Chapter Text
When Tommy was born, it seemed like magic was everywhere, but that was just because he was born into a small community where nobody felt the need to hide. They took care of their own and he felt loved by his mother and the rest of the community… just like every other child in the village. He thought he would live his entire life happy and content in that glade.
His memories are vague from this time, but he could remember the pillaging of his village. He could still remember the way the homes were burnt and people screamed. He could still remember his mother grabbing him tightly, whispering something to him, that feeling of intense magic being wrapped around him like warm blanket. Most of all, he could still remember her thrusting their family book at him and the cries for him to run and his bare feet pounding on the ground as he fled into the night.
As he hid in the forest for a few years, he didn't notice as his aging slowed to a stop until he was fifteen. When he did notice, it was much to late to reverse what his mother had done.
He didn't know how long he had stayed in the forest, but he did stay for a while, hidden in a cave that was blocked by a wall of vines. He studied the book by the fire and read about his people and their beliefs and their history. It had more pages than assumed and he was able to learn more about his magic and how to access it. He soaked up everything he could in that book.
When Tommy did finally step outside of the forest, he noticed a lot had changed… so he had to adapt. He started learning the language, which seemed to make the locals like him because they were working hard on converting "savages." This was England now, "land of the angels"… he called bullshit on that, because the angels he was practically forced to learn about wouldn't slaughter his people for just existing.
Tommy learned how to survive in this new world, learned to keep moving so his abilities weren't discovered. He survived the worst of England's history by moving around. He didn't want to leave the part of earth his people used to walk on… so he didn't travel outside the island. He just stayed put.
When the plague hit in the 14th-century, he became a doctor. He didn't want to just sit back and watch, especially since he learned quick he doesn't get ill. When he knew there was nothing he could do, he would whisper a small blessing his people used to say to ⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⌿⍀⟟⋔⟒, their goddess, wishing them safe passage to the next life.
In the 1600's, Tommy learned of the New World and he longed to travel there, in hopes that maybe some of his people were there too. He heard about the people there being called "savages" and it reminded him of what him and his people were called. People who weren't like them. Anyone who was different.
He didn't go though, instead, he opened a store that served a wide variety of customers. Whenever he learned of people whispering of his age and identity, he would lock up the store at night and just move it. It was easy, for him, at least. He lived above it and when he moved he always picked somewhere empty and only the bottom floor would change to fit the new area, his living quarters always stayed the same unless he willed the rooms to change.
The purpose of his store changed in the late 1700's, when he repurposed it to solely be a bookstore. He loved reading and would read every night, using his magic to place him into these new worlds as he read. It was lovely.
The store remained the same for awhile… until phonographs were invented and as soon as they became widespread, he started selling some music. It was nice to play some throughout the day.
During the World Wars, Tommy didn't fight. It would've been a sure way to get caught and taken to be some science experiment. He also saw it as that those weren't his people taking bullets, but the people who slaughtered his kind… why should he risk his safety for them? Why should he use his abilities to end their suffering when he was forced to suffer daily on his own?
During that time, though, he moved his store to smaller towns. It was less likely to be bombed and less likely for suspicions when his store didn't get blown up. He made sure to open his store up to kids, though, reading them stories to distract them from the world outside. The way he saw it, the kids didn't do anything, but they'll grow up to be just like them. He has no hate for the kids… just what they'll grow up to be.
The 1960's was a fun time, in Tommy's opinion. He was still a teenager after all… and nobody questions the random shit a high teen will say. He had never experimented before and because he never got sick, he had no need for drugs before. However, the crashes sucked and he hated them. Only reason he stopped, he hated the crashes after… otherwise he would've kept getting high because it was a great distraction from the pain he felt inside every day.
During the 60's a man, appearing a little older than Tommy, stopped in. He had long brown hair and when he bought something, he was very clearly American. With the long hair, Tommy assumed he was a hippie of sorts and asked why he was in the UK, wondering if he was there to listen to the Beatles or something. No, he was there to visit an old friend, but kept eyeing Tommy strangely.
The immortal teen brushed off the interaction and decided to move that night, just in case. He assumed he would never see the man again.
When cameras and identity cards became more common, he found a way to bypass all that. He made a simple spell that would erase any digital tie to him. Cameras would only see a small blur, but nothing out of the ordinary. If a police officer asked for an ID, he would simply wave his hand and the officer left confused. There didn't need to be a physical trace of him… well… he did have a fake ID for patrons worried about how old he was. He knew the people themselves remembered interacting with him… just not always why. It was why he had to keep moving.
