Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ranboo was having a fantastic day. Never mind the old wanted posters or the weird looks the guards in the palace were giving him. He was a guest, after all. It’s not like they could just arrest him while the literal eldest prince of the kingdom was protecting him. But said eldest prince wasn’t around. He had a meeting with the king, and Ranboo was all by his lonesome, in a big castle just filled with treasure. Surely, Techno wouldn’t mind if he had a look around. Just a quick look. A peek, if you will.

Admittedly, he wasn’t the most inconspicuous. He was very tall and visibly not human, but neither was the prince, so, big deal. Not being human had its perks, though. Like limited teleportation. Like how he was able to wander into the treasure display, look curiously around at the busts of previous kings and queens, meander towards the center display, teleport behind the guard, steal the younger prince’s compass, and teleport through the door on the opposite side of the chamber. Ya know, small perks like that.

He’d heard the story. Everyone knew. It had been a legend before it had become reality. Once upon a time, long, long ago, a drop of sunlight fell to the earth and landed in a secluded clearing. From the sundrop grew a flower that was said to grant health and youth to all those who encountered it. Its energy was so strong that it warmed the grove it grew in, the snow never touching the ground. The leaves on the trees stayed full and the grass stayed evergreen. The energy jumbled up all diviners, and all enchantments meant to find hidden objects. One had to know where it was or had to stumble upon it to be able to use its power, and those who knew were often selfish. 

The king and queen were beloved by their people, as were their four sons. When the two youngest princes, twins, were born, the kingdom rejoiced. This joy was cut short, however, when the queen and younger twin fell terribly ill one winter. The physicians tried everything, but nothing worked. In desperation, it was suggested that they find the fabled Sundrop. Search parties went out immediately, countless hours scouring the landscape for this flower. As the days passed, the queen and the youngest prince’s condition worsened. After several weeks, a group of scouts encountered a grove in full bloom, green in the dead of winter. In the center of the clearing sat the Sundrop, glimmering golden-red in the warmed air. They dug it up and brought it back to the kingdom, but by then, it was too late; the queen had already been taken by the sickness, and the youngest prince had merely days to live.

They brewed the flower into a broth and gave it to the prince, and within the week, he was well again. The magic of the flower had worked, and the youngest prince was back to full health, running and shouting through the castle corridors as if he had never been sick. The kingdom mourned for their queen, but the boy would live to see another day. 

The youngest prince proved to be quite the troublemaker, in contrast to his more quiet twin. The magic of the sundrop almost gave him too much life. Visiting nobles often believed the elder twin had been ill, due to his quiet nature. But the wild prince wouldn’t let the confusion last for long. He’d run through the castle, proudly proclaiming for all to hear who he was. He stole from the kitchens and scared the horses, wandered off into the town and got lost often. The eldest prince went to an enchanter, asking to make two compasses, powerful magical artifacts, that always pointed in the direction of the twin princes, so that they could always find one another. 

Three years passed in relative peace. Shortly after the twin princes’ sixth birthday, however, this peace would be broken. Some say it was a group of kidnappers; some say it was a lone actor. Some say they came to steal the prince for ransom money; some say he was taken by wicked sorcerers hoping to use the powers he’d allegedly developed. But regardless of who you’d ask, they’d all say that late one summer night, a cry rang out through the kingdom. The eldest prince had been slain, the second eldest cursed, and the youngest taken. One compass remained on the nightstand, pointing to the prince still sleeping soundly in his bed. The youngest prince was gone, and hadn’t been seen since.

An item that pointed in the direction of the younger prince, the one almost guaranteed to take the throne once he comes of age, would make for one hell of a bargaining chip. Ranboo knew of a couple buyers who would pay a pretty penny for something like this. He’d just managed the biggest steal of his life, and all it took was picking the pocket of the wrong sellsword, earning his trust, and becoming a short-term mercenary. 

That wrong sellsword was busy doing his prince thing and unable to keep an eye on Ranboo. What a shame. 

The guard standing in front of the plinth whipped around just as Ranboo’s hand closed around the compass. He winked, and vanished in a cloud of green sparks. If the guards didn’t want it stolen, they shouldn’t have left it out on a pillow like that. And only one guard? Amateurs. Reappearing in the side hallway, Ranboo glanced around; no guards, though the one in the treasure room had started yelling. That would be his cue. He took off down the hall, running like hell. He needed to get out, and get out fast.

Had he betrayed the trust of his friend and mentor? Yes, but Techno would get over it. He’d understand. Plus, it was always better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission, at least in his book.

Taking a sharp left, Ranboo saw his chance at escape: an open window. Launching himself out of it, he grabbed a hold of the rim and twisted himself up onto the roof. The guards stationed at the parapets stumbled back, startled, even more confused by the shouting coming from the guards still inside. Ranboo pushed past them, not letting them catch up. The cries of “Thief, thief!” would be enough to make them catch on.

The castle was a grand building, so the roof, naturally, had to match. But all the different sections of the castle didn’t have one singular, connected roof. Currently, he was towards the center of the palace. He needed to make his way to the outer edge of the building, all without being captured, as many guards were already aware of his presence, and more would follow. No problem, not for a man of his skill.

At least, it wouldn’t have been. Jumping from building to building? Nothing. Teleporting to evade close calls with guards? Easy, if limited. The problem would come from jumping from the castle back into town. The gap from the castle rooftop to the nearest home was a fairly huge gap. But Ranboo didn’t have any time to judge how steep the potential fall could be. He had to make it. It would just have to be a leap of faith. 

With the edge of the rooftop rapidly approaching, Ranboo let the confidence of his current success carry him to the lip of the castle walls. He had his eyes on the roof he would be landing on, and he was ready to jump to safety. All he had to do was not get distracted or look down.

And, just his luck, he did both.

He heard a kid scream somewhere below him. He looked, and thankfully it was only some children at the edge of the roadside, looking over the body of water that surrounded their island kingdom. But his moment of relief wasn’t long lived, with his eyes unwillingly lingering on the water.

The cold, sharp, unforgiving water. He could feel the phantom pain of its sting along his skin, making it crawl. Suddenly his stomach had a million rocks sewn in, making the sinking feeling grow exponentially more. Each breath grew shallower, as if the water was already filling his lungs. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, it was deafening, beating louder and quicker to his inevitable end oh gods he-

He tripped. 

The ledge of the castle came before he knew it, and suddenly there was no more rooftop beneath his feet. With the ground fast approaching, Ranboo looked at the roof of the home he set his sights on earlier, shut his eyes, and teleported. 

It seemed like luck truly wasn’t on his side today. His limited teleportation really bit him in the ass on this last jump, or rather punched him in the gut, as the edge of the roof collided with his stomach, knocking the air out of him.

That’s gonna leave a mark, Ranboo thought to himself as he slowly slid off the roof and into a wagon currently holding hay. He could keep running in a bit, but for now he just wanted to stop here for a moment. He deserved a little rest. What was he running from again?

“Over there! Quickly, before he runs off!” Oh, that’s what. With a huff, Ranboo forced his sore body to push itself up and out of the cart. He ran past a few homes and hid into an alleyway, watching from the shadows as guards ran past his location. He knew he was too tired to attempt any more teleportation jumps, so he would have to make it out of the kingdom and into the forest the old fashioned way. He’d done it before with less important cargo, he could do it again.

“Looks like you really have them runnin’ in circles,” came a voice from behind him. With a definitely, incredibly dignified yelp, Ranboo jumped, whipping around to face the speaker. The first thing he saw was a familiar shirt far too nice for this part of town, white with a red silk sash.  It was then that he realized that he knew that voice. With a groan, he begrudgingly looked up into the eyes of his mentor and friend. 

His mentor and friend who was undoubtedly fucking pissed. 

