
“’m okay,” Tommy mumbled, rubbing his eye. The guard laughed a little at that, the sound a deep, nice one.
“Tired, are you? Can’t say that’s surprising. It’s late,” he said, and they finally reached the couch. Without a second thought, the man picked him up and plopped him onto the cushions before joining him. It was weird– mom and dad never did that, not even when he was a baby. This guy was weird, Tommy decided. Weird and evil. He almost felt bad for him.
“My name’s Sam,” he told Tommy. He looked too big for the couch, Tommy thought. Sam wasn’t as tall as the general guy, but he looked all bunched up on it. “What’s your name?”
“Uhm…Tommy.” Tommy’s parents taught him how to act with strangers who asked questions: say no or I don’t know. He couldn’t really say that with his name, though.
Sam smiled kindly. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy. Do you know what’s happening?”
Oh, well that’s a perfect question! Tommy brightened a little and said, “No.” This should be easy!
“That’s okay,” Sam told him before saying, “We’re here because Emperor Philza heard that some bad people were doing bad things on your street. Have you heard about anything like that, Tommy?”
Tommy shook his head, but his brows pulled into a furrow. Sam noticed and commented on it. “You look a little mad, kiddo. Anything I should know about?”
“No,” Tommy said simply. “But- but you guys are the bad ones.” His neighbors were nice- certainly nicer than Sam and his friends. Tommy didn't want to let Sam say they were bad.
Sam’s dark green eyes widened a fraction. “Really? Who told you that, kiddo?”
Tommy opened his mouth to say that mom and dad did before remembering their advice. His jaw shut with a little click. “...I dunno.”
“It’s okay,” Sam rushed to reassure him. “You won’t get in trouble if you tell me who.”
But Tommy could tell that this was one of the types of questions mom and dad didn’t want him answering right. He shook his head again. “Dunno.”
“...That’s fine,” Sam relented after another moment. “How about you ask me some questions?”
And that…wasn’t something Tommy thought could happen. Mom and dad always taught him what to do when he was asked a question, not what questions he should ask! So, Tommy wracked his brain for something– anything to ask that wouldn’t make mom and dad mad.
“Wha’s a general?” is what he settled on after a few seconds.
Sam laughed a bit, blinked more, and leaned back, pulling a gloved hand through his short hair. “I– well… A general is the highest ranking officer in our military. See that man over there?” He nodded to the pink haired man with maroon wings staring daggers at Tommy’s dad. “That’s the Antarctic Empire’s royal general: Technoblade. He’s in charge of the whole army for Emperor Philza.”
Tommy stared a little longer than Sam before frowning and turning back around. “He seems mean,” Tommy remarked.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Sam agreed, which surprised Tommy. That was, like, illegal. People didn’t talk bad about the crown– that was why mom and dad had their friends over in secret! He only got away with it ‘cause he was a kid, but Sam just smiled down at Tommy. “But that’s just because he’s working. He’s nice when he’s not. Promise.”
And that…made sense, Tommy supposed. Mom and dad got a little mean when they were working, too. So did Tubbo when he was working on his projects. “Oh. Okay.”
“Sir!” one of the guards called as he descended the stairs. “We’ve got something!”
Craning his head around to look behind him again, Tommy saw the guard – one with a really tall hat – hand off some papers to the general, who read over them silently. Meanwhile, the emperor just looked at mom and dad, who looked cold. Tommy remembered when a man fell asleep by their house during a snowstorm – how white his skin was and how still he was – and his parents looked like that. He...didn’t like that.
“Commander?” the other soldier that went upstairs said, bringing both Sam and Tommy’s attention to his solemn expression. A plush cow, worn down from years of love, sat in his hands.
“How bad..?” Sam asked, his expression pinched in some emotion that Tommy couldn’t place.
The other soldier just shook his head though, passing the cow to Sam before walking back to the others. Tommy kept his eyes on his parents and the evil people.