Jump forward to modern day and he was opening the shop up for the day and getting everything ready for the patrons. His store wasn't as busy as it had been in previous years, but it was still a nice routine. He then unlocked the door and turned on the music choice for the day and sat back, reading a new book.
It was just past noon, he was reopening the store after lunch, when a blur of pink hair rushed in. He was pushed back and the door was slammed shut and relocked. He was prepared to defend his store at any cost, but when the person turned around, he froze.
Part of whatever curse his mother had put onto him, because living this life was a curse more than a blessing, was that he could remember everything. That face… he had seen it once before… in the 60's. Not for the first time in his life, he felt faint as he stumbled back.
Before he could even utter out a sound, the man glared at him, "do you know how hard it was to find you again?" When the teen didn't answer, the man looked at him with confusion, "you good, kid?"
Tommy shook his head slowly before darting upstairs and slamming the door to his private residence shut and locking it. His heart pounded fast than fists pounding on his door. He swallowed thickly as he backed away and loudly asked, "who are you?"
There was a loud groan of annoyance, "just let me in and we can talk this out!"
"No!" Tommy cried out, "who are you and how are you here? You should be old or dead or something!"
There was a pause, then, "did you really think you were the only immortal in the world?" Tommy's world seemed to come crashing down, "that's a bit self-centered."
For a moment, the immortal teen couldn't breathe. Had there been others like him the whole time? Did his residual magic cause this? Then his eyes widened, were his people still around? He rushed forward and swiftly unlocked and opened the door, his heart felt like it was about to beat right out of his chest. He looked this man up and down with wide, wild eyes, "were you from the ⌿⍜☌⏁⍜⌿⟟⏃ people?"
The man looked at him, confused, "what language was that?"
That question crushed Tommy as he slowly backed away again, his face falling. He didn't bother to close the door again as he numbly made his way to his couch, collapsing on it. "I'm still alone," he muttered.
The man, who had followed the teen to the sitting area, froze, swallowing thickly. "You're not alone, though," he told the teen this as though it was common knowledge as he finally sat across from him, "there are a few of us."
The teen looked up, his eyes much duller than just mere moments earlier. He shook his head, moving on from the hope he had felt for a brief moment, "how did you even find me?"
The man sighed, "it took a lot of time to notice you just wandering around. I was going to come back the next day last time, but you had already moved by then. Nifty trick, by the way."
Tommy took in that information and nodded slowly, "who even are you? How did you figure out that I don't age?"
The man sent him a tense smile, "my name is Technoblade and I could sense the same sort of magic that Phil has. It's ancient and it's clear that you've been blessed by a deity or some-"
Techno was cut off by Tommy shaking his head, "my mother blessed me before telling me to run. No deity involved."
The pink haired man stared at him for a moment before saying, "your magic reeks like Kristin's. What do you mean she wasn't involved?"
"Who-" this time Tommy cut himself off, "wait, I know that name." He slowly stood up and made his way to his bedroom, kneeling down in front of an antique trunk at the foot of his bed, ignoring that Techno followed him. He brought his hand to his neck and touched the leather cord that was situated there, just out of sight. Lifted it over his head, revealed a key that had been hidden.
With a deep breath, Tommy unlocked the trunk and slowly took out the book his mother had given him, flipping it open. He couldn't see Techno's eyes widen, but he heard him as he said, "that's a dead language."
The teen glanced up at the man and glared, "it's not dead if I still speak it." Then he looked back at the book and flipped through the pages until he reached the section on his people's beliefs, images of the deities they had worshiped. He hummed, "you mentioned a deity and said the name of Kristin," he carefully lifted the book up to the man, "can you tell me if you see her?"
Techno was careful when he looked through the pages, his fingers were gentle as he turned each one. He was on the last page of the section when he paused, "that's Kristin" he spoke with a certainty as he showed Tommy.
The teen looked at the image Techno was pointing at, "⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⎅⟒⏃⏁⊑?" He glanced back up at the man, "that doesn't make any sense, we had a shrine to her sister, ⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⌿⍀⟟⋔⟒ in our home. Why would-?" He carefully took the book back and looked carefully at the woman in the book.
"I could call Phil and ask him to ask his wife," Techno shrugged.
The teen furrowed his brows in confusion as he finally put the book away, locking the trunk once more, "who's Phil?"
"He's my friend, uh," Techno let himself be led out of the room, "he's also married to Kristin."
Tommy, rounded on the man, "what do you mean he's married to ⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⎅⟒⏃⏁⊑?"