“Before you say anything, I promise I had a good reason.” Ranboo held his hands up in defense. Technoblade looked him up and down before slowly crossing his arms, leaning one shoulder against the alley wall as he waited for an explanation. Even with his hood up, Ranboo could tell from the look in his eyes that he was on very thin ice.

“You see, I–” and with that, Ranboo attempted to break away from Technoblade, quickly turning around to run. His second escape attempt of the day quickly failed, with Techno swiftly grabbing the back of his shirt to keep him in place. 

“You really sure you wanna do that?” Just from his tone alone, Ranboo knew that thin ice was starting to crack. Technoblade wouldn’t be patient with him for much longer. Ranboo sighed and let his shoulders slump. He knew when he had been beaten. “I gave you very specific instructions. I’m assumin’ you remember what those were?”

“Keep my hands to myself, don’t touch anything inside, stay in the hall until you’re done,” Ranboo said sullenly.  Techno let go of the back of his shirt, letting Ranboo turn around.

“And what was it you did?” Ranboo scuffed his foot on the ground, crossing his arms. He mumbled something under his breath. “What was that?”

“I wandered off and stole something.”

Techno pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing. When he took Ranboo under his wing, he thought he’d be more of a mentor, not a babysitter.

“Right. You wandered off and stole somethin’.” His voice never wavered, still the same monotone disapproval. “I gave you all those warnin’s as to why tryin’ to steal somethin’ would be a bad idea, and you still went through with it? And it wasn’t just somethin’ in general, nah, you had to steal a family artifact.” Techno pointedly looked at Ranboo, the other shrinking under his words. He knew the kid nearly idolized him, but that wouldn’t save him from being chewed out if he deserved it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t stupid. Like right now. Ranboo shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking everywhere but at the man in front of him. As the silence dragged on, Techno decided to take pity on him. “Look. Just give it back, and we’ll leave this behind us. No treason, no foul. We can be even.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Ranboo knew when he was backed into a corner. He begrudgingly took the compass out of his pocket. Just as he was about to drop it into Techno’s hands, he pulled his hand back.

“What if… what if we weren’t even?” Ranboo’s voice had taken a new kind of confidence, like he had an idea.

“What?”

“Let me make it up to you.” Ranboo finally met his eyes, a determined expression on his face. Techno raised an eyebrow as he tilted his head to the side, silently motioning for him to continue. “If you let me keep it for a couple days, just ‘til the anniversary, you could give me a chance to find the other one.”

Techno’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. Find the other compass? No one had tried in years, and they never hoped to succeed in less than two days. Hope for finding the lost prince had diminished every time another party returned empty-handed. They were never even able to find the compass meant to point towards him. There were no clues. What gave Ranboo the confidence that his attempt would be any different?

“I– I know, it’s a lot to ask, trust to put in me and all, but– no one’s tried in a while?” Gods, he sounded like he was just stalling for time. Ranboo knew that this quest would be a fruitless one. That wasn’t the point. If he could get enough distance between himself and Technoblade he could find a buyer and just... evade Techno for the rest of this life. Or, should he be caught, claim someone had taken it. Foolproof. Definitely. He stuck out his free hand out for a shake. “What do you say?”

Techno looked at Ranboo for a moment before going in for the shake. “Alright, you have a deal, but,” he said, swiftly lifting his hand away before Ranboo could grasp it, “on one condition.” Oh no. “I’m coming with you.” Oh no. 

“Huh?” Ranboo looked at Techno in confusion. That was. Not in the plan. “But I–”

“Either that, or you’re returning it right now under threat of, and I hate to say this, the law. Take it or leave it, kid.” Ranboo has nowhere else to go. If he said yes, he would miss his chance at the biggest score of his life. If he said no, he would basically be admitting that he was lying and would also be missing out on the biggest score of his life. Not to mention the disappointment that would follow from Technoblade. With nowhere else to turn, he shook Techno’s hand.

Truly, no one could be having a worse day than him.

Today was the worst day ever.

True, today was just as boring as any other day, but that didn’t mean that every new day couldn’t be more boring than the last. It almost felt like a competition of sorts. At least that would be more interesting than being stuck in the same routine everyday.

Tommy stared at the spirit across from him. He was taking his time deciding what his next move would be, today’s checkers match particularly intense. They each only had a few pieces left. His next move could really make or break him. Not that it really mattered much if he won or lost, he was still beating Ghostbur by, like, three wins, but winning again wouldn’t hurt. 

The day kept dragging on, the clock seemingly ticking slower today just to spite Tommy’s wishes for it to go faster. He had other powers, why couldn’t time be one of them? Maybe it would manifest one day. He could hope. They had already burned through most of their typical activities and it was barely past midday. He had swept the floors, watered the plants, finished mending one of his shirts, reread his books for the millionth time, attempted to write his own book, everything. Ghostbur suggested games, but they were all so played out. They’d both become too good at darts, Ghostbur never managed to win tic-tac-toe, Tommy never managed to win chess. He even went along with one of Ghostbur’s stupid schemes, no matter how many times Tommy reminded him he wasn’t a child anymore. They had wound up on checkers, one of the few games that they had that they were more or less equally matched in. 

Still, the day seemed to be at even more of a standstill than others. Usually he’d find something that would capture his attention, but today felt different in the worst way possible. Tommy would give just about anything to not be bored right now. 

“Hey! Tommy!”

Tommy felt his heart stop, just for a moment; he looked up sharply, checking the window. Was Dream back? Already? He must have finished his work - whatever it was he did - early. Shit. Tommy finally moved his piece, barely even looking at the board. He stood, chair almost falling in his haste to get up. He had to greet Dream at the window, he always did. 

He didn’t know why Dream’s arrival was making him so anxious. It was just Dream, the guy who raised him, he shouldn’t be so– so panicked over his number one confidant and mentor returning home.

“Oh no.” Tommy heard his anxiety mirrored in Ghostbur’s voice as the other got up from his own chair. Ghostbur’s eyes were wide as he glanced around, backing away from the window, his words rushed and high-pitched. “Let’s just– haha– say you won this round, Tommy! Another win for Big T! I’ll– I’ll get you next time, surely, I’ll–” Ghostbur popped out of visibility, words cut off as he vanished. Tommy silently cheered. A victory was still a victory, no matter how you won it. He was doing his own little celebration dance when he heard a voice behind him.

“What are you doing?” 

Tommy stilled. Shit, he’d forgotten why he stood up in the first place. Right. It’s because. Yeah. He straightened his posture, turning to face his mentor.

“Dream! You’re back early.” He watched as Dream closed the window and hung up his traveling cloak, dusting off his shoulders as he placed his bag down. He always made sure to bring back food and supplies for the day. It really did show how much he cared. “How was your–”

“What are you wearing?” Dream gestured to Tommy’s person. Tommy looked down; he was still wearing the paper chestplate Ghostbur insisted he make. A good soldier always has armor, Ghostbur had said, fussing with the paper arm straps, how else would you defend yourself? This is, really, Tommy, the first thing they teach you in training. Usually he had time to get rid of whatever scheme Ghostbur concocted, but luck was just. Not in his favor today. Dream tutted at him, shaking his head. It made Tommy feel small, the way Dream circled him like a carrion bird. He was, as always, wearing that same green-hooded tunic, same black trousers, same worn brown boots, same gloves. His sandy brown hair was mussed from the wind, and even with his face covered, his disappointment was clear.

“Y’know, Tommy,” he said, stopping in front of him, “I’d treat you more like an adult if you weren’t always doing this sort of thing. You keep insisting you’re not a child, but I come home and you’re in paper armor? C’mon. I thought you were more mature than that.”

“But– but Wil helped me m–”

Dream groaned at the ceiling. “See? This is what I mean. You were supposed to grow out of having an imaginary friend forever ago. And you’re insisting you’re grown up. Come on.”