“...You should read these,” Tommy caught the general saying as he passed the bundle of loose papers to the emperor. He watched as blue eyes skimmed over everything, eyebrows slowly knitting together until just a sigh and two words were said.
“I’m disappointed.”
“Hey, Tommy,” Sam said, bringing Tommy’s head back around to him. He was holding the cow out in front of him now. “Is this little guy yours? What’s his name?”
“‘s Henry,” Tommy muttered. “What’s ‘appening..?”
“You have a child–” the emperor hissed, dragging Tommy’s eyes back to him. “He can’t be older than five. He needed you, and you’ve orphaned him. All for some stupid power fantasy.”
“You’re the one who–” Tommy’s dad started shouting. But–
“Do you have any games you play with Henry? Any stories?” Sam asked, pulling his attention once more. His smile looked faker by the minute. “I’d really like to hear them.”
“Uhm… ” Tommy didn’t know what to say, so he went to his training. “No…”
“Let go of her!” dad screamed, and Tommy’s head whipped back to see the tall hatted soldier holding mom’s hands behind her back while she thrashed. One with a front swoopy hat did the same to dad, and he kept shouting the kinds of words he told Tommy never to say to someone at him. “You’re all fucking swine !”
“Come on, Tommy,” Sam implored gently, his voice as strained as his smile. “There’s got to be something, right?”
“No–” Tommy was stuck looking between Sam and his parents, a funny feeling starting up in his stomach and spreading to everywhere else. Like his whole body was his wings: restless and chalk full of energy, but only able to twitch due to some invisible binds. “I- I dunno–”
“Tommy!” his mother shrieked, making Tommy jump. She’d never sounded like this before– he didn’t- didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t fucking like it! He wanted to help, to do something!
But a gloved hand had wrapped itself around his arm before he could even get up. Not a second later, he was pulled against scratchy fabric and cold metal. "Shh, shh… Don’t look over there, kid…”
One hand had already knotted itself in Tommy’s hair, forcing him to keep his eyes on the navy fabric of Sam's uniform rather than the shouts and screams behind him. Tommy didn’t know what to do for a while, stuck still in shock. Soon after the sounds of his front door being slammed open hit his ears though, Tommy started struggling as much as he could, which only ended with Sam’s other arm pinning his torso.
“Just keep listening to me, alright?” Sam muttered, the vibrations from his voice reverberating from his chest. More shushes came, but Tommy wasn’t listening.
“Tommy!” mom shouted again, tears in her voice. Tommy’s breathing felt funny now – too fast and not enough at the same time.
“Mum–!” he shouted through the fabric. “Dad!”
“Shh- shh–”
“Daddy! Mommy–” a scream broke his voice. “MUM, DAD–!”
“Bring him out with the other orphans once he’s calm,” the emperor told Sam like nothing was wrong. Tommy just screamed more and more, thrashing every limb he could to try and get free. His arms hit Sam’s shoulder uselessly, his legs kicked wildly, and his wings just strained and strained–
A wordless scream tore out of Tommy’s throat as he felt something rip in his back. It was- was like the one time Tommy had touched the fire as a baby. Burning, but in his wing – oh gods, he couldn’t move his wing anymore–!
The hand on his back was massaging gentle patterns down his spine as hysterical hiccups bubbled out of his lungs. It didn’t help at all – his throat felt sore, his wing wouldn’t move, his eyes hurt from all the crying, he was tired, he couldn’t see mom or dad–
And something was touching his wings through the back of his shirt. Renewed struggle wracked Tommy’s frame as the hand traced over the little lumps that were his wings; because- because dad said that no one, no one, should ever touch Tommy’s wings because that would get them all in trouble!
Sam’s hand didn’t move from the area, though. It pressed experimentally through the cotton of his bindings and bed shirt, fingers gently smoothing over the tiny bumps that concealed downy fluff underneath. They even started wrapping around Tommy’s good wing, but he chased off the hand with a strained half-flap, followed up by a keening wail when that made the not-fire fire burn brighter in his back.