The man raised his hands and backed up slightly, "to be fair, he's slightly insane."
Tommy looked at him, baffled, "that doesn't-" he shook his head, "y'know what, just call him." He then collapsed back onto the couch and sighed as he could still feel his world being turned upside down.
The pink haired man sighed as he sat down again as well, pulling out his phone. It was a slightly older model that the teen guessed was from the mid to late 2010's. He pressed a few button before putting the phone to his ear, nodding slightly when it appeared this 'Phil' person answered, "hey, uh, I met the kid I told you about." He bit his lip as he listened to the person, his brows furrowing, "are you sure?" Techno rolled his eyes as he pulled the device away from his ear, sighing, and pressed a button as he held it out, "you're on speaker."
"Hey mate," the voice spoke clearly through the phone, causing Tommy to sit up a bit. They weren't American like Techno and it seemed to put the teen slightly at ease, "I heard you were a hard one to pin down, Tech's been trying to pick up your signature ever since you vanished." That did not put Tommy at ease, "how did you even manage that?"
The teen rubbed his hands together, "I- uh, I have an incantation that I made that allows me to move the store at night if I need to leave."
Techno's eyes widened as the person seemed to exclaim what there were both thinking, "you made that spell? That must take a lot out of you to just move the place."
Tommy shrugged, "not really, I've been doing it since the mid-1600's. It's not that hard, especially because I mastered my abilities long before that."
Silence. That, if anything, put the teen back on edge, "how long have you been around?"
That's when Tommy froze, he hadn't thought about that in a long time. His hands started to shake, "um, I- I'm not entirely-" he cut himself off as he kept his gaze towards the floor as he exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. "I think-" another shaky breath as he closed his eyes to remember what he wished he didn't, "the Romani- uh, Romans, were still exploring and pillaging this country when they slaughtered my people." He slowly opened his eyes, "I- I'm not sure how long ago that was though."
There was a moment of silence, then, "you were around for the Romans?" That was Techno and his voice made Tommy look back up at his shocked face. When he slowly nodded, the man inhaled sharply, his eyes glancing at the phone he held, "Phil, I think you should really talk to Kristin."
After a second or two, "I think you're right." A deep breath was heard, "mate," Tommy wasn't sure who the man was addressing… until, "what's your name?"
The teen blinked slowly, "uh, Tommy. I- I go by Tommy Innit these days, I picked it up around the 1870's. Thomas was too formal and I stopped liking Weaver as a last name after a while."
"What about your real name?" Techno asked, cutting in.
The teen glared at him lightly, "you can't just ask that, man. That's a bit private, innit?"
As Techno's eyes widened, he began to swiftly apologize, but froze when the teen started laughing quite loudly.
"Jeez man, I'm just playing with you," he then straightened up, his smile that had appeared while laughing faded fast. The teen licked his lips, "my mother called me ⌇⏁⏃⍀⌰⟟☌⊑⏁. I- I don't know how to translate it to English," he was focused on his hands again, "I just know that it was an important name amongst my people."
Phil's voice over the phone sounded softer when he spoke, "⌇⏁⏃⍀⌰⟟☌⊑⏁, right?" Tommy was shocked the man pronounced it correctly before giving a small hum. "Alright, I'm going to ask Kristin about this. Don't worry, I'm sure we can figure this out."
The immortal teen shook his head, he could feel something thick in his throat, "I doubt it, I've been trying to figure this out for well over a millennia now."
Another beat of silence, "I can't promise anything, but I will try to get some answers." There was a small huff, "alright, Tech will stay with you for right now." It was as though he knew Tommy opened his mouth to argue, "I'm sorry, but we can't guarantee you won't run and it'll be another fifty or so years before we find you again." Okay… he had him there.
Soon, it was just Techno and Tommy staring at one another. The teen huffed loudly before standing and heading over to his kitchen. He noticed the hulking pink haired man following him. With a sigh, he grabbed the kettle and began filling it with water, "I'm not going to run."
Techno leaned up against the counter as the teen put the kettle on the stove, muttering something before a small flame appeared under it, "yeah, I don't believe that for a second." He looked around and then back at the stove that should've been turned on by turning a dial, "why does your little apartment up here look like a bunch of different rooms all shoved together? How'd you fit everything in here?"
Tommy let out a small snort, glancing at the man before grabbing a small ceramic canister and a spoon, "it's bigger on the inside."
Techno groaned, rolling his eyes, "did you just quote Doctor Who?"
The teen smirked as he turned to the man, "who do you think inspired an immortal man in a small traveling box?"