Tommy felt his face flush in embarrassment. He turned away, tearing off the paper shoulder straps Ghostbur had so meticulously assembled. If Ghostbur would just– would show himself, then maybe Dream wouldn’t be so fucking rude about it. He wasn’t fucking imaginary.  

“It’s cold up here.” It wasn’t. Not in mid-summer it wasn’t. “You should light the fire.” Tommy wouldn’t argue. He knew an order when he heard one. He crumpled up the paper armor and stuffed it between the logs in the hearth, letting his frustration and anger out. Stupid Dream. Stupid Ghostbur. Stupid tower. Dream said he could go out when he could control himself, could prove he was mature, but it was never fucking enough. His hands burst into flame; the paper burned, the edges curling and turning black. The logs didn’t even catch. They just smoldered, faintly. Dream sighed, smug. “There we go. Much better.”

Tommy stared into the fire. His worst day ever just got even more terrible by the minute. He saw the hint of a person out of the corner of his eye - Ghostbur, looking worried. He’d show himself if he were so concerned. Tommy huffed as the tips of his ears started to burn with humiliation, hands curling into fists, small wisps of smoke swirling around them. Stupid ghost. If he’d been such a great knight or whatever in life, why couldn’t he be brave or valiant now? It didn’t make any sense. Tommy stood, rage still boiling in him, and stalked to the checkers set. Fucking stupid. All of this was fucking stupid and Tommy was fucking done with it. He slammed his still smoldering fist onto the table beside the checkerboard, the pieces scattering. He was already here, might as well flip the damn thing, too. Kick a chair, while he’s at it. Vent all this fucking frustration somehow.

Behind him, Dream sighed.

All at once, Tommy remembered where he was. He was home (he was always home), standing in front of a small, overturned table, checkers scattered everywhere. The chairs were askew. Tommy could smell smoke. He didn’t even feel any better (he never felt any better), and now there was a mess. All because– because Dream wanted him to act more mature. And he threw a tantrum. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, shoulders hunched nearly to his ears. He could feel the cold wash of shame race down the back of his neck. He waited for the reprimand to come, but all he got was another disappointed sigh. That just made it all worse. If Dream would just shout at him, it would be easier. Way fucking easier. Any reaction would be better than this. Tommy leaned over, turning the table upright. There was a scorch in the exact shape of his fist burned a few millimeters into the wood. He straightened the chairs. Picked up the checkerboard. Picked up the checkers. Put them back on the table. He turned, hands still balled, shoulders still hunched, not looking at Dream’s face. “I just–” he started, trying to find the right words. “Sorry. Lost– lost control. Need to work on it. I know.”

Dream took a few steps forward, sighing softly. Not disappointed, just… sad. Pitying. “Oh, Tommy.” A hand on his shoulder. Tommy still didn’t relax. “I know, you’re trying.” The hand moved to his upper arm, giving it a soft, comforting squeeze. His eyes stung. “You’ve been working hard. You’ve been doing really well lately.” That’s what broke him. He’d been trying to do it less and less, the whole ‘hugging’ thing. He was grown, he was older now, he didn’t need this sort of emotional shit. And yet. He surged forward, hugging Dream around the middle. His guardian stumbled a half-step back, a surprised “Woa-oh-oh,” escaping him, but he hugged Tommy back. It was a comfort he didn’t want to need, didn’t feel like he needed, but here he was, and… and he felt better. Just a little. 

“It was a slip-up. It happens all the time,” Dream said gently. “It means you’re still young. You’ll learn to control it better, but it’s moments like these that tell us you’re not quite there yet. I promise, when you can handle yourself, you can leave. This is to keep you and anyone you might meet safe. You know that.” Tommy nodded into his shoulder, taking a deep breath. He pulled away, rubbing his eyes furiously. He wasn’t crying. He never was. Dream chuckled, good-natured, and ruffled Tommy’s hair before the boy could pull away. Tommy tried to swat at his hands, but couldn’t help his own small smile. 

“So,” he said, finally, actually looking at Dream, “What’s got you back so soon?”

“Errands were shorter than usual. Picked up food and got final confirmation on everyone attending the Hunt this year. Nothing spectacular.” Gods, the Hunt. Tommy always wanted to go on the Hunt. It sounded like so much fun, the yearly hunt Dream and his friends would go on, every time he talked about it. When you’re older, Dream always said. But he said that about a lot of things.

“The Hunt? What’s this year’s–” Ah, shit, what was that word he’d seen? “–quarry? What’s the quarry you’ll be hunting?”

“This year?” Dream chuckled again, and Tommy could only imagine his grin underneath that mask. Wicked, playful, maybe even a glint in his eye. “Me.” Tommy frowned, unsure how to quite process that statement, but Dream kept talking. “I’m leaving soon. If there’s anything you need, let me know. We’ll be gone for at least three days.” 

Three days. Three days to have the tower all to himself. Tommy tried to keep his surprise off his face, but Dream didn’t notice. He was busy unpacking today’s supplies. Firewood, fresh vegetables, herbs, a new plate to replace the one Tommy broke last week, and a loaf of bread. 

“W–wait, wait, hold on, you’re going to be hunted? By your friends?” Tommy looked at him in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious.

“Oh, yeah.” Dream snorted, placing the food in the icebox. “I’ve managed to outrun ‘em a few times. They’re out of practice.”

Tommy could feel his head spiral with questions. What the fuck actually went down on these hunts? He always envisioned wild boars or crazy monsters but… Sure. Fuck it. 

“What happens if they win? What do they get out of it?” 

“Boasting rights, I’d assume. Some kind of prize.” The plate clinked against the ones already in the cupboard. “Not that they’ve ever won,” Dream chuckled. He seemed confident in his abilities. Knowing Dream, it wasn’t false confidence, either. He had the skills to back up his claims. Tommy could hear the mocking eye roll in Dream’s words.

Just then, an idea came to him. “What do you get if you win?” Tommy looked down before looking back at Dream with pleading eyes. If he was going to get what he wanted, he would have to play into Dream’s ego. “Or should I say when you win?”

“When I win,” Dream agreed, glancing at Tommy over his shoulder, “I can ask for anything. Granted, it can’t be anything crazy. But I do get a prize.” Putting the last of the supplies away, Dream fully turned towards Tommy, leaning against the cupboards. Tommy didn’t need to see his face to know he was raising an eyebrow at him as he crossed his arms. “Why? Got any ideas? Something you’d ask for if you won?”

“Well…” There was something Tommy would ask for, but starting small would work better. “I have been wanting a new music box.” Ever since he could remember, Dream would sometimes bring him back little music boxes from his travels. He didn’t bring trinkets back very often, but when he did, it was the best thing in the world. It showed that Dream was thinking of him. 

“Another one?” Dream sounded skeptical, shaking his head. “You just got a new one. For your birthday, remember?”

“It’s a hypothetical!” Tommy protested, “If I were to win the Hunt! Not like I’m really asking or anything.” He crossed his arms, rolling his eyes and looking away. “Hell, getting to step outside this tower would be enough of a prize for me.”

Shit. Tommy realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. He felt the room turn cold, Dream’s posture changing. He hunched his shoulders again. “Sorry,” he muttered. The change in mood felt suffocating, his eyes desperately scanning the room for something interesting on the floor to avoid eye contact. 

“Tommy.” Dream stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and his protege. “We’ve had this conversation before. You are not leaving. Now now, not anytime soon.” Dream took a single step forward, looming over the teen all but physically. “It’s for your own good. You know that.”

“I know! I know!” Tommy turned his head to the side. Why did he even say that? “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, I didn’t mean to!” He felt out of control, desperately scrambling for an excuse and coming up empty. “It was– it was all part of the hypothetical! Hypothetically, me winning would just– haha– have to– to involve me leaving in the first place! So, really, as a prize it wouldn’t make much sense!”