The guard’s breath hitched, the quiet words, “ Oh my gods… ” getting to Tommy’s ears in the lull of his crying. “Oh my– your majesty–! Fuck–!”
Another whining yelp bounced out of Tommy’s lungs when he was suddenly lifted up. He still couldn’t see very well past the fabric of Sam’s outfit, but a sliver of the outside could be seen between the man’s torso and his arm. Mom and dad weren’t there, but Henry–
Tommy summoned up another screech as he watched Henry’s limp cloth body get further and further from him, abandoned on the couch. Her one white button eye ( the other was long gone) and threadbare smile staring emptily up at him as Sam carried him past the dark wood of the front door.
It was really cold – the nightly snowfall had already started dumping its fat, lazy flakes onto anyone below. They left a smattering of cold water on his hands and through his shirt. Darkness had obscured the street from his sliver of view, but he could see the front light of his house, the flame slowly dying in the glass.
“Your majesty!” Sam shouted again, his footsteps quick against the uneven cobblestone of Tommy’s street. “Sir!”
Something sighed in front of him, but then the now familiar voice of the general spoke, a lit of something in his voice. “Yes, commander? Is he giving you too much trouble?”
“No sir, but there’s– there’s something on his back, sir!”
Sam’s hand moved again, now dropping to the bottom of Tommy’s back. He heard another footstep, clacking loud against the rocks, before the general hummed. “I don’t see an injury, commander–”
“It’s not– I think it might be wings, sir!”
There was nothing but Tommy’s strained wails, sniffles, and coughs after that. Just seconds of what should’ve been tense, energized silence broken by quiet whines and whimpers. And the occasional shove from Tommy’s continued struggle for freedom.
Until the emperor said, “Hold him still.”
Tommy yelped again when the arms around him tightened, holding him firmly in place against Sam’s chest. Whatever struggle Tommy had was gone– replaced by sheer exhaustion that sunk into his very bones.
But still, he managed a few pitiful squirms when something sharp met the neckline of his shirt, as well as a flinch when it sliced down his back. Cold met his exposed skin as the back of his shirt fell open, making more tremors shake through his body. The only things that were spared, ironically enough, were his upper back and wings, wrapped tightly in the stained cloth mom and dad used to hide the feathered limbs.
Something between a gasp and a stifled caw came from behind him, and soon a new pair of hands – cold, cold, cold ones – met the fabric. They traced over the lumps that were Tommy’s hidden wings just as Sam’s had. “In the name of Death herself…”
The sharp thing came back, but Tommy didn’t even have the time to flinch before it was slashed down the rag. Cold hands came back and pulled the bindings away from the wings; but, instead of flaring them out like he wanted to just minutes earlier, Tommy kept the both of them tucked tight to his back. It made the fire burn more and the little limbs shake, but that was better than the emperor poking and prodding at them.
Another round of stifled gasps; this time shared by the emperor, the general, and whichever guards were around. Careful, gentle, cold fingers traced along the rigid limbs before stopping just below where they met Tommy’s back.
“It’s okay, hatchling.” The emperor’s voice was nothing more than a quiet murmur. One finger pressed into the spot below his good wing, and it flapped out without Tommy’s say so! It- it wouldn’t even fold back, either! Soon, he did it to the other wing, but that one just twitched before hanging limp. “... hand him to me.”
The cold hit Tommy’s face as he was pulled from Sam by the cold hands – the emperor’s hands. They wrapped around his torso and supported him, slowly turning him so that, instead of facing Sam’s wide black eyes, he was looking into the emperor’s dilated blue ones.
“Hi mate,” Emperor Philza murmured, his head tilted, making his straw blond hair hang to his side. The dark blended his face together into just the few simple features: eyes, hair, nose, and mouth, which was parted ever so slightly. “You’ve had a rough night, huh?”
“I- I want my mum,” Tommy repeated, trying desperately to keep the wavering from his voice but failing miserably. “‘n- and I wan’ my dad.”