The man stared at the blond for a good while before the kettle began whistling and Tommy grabbed a tea towel to move it to a cool burner, muttering again before the flame vanished. He opened the top and put in a few scoops of an herb from the canister, "you inspired Doctor Who?"
The teen shrugged as he closed the lid and let the tea sit, turning back to the man, "not entirely, just some of it." He then went to grab a teacup and saucer, pausing, "would you like some tea? It's lavender… it helps with stress."
Techno shrugged, "sure, why not? Phil only has chamomile and I'm getting a bit tired of that."
Tommy chuckled and grabbed a second teacup and saucer, "yeah, I have a wide array of herbs and whatnot that I grow in my greenhouse."
As Techno thought about the fact the teen has a greenhouse in this funhouse of an apartment, Tommy got to pouring the tea. When Techno took his, he stayed leaning against the counter, as did Tommy, "how did you learn how to do all this?"
The teen took a deep breath before taking a sip of his tea, then setting it down on the counter, "lots of practice and I think I spent nearly a century or so just pouring over that book I showed you. My people were powerful, but," he bit his lip, shaking his head, "I- I guess I just had more time to practice and hone it all."
Before Techno could say anything, a loud bark echoed through the kitchen and a dog suddenly appeared out of nowhere, jumping on Techno as if it hadn't just come out of thin air. His cup and saucer shattered on the floor as the man pushed the dog off him gently, looking them over of any signs of distress.
Tommy sighed, "Henry, down!" When the dog did not listen, he huffed and let out loud whistle, causing his dog to sit and look at him, "Henry! What have I told you about jumping on guests?"
Techno looked between the dog and the teen, "that dog literally came out of nowhere."
Tommy shrugged as he knelt down to pet his dog, "yeah, well the spell got fucked up and now she just kinda comes and goes into existence." He smiled at his dog as he stood up, "she's a Bernese mountain dog, I got her in the 1800's I think." He then looked back at the man who had dropped his teacup and sighed as he shooed Henry to go off and play, "look at the mess you've made!"
Techno glanced at the shattered mess at his feet, groaning slightly and looking back at the blond, "where's the-"
The man was cut off when Tommy simply waved his hand and he watched as the pieces floated up to him and he made a few motions in his hand, as though conducting a symphony. Techno watched as the teacup and saucer, which had been beyond repair, were put back together… there weren't even any signs of a crack left. The teen snatched them out of the air and set them down before another wave of his hand had the tea levitating into the sink.
As Tommy leaned back and grabbed his own teacup and took a sip, Techno stared, "how powerful are you?" He couldn't help but ask.
The teen shrugged, "how would I know, I have no frame of reference."
The pink haired man rolled his eyes, "bruh. What about when you had a family or whatever, could they do all this?"
Blue eyes turned icy as he sharply put down his tea, "how would I know, I was a kid. Everything seemed possible back then." He stood up straight, trying to be intimidating to the much taller and bigger man, "it wasn't until people like you came into our lives and destroyed everything!" He couldn't sense the dangerous magic that seemed to swirl around him, "so you don't get to ask about my fucking people and about their abilities!"
Techno could sense the magic, but he had dealt with enough bullshit in his life that he wasn't afraid. He did however, know he couldn't win this fight. He's only been alive since 1921 and he's only had these abilities since 1943, when he was supposed to die in battle during World War Two and was picked up by Phil. If he could only fight this child with his fists, he could win… not with these abilities. So, Techno let out a huff and raised his hands in surrender, forcing a fake smile on his face, "I was just curious, is all."
The magic seemed to die down, but Tommy's eyes remained icy as he picked up his tea again, "well stop being curious, bitch. It's my fucking life, not yours."
The two remained mostly silent for a while, only Henry coming and going into their space. Eventually, they moved back to the living room and Tommy grabbed a book from the side table and opened it up to the spot he had left it off on. Techno tried to get a book from Tommy's private bookshelf, but it literally snapped at him and caused the teen to chuckle at him before returning to his own book. So, Techno messed around on his phone.
It felt like ages before Phil finally called Techno back, the sun was just starting to set. The loud ringing caused the teen to jump slightly as the man answered the phone and put it on speaker, "hey, we can both hear you."
Tommy leaned in as soon as he heard Phil's voice, "I have some answers, but, uh, can I drop by to tell you all this?"
The blond eyed the phone warily, "I mean… sure? Do you need the address or did Techno give it to you earlier?"
He heard a small chuckle from the device, "no need. Techno," the man in question let out a small groan, "get ready." With that, the call ended.