Dream looked at Tommy for a long moment before sighing, relaxing his posture. “Tommy, I don’t want to be the bad guy here. I’m your friend, remember?” He put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the boy flinching at the contact. “I’m not your enemy. I’m just doing what needs to be done. You can either make it harder and fight against me, or you can make this easier for both of us and cooperate. I promise, you’ll understand once you’re mature.”

“...Okay.” Tommy let himself give up, forcing his shoulders to go slack. “You’re– you’re right. I trust you.” 

“Good. Now, before I go…” Dream held out a hand, palm up, offering it to Tommy. “I’ll be gone for a little while. I won’t be here to bail you out if you lose control. Your energy might overwhelm you again.” Tommy had to suppress a shiver. Last time hadn’t been pretty. He nodded, taking Dream’s hand. Deep breath. In, then out. He closed his eyes, centering himself, focusing on his own energy. Deep breath. In, then out.

Slowly, his hair started to glow, his energy manifesting physically. It started at his roots, spreading to the tips. It was a soft golden color, radiant enough to rival the sun. His freckles started to glow as well, resembling the multitude of constellations in the night sky. He almost felt weightless, like he could play among the clouds. The golden shimmer of magic dancing across his skin tickled, but he stayed focused. He used to want to scratch at the feeling when he was younger, but Dream’s reprimands made him build up a tolerance, resisting the urge to let go of his mentor’s hands. Deep breath. In, and let the energy transfer on the exhale. Out. 

The golden magic crept across his arms and flowed toward his mentor. He remembers it resisting at first when he was younger, but now after many years of practice, it felt almost as normal as any other magic use. As his magic seeped out of him, he could feel his energy leaving him as well. He suddenly felt the weight of gravity again, and then some. His hands started to go slack, but Dream kept his grip on him tight. His legs felt weak. He wanted to collapse, the need to pass out growing with each passing second. Did the ritual usually take this long? 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Dream let go. Tommy fell to his knees, feeling weaker than ever. He tried to regain his breath, small beads of sweat dripping down his face. Opposite of him, Dream stood tall, looking, if it were possible, more real. He looked down at his hands, watching as green sparks of energy easily came to him. The ritual was complete.

After a moment, he glanced down. “Are you alright?” he asked, crouching beside Tommy, “It’s been a while, I know. It takes a lot out of you to transfer that much power.” 

“Fine,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, starting to shakily rise to his feet. Dream helped him up, steady in comparison. “I’m fine. I feel fantastic,” he muttered, “Definitely don’t feel like shit at all.”

Dream huffed in annoyance. “I know it takes a lot out of you, but you don’t have to give me attitude about it.” He turned away from Tommy to go back to collecting the necessary supplies for his trip. “If you are going to talk back, the least you could do is speak up. You know how I feel about muttering.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tommy waved him off, rolling his eyes. 

“Maybe that’s why you were handed over to me. So you’d stop muttering all the time.” Dream’s voice never changed tone, still light and jovial, though his words had an edge to them. “Not because you were a brat with dangerous magical powers, but because you were annoying.” He laughed to himself, closing up his satchel and turning to Tommy. “I’m going to go confirm the campsite, check on you one last time, then leave. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.” 

Before Tommy could process everything he had said, Dream had put on his traveling cloak and hopped once again out the window, disappearing on the breeze. His words still rang through Tommy’s ears, echoing off the walls of the tower. Annoying. Given away. Dangerous. Brat. 

Not that he remembered his family very well, if at all. He tried. He tried to remember. But he had been so young, he couldn’t– well, no matter. Ghostbur and Dream were his family. Dream was his mentor, his protector, his best friend. He always had Tommy’s best interests in mind. And Ghostbur! He couldn’t forget Ghostbur. He was like the older brother he’d presumably never had. His constant companion, always there for him. Mostly, when Dream wasn’t around. Regardless, he didn’t need anyone else, not with these two around.

His hand still drifted to the compass he had hanging around his neck. It was the only thing he had of his past life, of his family. He’d had it since before he could remember, since before living with Dream, the pewter compass that always seemed to shine a purple-ish blue. No matter where he put it, the needle always pointed to him. He had no idea as to why, and he only had one clue, however unhelpful. Two words were engraved on the back: Your Tommy. His family had given him away, but once… he had been someone’s, once. That was the thing he’d do, if he could ever get out. Find whoever this originally belonged to (who he belonged to, his brain unhelpfully supplied) and give them a piece of his mind. He had a right few things he’d like to say, thank you very much. Find who it was who didn’t think he was worth keeping around. Give ‘em what for.

“Oh, good, he’s gone.” Tommy blinked, remembering where he was. How long had he been standing there? He let go of the compass and spun around, met immediately by Ghostbur’s translucent face. He was beaming, but paused as he met Tommy’s eye. “What’s– what’s wrong, Tommy?” he said, smile melting into a concerned frown, his head cocked to the side. “You’re upset. And very tired. That’s not good for you. Here, sit down, c’mon.” 

Ghostbur herded Tommy over to the couch, barely any force, but Tommy wasn’t resisting. He flopped down onto the well-worn cushions, Ghostbur hovering on the arm. 

“Are you sad that he’s gone?”

Tommy took a moment to respond. “What?”

“You only got all sad and distant after Dream left. You’re sad because he left.” Ghostbur’s frown rapidly turned worried; he rubbed the hem of his sweater, looking down at Tommy. “And I made you more upset by celebrating him leaving.”

“No, no, Wil, that’s not–” Tommy sat up, shaking his head. “That’s not it, I’m not sad or anything. At least, I don’t think I’m sad, but, really. I’m not all too sure what I’m feeling right now, actually. It’s all very complicated and I’m kind of confused but–” He had to pause to take a breath, losing his train of thought. “But I’m not upset with you. And I’m happy to have some time without Dream.” 

Ghostbur beamed once again, clasping his hands together. “Brilliant!” If only Tommy could be so unburdened by emotions like Ghostbur was. “Anyway, I remembered something! Tomorrow! Tommy, do you know what tomorrow is?” Did he? Tomorrow was going to be like any other day, as far as he was concerned. Just another boring day in his boring, boring life.

“Is it the–"

“It’s the lantern day.” Oh, right. The lantern day. Tommy presumed there was some kind of festival that went along with it, not that he’d ever seen it in person, or been to any festival for that matter. Every year, hundreds of lanterns would float up into the sky, and every year Ghostbur would make Tommy watch them with him. The ghost’s eyes always lit up when they came into view. “You know, Tommy, I may not remember much, but! But, but, but, I remember those lanterns, Tommy. Those were always my favorite during the summer festivals, you know that, right?” He sighed dreamily, leaning against Tommy. There was a slight pressure there, a hint of corporeality, feather-light against Tommy’s shoulder. “Y’know, me and my dad, we used to make those lanterns when I was a kid. He taught me how, I still–” Ghostbur stopped and gasped, turning to Tommy, eyes full of excitement and delight. “Tommy! I know what we can do while Dream is gone!” He leapt up and began to search the drawers, leaving Tommy on the couch. “We’d need paper – not like construction paper, something much lighter – and– and some wire, do we have that? Lightweight wire? The jewelry kind? And something to act as the heat source, and then–”

Tommy started to doze on the cushions. Dream would be back later. And then he’d be gone for a little while. And Ghostbur’s new scheme seemed kind of fun. 

Maybe today wasn’t so bad, after all.

“So, remind me again,” Techno said, stepping over a particularly gnarled root. They’d been walking for a few hours, long enough for word to spread about the missing compass, but not long enough for Techno’s cover story to gain as much ground. “Why, exactly, we’re headin’ this way?”