“I know, I know,” the emperor muttered, his eyebrows pinching for a moment as he looked at something above Tommy’s head. Once the nearly black eyes locked back onto Tommy, though, that furrow was smoothed. “How about we go to my nest instead? It’s warm and has all the soft things you’ll need after tonight–”
“I wan’ mum ‘n dad!” Tommy insisted, a whine accompanying the demand. “I want to go home– why can’t you leave?! We didn't do anythin'!”
Emperor Philza didn’t even say anything to that– he just made this weird whistley sound that made Tommy’s head hurt and his throat clench. Tommy coughed to get the sound away.
“No-no-no,” the emperor said quickly when he heard Tommy’s raspy coughs. “Don’t do that, hatchling. Just let it out–”
“Phil..?” The moment was cut short by the general, and it was like a switch flipped in the emperor.
A rattling hiss replaced the softer sounds, and Tommy was tugged to a chest full of scratchy fabric and cold, pokey metal edges. A strained yelp came from Tommy as he struggled against the iron grip that was now the emperor’s previously soft hold. Tommy’s chest felt tight again, and his breathing got to that same shallow, funny spot it was at before.
Then, just as fast as it came, the anger vanished with a quiet coo.
“Sor–” the emperor cleared his throat “–Sorry mate…” The hand that had pressed under Tommy’s wings started gently massaging the base of his bad wing – the one with the fiery feeling in it.
Another sound – this one a trill of some sort – came from the general, the pitch a tad deeper than the emperor’s. “You want me to finish up here?”
“Yes, yes–” the emperor sighed, the sound echoing up in a rumble from his lungs. “Do it quickly, though. Most of them are guilty anyway, and we’re all gonna need to resocialize this little guy. Oh- what’s his name?”
“Tommy,” Sam told him, now further away than any of the other voices. Aside from the near silent whispers all around, of course. “His wing, is it..?”
“Strained,” the general said. “Maybe torn, if the bindings were tight enough, but he’ll heal.” Then, louder, “Fall out to the next house! His majesty will be returning to the castle – don’t follow him!”
There were a bunch of footsteps then. A big clattering of noises from everywhere – but Tommy couldn’t see anything but the shaded white of the emperor’s clothes and small slivers of shadowy people. They went in and out of his tiny viewing window – way too quick for him to get a good look.
The hand on his back moved again, now tracing over the matted downy fluff that covered his wings. Another cooing sound came from the emperor – out of his chest and into the air. Tommy just whined as his throat got tight again, shutting his eyes and trying to ignore…well, everything.
A deep sigh accompanied the coo seconds later. “You’re gonna need a lot of work, huh mate?”
“I wanna go home," Tommy insisted once more. This time, though, he fully expected the rambling ‘no’ the emperor gave him.
In fact, he didn’t even listen to his words. There was something about a flock, a nest, instincts, and a bajillion coos, caws, and trills that peppered the spiel; but Tommy couldn’t repeat a word of it if he tried, and the emperor picked up on that a few minutes in.
When the emperor finally started moving, he didn’t say a word. He just made those same quiet bird sounds sometimes. Tommy distantly thought it was odd, but he couldn’t care that much about it. He couldn’t care that much about anything anymore– he just- just wanted to go home to his bed and curl up with Henry and pretend all of this was a bad dream.
While he wasn’t given Henry or his bed, as he got more and more tired from the constant sway of walking, Tommy did feel his thoughts slipping. Everything got tinged in a sheen of fog, and whatever memories he tried to pull up were fuzzy, hazy messes that he couldn’t focus on. Until finally, with an all but silent huff, he fell asleep to the rocking of steps.
Above his head, the emperor sighed again and cooed, one wing drifting to curl around his new found child. Rest would claim him just the same when he got to his nest, as would his instincts (he was already pushing them back with every bit of damage he noticed on the boy), but right now, he had to get Tommy to his actual home.
Where he should've been all along.