Techno stood up, a very grumpy expression on his face, "I hate this part, it feels awful!"
"Wha-?"
Tommy was cut off as the man clutched his gut, doubling over slightly. Suddenly, another man appeared in the teen's residence. He looked like he could've been an older version of Tommy, except… were those wings?! The teen immediately jumped up and approached the man as he stared at the wings. He didn't notice the way the man was chuckling slightly at his response.
"Are those real?" The teen couldn't help but ask as he reached out, hypnotized slightly by them.
"They are, just- just be careful," the man, Phil, responded as he let one of his wings get closer to the Tommy.
Gently, Tommy touched the wing and was amazed at how to soft the feathers were, "how did you get these? Spell gone wrong or-" he stood up straight and backed up slightly with wide, excited eyes, "or spell gone right?"
Phil let out a chuckle, smiling brightly at the teen, "no, no, they were a wedding gift from Kristin."
The younger blond's eyes widened in shock this time, "the ⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⎅⟒⏃⏁⊑? She- she gave you wings? As a wedding gift?!"
The man nodded with a soft smile, glancing at Techno, who was still on the ground trying to catch his breath, "mate, you should be used to this by now."
Techno huffed out a groan, "I will never get used to you using that spell because it sucks!"
The teen looked back and forth between the men, "what spell was that, anyway?"
Phil smirked, "I just use a little bit-"
"It's more than a little!" Techno cut him off.
Phil just sighed, "I use some of his magic to transport myself to where he is. He should be used to it by now."
Tommy's eyes widened in excitement, "I bet he's just a pussy! Do that with me!"
Another chuckle escaped Phil, "how 'bout later, right now we have things to discuss."
With a whine, Tommy dragged himself back to the couch and falling into it. Then he huffed as he gestured for the men to take a seat, "let me guess, even ⌰⏃⎅⊬ ⎅⟒⏃⏁⊑ couldn't give you answers, right?"
Techno sent a glare to Phil, who stole his seat, as he sat on the ground. It was very clear he didn't want to sit next to the child he pissed off earlier… and Tommy was very happy the man didn't test him.
"Actually," the older blond smiled at the teen, but it was tense and very clearly forced, "Kristin knew a bit about what was going on." He watched as the teen leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, waiting for the man to continue. With a deep breath, "she remembered your name from all those years ago and how it was on the list of souls to be swept up into her arms that night."
"What happened then?" Tommy asked, his knee bouncing up and down, an anxiety he hadn't felt in ages filled his heart.
"While she was collecting the souls after the Romans slaughtered everyone," Phil's voice was even, his eyes soft, "your name vanished from the list. I-" he swallowed thickly, "she's not entirely sure what happened, but she informed me that your people were extremely powerful, more so than anyone who would've gained magic afterwards. She told me that she believes that," he took a deep breath, "she thinks your mother might've done a spell that should've only belonged to the gods and it blended with both of your magics."
The teen glanced between the two men in his home and sighed, his shoulders falling as he fell backwards into the couch, "so, no real information?" He crossed his arms, heart heavy, "I'm still where I've been since the beginning, no solid explanation, no people, no culture to stand with, nothing. I am still fucking alone."
Phil leaned forward, "but you're not alone, not any-"
Tommy cut him off with a glare, sitting back up with a ramrod straight back, "I am alone!" He breathed heavily through his nose, "I have no people, nobody to lean on to help me. I am forever fifteen and I am alone because of your fucking people! Your ancestors slaughtered my friends and family with no remorse!"
"Tommy-"
The teen cut the man off, standing up and walking to the door of his residence, "I think it's time you leave."
He watched as Phil and Techno shared a look before the blond one nodded and gestured for the pink haired one to follow. He led them down back into the shop and to the front door, carefully unlocking it once more.
Phil stopped right before leaving, producing a card out of thin air, "this is my number, call anytime." As he handed the card over, his eyes softened, "you're not alone, not anymore. If it helps, I'm not related to the Romans either."
Tommy's posture shifted just ever so slightly, taking a deep breath, "please leave." His voice cracked with an emotion that he hadn't let out in a long time… one he tried his best to bury.
Right as Phil crossed the threshold, he turned back and smiled, "I hope you call."
With that, Tommy carefully closed the store door and relocked it, not even looking at the men still watching him through the glass. Instead, he turned and slowly made his way back up to his residence and locked himself away in his bedroom. He let Henry lay atop him, providing some much needed comfort.
He kept flipping the card Phil had given him over in his hand, his other gently entangled in fur. He had a lot to think about… a lot to process.