“Right,” Ranboo said, a glance thrown over one shoulder, “So, uh...” The kid still had the second compass, the one he had stolen hours before, in one hand. Techno wasn’t letting it out of his sight. “They found the Sundrop a few miles out of the city limits. If we start there, it’s possible the kidnapper came back to this general location. Probably not within the Summergrove itself, but…” He shrugged. “Y’know. Around.”

Huh. The kid had done his homework. Put some actual thought into it. Techno wasn’t about to let himself seem impressed, but his expectations were being exceeded. He had been almost certain Ranboo was intent on running the second he could, but it looked like the kid actually wanted to find the missing prince. 

“And since the flower couldn’t be divined,” the thief continued, “neither could the prince. Doesn’t completely explain the compasses, though.”

“Tied to souls,” Techno grunted, “Instead of his power. Can’t divine a soul, but you can anchor somethin’ to it.” He played it off as though it was something he’d heard a million times, but he’d been there when the compasses were created. He remembered the way his older brother had explained the magic. He remembered the way his younger brothers laughed in delight as they ran around their palace, the needles always pointing to the other no matter where they went. He remembered every detail. He always remembered every detail. 

“Huh.”

“Yeah.” 

They continued walking in silence. The sun was high in the sky, dappled through the trees. It must’ve been going on mid-afternoon. At the base of a cliff covered in ivy, Ranboo stopped, cursing under his breath in a language Techno couldn’t understand.

“How’s your side feelin’?”

“What?” The kid looked up sharply, the movement making him wince.

Techno scoffed. “You’ve been avoidin’ turning your torso too much. Means you’re probably injured.” The and I saw you crash into that roof during your escape went unsaid, though he was sure the sentiment was understood.

“It’s fine,” Ranboo said, waving a hand, “Just a bruise.” He prodded his stomach once, wincing again. “Okay. A big bruise. But I’m fine.” The kid rolled his eyes at Techno’s skeptical expression. “I’ll just, y’know? I’ll rest. That is what I’ll do, I’ll lean against this cliff and I will rest. Watch. Here I go.”

Ranboo leaned against the ivy-covered cliff. 

Ranboo promptly vanished into the ivy-covered cliff.

Techno watched as his apprentice fell backwards through the wall, the kid yelping in surprise as he went. He drew his sword, approaching the side of the cliff, and pulled the ivy back. It was a naturally-formed tunnel by the looks, not very long, with a grass floor and another curtain of ivy covering the other side. He looked down at Ranboo, offering him a hand. The kid took it and stood, dusting himself off.

“I meant to do that,” Ranboo said, jutting his chin out and trying to look dignified. The image he was trying to project was slightly ruined by his arm clutching his sore side. Techno just snorted to himself as they walked through to the other side of the tunnel. He parted the ivy.

On the other side, there was a tower. A single, tall tower, in the middle of a clearing. It was surrounded on all sides by cliffs, the walls sheer and barren. A waterfall flowed out of one side. It was beautiful, but Techno was more interested in that tower. Beside him, Techno heard Ranboo follow him out, a soft “Holy…” said under the kid’s breath. The top of the tower was tiled a light blue, tinged green by the moss, a red brick chimney poking out of the right side. The sides were made of stone, the same color as the cliffs. Had this been a quarry? Techno would have to do some research. The ivy covering the tunnel was all over the valley, creeping up the sides of the cliffs and tower, threatening to choke out the rest of the plant life. The tower thinned towards the middle before widening into a larger space, a set of bay windows covering the left side of the structure. 

It didn’t have a door.

The tower didn’t have a visible door. That would be an issue. From this angle, the only entrance Technoblade could see was the center window at the top, which appeared to be open. No visible shutters. Maybe it was abandoned? There was no smoke rising from the chimney, but… no. No, those were definitely potted plants sitting on the window sill. That hanging basket at the top of the frame was definitely in full bloom. There was someone living here.

...There was definitely someone living here.

Techno felt his guard raise, even more than before. Were they home? Were they waiting up above, ready to drop down on the intruders? Were they watching him? There was something off about this, but he couldn’t tell what. It was starting to freak him out. Beside him, Ranboo was frantically scrawling down everything he could see in a small notebook, along with a quick sketch of the tower. Good. At least one of them could document it. 

“Draw later,” Techno muttered, glancing around. No one above. No one behind them. The only sounds were the waterfall and whatever little animals lived out here. “Help me scout.”

Sticking to the shadows, the two approached the base of the tower. Nothing. No one. They checked the perimeter, unable to find a door. If they moved the ivy, the tower owner might see, and Techno knew better than to leave an actual trace. Around the back of the tower, Techno sat his pack down, digging through for anything that might help them climb up. Some rope, but that would only help in the event that one of them got up there in the first place. Up close, it appeared that the tower was made of cobblestones. Perfect for getting a handhold with the right tools. Hm. 

He drew two crossbow bolts from his quiver, tossing both them and the rope at Ranboo’s feet. The kid was back in his notebook, adding more details to the notes. He jumped, looking from his mentor to the items presented.

“Uh.”

“Go up. You’re lighter, you’ll go quicker, and I’ve seen you climb. Go up, throw the rope down. I’ll keep watch.” The kid’s two-toned eyes were wide, like he didn’t understand what Techno was saying. Techno rolled his eyes, gesturing to the items. “C’mon. As if you’ve never scaled a wall.” Reluctantly, away went the notebook and pencil. 

With the rope coiled around one shoulder and a bolt in each hand, Ranboo started to climb. From the base of the tower, Techno turned away, loading his crossbow and surveying the valley. Nothing so far. Just the muttered curses and complaints from his apprentice growing fainter the higher he climbed. 

Today was going to be one hell of a day.

Chapter Text

“Go up the tower, Ranboo, you’re so good at climbing, Ranboo,” muttered Ranboo, sticking a crossbow bolt between two stones. He was halfway up the tower, and could still hear Techno snickering down below. He was good at climbing, yeah, but usually he wasn’t injured, Technoblade, while doing it.

It didn’t take him long to get to the top. He hauled himself onto the oddly wide window ledge, taking the moment to catch his breath. From here, he could see some of the tower room, though no one seemed to be home. The blooming hanging basket Techno had pointed out was on a large metal hook; Ranboo took the plant down, carefully setting it aside. He dropped the rope just under the window, noting the metal hook at the base of the frame. So it wasn’t the first time someone had done this.

Ranboo drew his notebook from his pocket, jostling the compass he had slipped there before his climb. He wrote down what he could see, hopping down from the ledge and stepping into the room.

The space was lived in. It was airy, open, the center of the room taken up only by a small table. There were only two chairs, one pushed in, one askew, and a set checkerboard sitting atop the table. The right wall was dominated by a staircase that curved with it, leading up to a small balcony with a door. A second door sat below the balcony, half-covered by forest green curtains. The kitchen sat below the staircase, shelves of books and dry ingredients beside an oven and what appeared to be an icebox. On the left side of the room, Ranboo saw that the bay window had a sun-faded, cobalt blue couch nestled into it with a coffee table in front, and a large wardrobe beside it. The hearth rested right in the center. Notebook in hand, he carefully crossed the room.

No dust. Bread was baked. Hand-shaped scorch on table.

He approached the coffee table. Jewelry wire, tissue paper, and an open bottle of glue were scattered around. An open bottle, the glue inside still wet. Huh. Ranboo felt like someone was watching him. He noticed burnt paper in the hearth. 

Wet glue. Recent fire.

From his left, the wardrobe creaked. To his right, a flash of movement and color. He shook his head, shutting his eyes tight for a moment, before carefully looking back. He could have sworn there was a person there. A young man in a yellow sweater. But– no, no, no one was there. He was alone. It was empty. He was alone.

Which made it all the more surprising when a blunt object hit the side of his head, and he blacked out.

There was a person in Tommy’s tower. 

There was– a person. In Tommy’s tower.

There was a person in Tommy’s tower. 

And this person wasn’t Dream or any of Dream’s friends, the ones he’d sometimes see when the Hunt ran through the valley. This was a person. A real, actual person, who Tommy just knocked him out with a frying pan. Definitely knocked him out, because he didn’t move when Tommy dropped the pan in surprise a second later, it clanging loudly to the floor.

He had heard a shout of surprise some fifteen minutes ago, and had watched as two – two! – figures walked through what Tommy was certain was a wall of solid stone. He had grabbed one of the cast iron pans from the kitchen as one of them started to climb, hiding in the wardrobe a moment after. He didn’t have to wait in anxiety for long as he soon heard one of them making their way up the wall of his tower. He had kept an eye on the one who climbed up through the crack in the door, and struck when his back was turned. And now the guy was unconscious on the floor.

He was unlike any person Tommy had seen, though his experience was pretty limited. The guy’s face and hair were almost evenly split down the middle, one half a deep black, the other paper white, with some opposite-color spots on either side. He was in a set of worn traveling clothes, by the looks, but wasn’t overtly armed. The guy had to be pretty young, by Tommy’s estimate, but he didn’t have the widest frame of reference. Young, no weapons, currently knocked out, not human. Okay. Okay. Tommy was the more dangerous of the two, then. Easy. Easy, he had this down. 

The notebook the guy had been writing in was beside him on the floor. Tommy leaned over to pick it up, but something else caught his eye: an object had seemingly rolled out of the guy’s pocket, now lying on the floor. It was shiny, the slightest shimmer to its glass face. A pocket watch? 

“Tommy, look!” Ghostbur had gone back to the window, looking out at the second figure at the base of the tower. Tommy shoved the notebook and shiny thing into his pocket, going to the window. From up here, he could see two things about this guy: he had pink hair in a long braid, and was very armed. There was a nasty-looking sword at his hip made of gleaming black metal, and the crossbow in his hand had an unnatural shine to the wood. Everything about him put Tommy on edge. Ghostbur, however, was ecstatic. “It’s Techno!”

“Wh- you know him?” Tommy asked, bewildered, “Like, you know who that is?”

“Of course! It’s Techno!” That told Tommy absolutely nothing. Ghostbur leaned out the window, waving and calling down to the figure outside. “Hey! Technoblade! It’s m–”

“Shh!” Tommy grabbed the back of Ghostbur’s sweater, pulling him away from the window. The figure, Techno, whoever he was, whipped around, looking for the source of the voice, but shook his head after a moment, and kept walking. “Are you kidding me?” Tommy hissed, the smile slowly dropping from the ghost’s face, “Wil, we don’t know anything about him! He’s got a giant bloody crossbow that could probably shoot us from here! We don’t know why these guys are here and you’re just– just calling out to them? What if they wanted to kidnap me?” He was starting to get frantic, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. He was alone, his guardian had just left, and two people had not only found his tower but one had gotten in and the other looked incredibly dangerous. He didn’t even notice his breathing getting shallow. “Dream– Dream always said people tried to– to kidnap me when I was a kid, that’s why we live here, what if that’s why they’re here now? What if–” The guy on the floor groaned, and Tommy froze. The guy started to move, slumping back to the floor a second later. Still out. Good. Tommy allowed himself the smallest sigh of relief.

“But…” Ghostbur looked confused, glancing back towards the window. “I trust Techno.” 

“Why?” Tommy walked back towards the guy on the floor. Dream would– Dream would be back soon and– and Tommy could use this to prove to him that he was capable! Yeah! That he could take care of himself and all that other shit Dream said he couldn’t! He took down this guy all by himself and didn’t burn him or anything! It would be a surprise, yes, definitely, this would be such a great surprise! The wardrobe was still open. Perfect. Tommy hauled the guy up, pulling the stranger’s arms over his own shoulders, dragging him towards the wardrobe. He was much taller than expected, Tommy was now discovering. Not perfect.

Ghostbur continued to stare out the window, quiet, like he didn’t even hear the question. It took Tommy what felt like an eternity to get the guy into the wardrobe, finally shutting it and shoving a chair under the handles. He looked to his companion; he wasn’t annoyed, he could never be annoyed at Ghostbur, but there was something off with how he was acting. 

“Why is he…” The ghost leaned forward, a furrow in his brow. “He’s all… grown up.”

Tommy frowned. How old had Ghostbur been when he died, if he was this confused about this ‘Techno’ being an adult now? How long had he been dead in the first place? Tommy had always assumed he’d been in the tower the entire time, that Ghostbur had always haunted the place, but… apparently not. He studied the spirit in front of him, barely able to read his body language. Yellow sweater, black leggings, a red knit hat. The rest of him seemed devoid of color, complexion a light, faded grey, hair a soft black. It hadn’t always been that color, according to Ghostbur, but it was all Tommy knew. Everything about him was the same as it had always been. Nothing about Ghostbur had outwardly changed. But looking at him now, he was somehow different.

Tommy slowly took out the shiny thing he had just placed in his pocket, examining it. It was, upon closer inspection, a compass. The body was pewter, by the looks, the metal almost glimmering a soft purple-ish blue. The needle pointed out the window, unwavering. He ran his thumb over the glass face. Something about this was familiar. On the back, he could feel something. Words. He flipped it over. There were only two words on the back: Your Tubbo. Something tugged at Tommy’s mind. A memory. An idea of brown hair and a bright smile. Tommy pulled his own compass out from under his shirt, the metal making a satisfying sound against the chain he kept it on. They were identical. Same metal, same glass, same unique color, same engraved letters.

The one he had puzzled at all his life pointed to him; this new one pointed out, out of the tower, towards… Tubbo. Whatever a 'Tubbo' was, he was someone’s. And that meant Tommy was, too.

“You trust him, Wil?”

Ghostbur started, like he’d forgotten where he was.

“What?”

“Do you trust him? This– this ‘Technoblade’ fella.”

“Yes.” A short nod. There was no doubt to his answer, no hesitation. “I don’t– I don’t remember who he is. To me. But I know he’s good. I trust him.” Tommy sighed, nodding.

“I’m going to trust you on this. Call him up.”

Ghostbur’s face lit up, a bright grin overtaking his confused frown. He looked out the window again, glancing around for his supposed friend. Nothing on the right, nothing on the left. Then, his face fell. 

“Dream,” he said, turning to Tommy. Every time Dream returned, Ghostbur’s reaction was the same: panic. Tommy felt his own heartbeat pick up. Ghostbur vanished, leaving Tommy, once again, alone. His guardian arrived on the breeze, exactly as he’d left.

“Hello,” Dream said, ever-pleasant.

“Oh, hey, Dream.” Tommy swallowed hard, trying to keep his nerves down.

“I’ve got a big surprise for you.” Dream stepped down from the window, patting his satchel. His mentor sounded self-satisfied. What could he have brought? He sauntered to the table, placing the bag down.

“R-really?” Not what Tommy had been expecting. He blinked, but there were more important things to take care of. Like proving that he could take care of himself in a fight. He cleared his throat, puffing out his chest. “I mean– I– I also have a surprise. A big one.”

“Can’t be bigger than the one I have for you,” Dream chuckled, opening the bag up.

“It… probably is.” Tommy laughed along, nervous.

“Alright. Close your eyes. Hands out.” Dream turned around, hiding something behind his back. Tommy did as he was told, holding out his hands. Something square was placed into them. He opened his eyes, looking at… “Surpri-ise,” Dream sing-songed; Tommy could only imagine his smile. “A music box. New one, too, I’ve never heard the song before.”

The box was small, like most of the ones Dream brought back were, the top painted with maroon and red stripes. The metal crank glinted slightly in the sunlight. For a moment, he was speechless. 

“I felt bad when I left, I thought I’d make it up to you.” Dream’s voice was warm, but Tommy’s unease didn’t lift. “So, I got you this! You know how I hate leaving after an argument.”

“Oh– wow, uh. Thank you!”

“No need to thank me. Just looking out for you, like I always do.” Dream brushed the back of his fingernails against his chest, looking at his gloved hand when he pulled it away. Smug bastard. He looked back up at Tommy as he went over to an open chair. “Now what was it you wanted to show me? Your ‘big surprise?’”

“Oh! Um– right!” Tommy quickly ran over to his collection of music boxes, placing his newest addition next to the others with care. He’d have time to listen to it later, surely. At the moment, he had bigger fish to fry. “So, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about-”

“You? Thinking? That can’t be good.” His mentor laughed, putting his legs up on the table as he leaned back in his chair. Dream wiped an imaginary tear away from his mask as his chuckles died. 

Tommy smiled as he rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t let his friend’s jab distract him from his goal. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier.”

Even with his mask on, Tommy knew Dream was raising his eyebrow at him. “I hope you’re not still talking about going out. We’ve been over this.” His tone grew less jovial as he brought his feet back to the floor.

“I know! I know, but just listen!” Tommy couldn’t fight the smile growing on his face. He couldn’t wait to see his mentor’s reaction. “You’ve always said you thought I couldn’t take care of myself, but–”

“Tommy, I know you can’t take care of yourself,” Dream interrupted.

“But that’s just it! You think I don’t know how to take care of myself, but if you’d just–” Tommy turned around, excitedly inching his way back to the wardrobe. He didn’t notice Dream getting up.

“Tommy…” 

“If you’d just let me–” Tommy’s hand was reaching for the wardrobe door.

“Tommy.”

“Just listen–”

“Tommy! Enough!” Dream slammed his fist down onto the table. ”I’m sick of having this conversation over and over again. You are never leaving this tower! Not now, not ever!” 

Tommy whipped his head back to face Dream, his eyes wide in shock. His mentor was nearly blocking all the light coming in from outside, shadow swallowing up the room. He’d never felt smaller. He slowly took his hand away from the wardrobe, looking down at his feet, crossing his arms in front of his chest defensively.

“I was just– I was just going to say how I was really gonna train up. Get better at doing this shit on my own, while you’re gone.” He scuffed his foot against the floor. He didn’t even want to look up at Dream. He pushed his luck too much, and for what? All he did was make his closest friend upset. The notebook and compass felt like lead weights in his pocket. “Y’know, make you proud…”

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension in the air thick before Dream finally let out a sigh. “I get it. But you’re not going to get better so quickly. Not overnight.” His mentor walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder. He tried not to shrink too much at the touch. “Just… try to have some patience.”

“I… I know.” Tommy finally looked up at Dream. The same mask he had known his whole life brought him a small amount of comfort. Dream hummed contentedly, tilting his head to the side to suggest a smile.

“I am proud of you for taking charge in your training. It shows drive.” He took his other hand, dropping it on Tommy's head to ruffle his hair. “Hold on to that. But for now, you know the rules. You’ll be alright while I’m gone?”

“Yeah. I will.” Tommy felt his anxiety slowly leave him. He took a deep breath, finally leaning into Dream’s touch. His mentor paused for a moment before finally taking his hands away, making his way over to his things. It would be time for him to go soon. Tommy took a moment to fix his hair, messy now that Dream ruffled it. “You know that I hate when you do that.”

“I know, I know. That’s why I do it.” Dream chuckled, pulling his satchel over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a couple days.”

Tommy watched as his friend made his way back to the window. “See you then.” Dream gave a small wave before pushing himself off the ledge, disappearing as easily as he had come.

Tommy watched the window for a moment, feeling unsure if this was real. Like Dream would pop back in at any moment. He stared, yet nothing happened. Slowly, he let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He could do this. It would only be a few days.

“That didn’t go so well, did it?” Tommy jumped as Ghostbur suddenly appeared to his right. Gods, the guy could sneak up on you without even realizing. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get out. One day.”

“Yeah, I guess. But one day and not yet are starting to feel like never.” Tommy groaned in frustration, claiming the seat Dream had left vacant. He tilted his head back as he looked up at the ceiling. “Just once I’d like to see the world, even if it was only for a day. Just once.”

“I know you will, Big T. Don’t lose hope. It’ll happen before you know it.” Ghostbur grinned, moving to hover over Tommy. “By the way, what were you going to show him again?”

Just then, a groan came from behind the wardrobe doors. Tommy’s eyes widened. Shit, he’d nearly forgotten. 

Tommy crept his way over to the wardrobe, Ghostbur following close behind. He put his hand on the handle, pausing for a moment to steady himself, before quickly opening the door and moving out of view behind it. The stranger’s body tipped out slowly before quickly falling face first onto the floor.

“Holy shit, is he dead?” Tommy whispered to Ghostbur in a panic. Before he could answer, another groan made its way out of the body hanging out of his wardrobe, answering that question for him. The stranger’s eyes opened for a moment; one eye was red, the other lime green. Finally, Tommy moved to grab the frying pan again, poking the stranger’s side with it. When he didn’t move, Tommy let out a small sigh of relief.

Ghostbur floated over to get a better look at this new person’s face. “So… what are you gonna do with him?”

Ranboo’s head felt like it was made of a ton of iron, and hurt like he’d been hit with one. His neck hurt – strained. Head tilting toward. Sitting up? He must have been sitting up. He kept his eyes closed, trying to gather his thoughts. What the hell happened? What did he last remember?

Climbing in, walking around. There was… a recent fire? An open bottle? He was alone, he had been alone but – but how did he end up here? Here? Where was here?

Letting out a groan, he slowly opened his eyes. Ranboo blinked a few times, getting used to the sudden rush of light. It was bright, too bright, a beam of sunlight shining right onto him. He took a moment to take in his surroundings. Bookshelf, wardrobe, stairs, kitchen, window, tower, yes, he was in a tower.  

Ranboo looked down, noticing ropes. Wrapped around his body. Keeping him tied to a chair. He had been tied to a chair. Okay. Not good. How. Did he get here? Maybe he wrote it down in his–

His book.

Ranboo looked around the room frantically, trying to tug away from the bindings on his wrists. He strained away from the chair, only finding his legs to be tied, too. He couldn’t lose that book. It had all the important details of his life in it. It was the only thing making sure he wouldn’t forget! It had to be around close. It had to be, it had to–

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you!”

Ranboo froze. Okay, new voice. He could play along for now. He looked around the room, trying to spot a figure in the shadows. They’re probably the reason behind this new predicament. Since he couldn’t gauge how much danger he was in, he did his best to play along. At least until he saw an opening to escape. Still, that didn’t ease his nerves.

“Struggling’s– struggling’s pointless!” The voice came again, sounding less confident than before. Ranboo’s eyes searched until finally, he spotted something. A person, standing somewhat behind a bookcase, in the corner of the room. “I know why you’re here and– and you won’t be getting away with shit!”

The person stepped out from hiding, slowly coming into the light. There, standing in a room previously thought to be unoccupied, was a boy. He looked to be around Ranboo’s age, and looked to be on the taller side as well. His hair was the brightest golden blond he has ever seen before. His eyes, though Ranboo could see the hesitance in them, were determined. He looked like he was ready to face an entire army, wielding… a frying pan?

Before Ranboo could voice his confusion, the boy stepped forward, pointing the pan at him. “Who are you, and how the fuck did you find me?”

Ranboo, ever the smooth talker, let out the most eloquent of answers. “Uh.”

It didn’t seem like the boy appreciated his way with words. He took another step closer, pulling his frying pan back as if preparing to strike. “I asked you a question, big man. Who the fuck are you? How did you find this place?”

“W– woah, woah, hey, take it easy! Let’s– let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.” Ranboo’s eyes widened in panic; he tried to lift his arms, finding once again that they were tied down. He was trying not to get his head bashed in, thank you very much. “I– I uh. I don’t know who you are, and I honestly don’t really know exactly where I am. I was just passing through, I swear.”

The boy raised his eyebrow at him, seeming unconvinced. “Does anyone else know I’m here? Are you with someone?”

Ranboo’s eyes unconsciously drifted to the open window, though he quickly forced himself to look back at the person in front of him. “Uh– nope! Just me! I came here alone. Absolutely no one else.” He attempted to put forth a compelling smile, but he could feel the sweat dripping down his back. He had never been the best liar.

The boy in front of him looked skeptical, glancing at the window, before looking at a point above Ranboo’s head and rolling his eyes. Regardless, he didn’t call him out on his bullshit. Ranboo didn’t know if he should be thankful. 

“Right, then,” the boy said, back to pointing the pan at him like a sword, “So– uh.”

“Oh! Uh, Ranboo.” 

“So, Ranboo…” The boy started to circle him, looking over his person. “What do you want with me? Want to kidnap me? Sell me?”

“Huh? Wh– Look, I don’t even know who you are.”

“Do you want to– wh.” The boy paused, surprised. “You don’t want to kidnap me?”

“Yes! I didn’t even know you were here, kidnapping you was, like, the– the last thing on the list of things I thought I’d do today.”

The boy frowned, holding up a finger in the universal one moment gesture. He turned his back to Ranboo, muttering to himself. No, no, it– it sounded like he was having a conversation.

“I mean, we could keep him here?” No audible response. “I know, I know, it’ll be three days, but–” He paused again, nodding. “Yeah, I guess…” The boy faced Ranboo again, arms crossed. “What about ‘im?” He nodded toward the window. Oh. Okay.

“About who?” Ranboo tried, but the boy wasn’t buying it.

“About the pink guy outside! About–” The boy looked over his shoulder. “Wil, what was his name?” Oh. Okay. The guy had an imaginary friend. Perfect. “Right, yeah. What about that Technoblade guy outside?” An. Imaginary friend who knew Techno’s name. That’s. Uh.

“Uh,” Ranboo said. The boy pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows. Wrong thing to say. “He’s– we’re friends. He’s my friend.” Well. Mostly. The boy exchanged a look with someone Ranboo could not see. “And– and, we were just exploring! Looking around! Got lost! I could–” Think, think. “–could tell you more if you gave me my things back?”

Everything about this place set Techno on edge. 

There was nothing wrong with the valley-quarry-clearing, really. It was quiet, it was pretty, the birds were singing and the waterfall had quite the calming effect. But the fact that the tower was here, that it was hidden like this, something about that put Techno off. It felt like he was being watched, like there was someone looking at him. 

Ranboo climbed through the window. No sounds of screaming immediately from the tower. Owner must not have been home. Good. This feeling wasn’t necessary. Hopefully. 

Techno continued to scout around the perimeter, crossbow loaded and ready. Wildlife. Grass. Water. Nothing. There was nothing else here. He was freaking out for no reason. He shook his head. Paranoid. As always.

“Hey! Technoblade! It’s m–”

Techno turned on his heel, looking around wildly for the source. He hadn’t heard that voice in– a long time. Too long. He looked up the top of the tower, but no one was leaning out the window. It– it was Ranboo. Ranboo called to him. Definitely. Definitely was Ranboo, nobody else, never mind the fact that the voice was higher than Ranboo’s was and that the kid never called him by his full nickname, especially not for greeting. Only one person ever did that, and he– Techno shook his head, readjusting the bolt in his crossbow and checking the other side of the tower again. It was just the long day getting to him. The kid’s crazy plan. The way the anniversary was on his mind. Nothing else. Nothing else.

Still nothing. Still nothing here, just Techno and his thoughts, just the quiet. He decided to head back to the front of the tower. Ranboo had been taking a while. Might as well check to see if everything was okay. 

A shadow passed overhead, much too big to be a bird.

Techno dove for the ivy, acting on instinct. Someone was– flying. Someone was flying. And was landing – gods, no – on the window ledge. The figure was wearing a forest green cloak, hood pulled over their head. They disappeared into the room.

If Techno and Ranboo had been alone before, they weren’t any longer. Of course the tower had to belong to someone who could fly. Why not.

No sounds of surprise or cries of fear. No gangly half-endermen being thrown from forty feet. The kid must have found a good hiding spot. All he had to do now was wait and hope they wouldn’t be caught. Magic users were much harder to take down. He did not want to deal with one today.

The minutes ticked by, agonizing. From his hiding spot, Techno could still see the window. No one looking out, no one else coming in. Then, a noise. From the base of the tower, Techno couldn’t quite hear what the voice was saying, but he could feel the intent. Frustration. Anger. Loss of control. 

Whatever was causing this person to blow up, he was just glad he wasn’t the cause. Only thing worse than a magic user was an unstable magic user. Techno groaned, leaning his back against the cobblestone behind him. Hopefully the owner would leave, so he and Ranboo would be free to continue their search.

After another few minutes of quiet, the green-cloaked figure was at the window once more. Techno watched as they kicked off the ledge, flying back the way they came. They were gone. He still didn’t move from his spot.

Another ten, fifteen minutes later, another voice.

“I’m throwing the rope down! Come up!”

This time, it was definitely Ranboo. 

The rope came down quickly, the end dangling a foot off the ground. Looking up, he couldn’t see the kid in the window. He raised an eyebrow. Usually Ranboo would at least peek out to see him start climbing. Hesitantly, Techno started to climb. There were too many possibilities for what lay at the top. Was it a trap? Was the owner still there? Would the rope snap? Would anyone ever find him if he were to go missing here? 

Techno hefted himself over the ledge, the floor solid under him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. The space wasn’t too bad, homey. The thing that caught Techno off guard, however, was the fact that his apprentice was sitting in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, and there was a teenage boy standing over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Techno,” his apprentice said weakly.

“...Hey,” Techno replied, “Who’s… who’s your friend?”

“My name’s Tommy,” the teenage boy interjected, none too polite.

“...His name’s Tommy.”

Tommy, as it turned out, had been in the tower for quite some time. The entire time that they’d been there, in fact. And was currently holding Ranboo hostage. 

Yeah.

Alright.

This might as well be the case.

Techno pointedly ignored how familiar Tommy looked. He ignored the look Tommy was giving him even more. Everyone stared at him upon first meeting him, of course they would. Everybody had heard of the cursed prince. At least, this would put any rumors Tommy had heard to rest. His hair was pink, yes, and yes, he had tusks. And yes, his ears and teeth were pointed. But he didn’t have the head of a pig, he didn’t have hooves, he didn’t have glowing red eyes. And, no, he wasn’t cursed to be this tall, either. Maybe his nose was a little more upturned than anyone else in his family, but he didn’t have a snout. He didn’t have a tail.

He knew he was scary. The glasses sometimes helped to offset it, but he wasn’t stupid. He noticed. He always noticed.

Tommy cleared his throat.

“Anyway.” He stalked around to the front of the chair, gesturing with a cast iron pan. “As you can see, Mr. Technoblade, if that even is your real name–”

“It’s not,” Techno deadpanned. Tommy glared at him.

“As I was saying. I’ve got your friend here captured. And I do not plan on letting him go until–” He pointed the pan at Techno. “–we make some arrangements.”

Techno raised an eyebrow, expression otherwise blank. Should he even humor this kid? Just looking him over, he had him outclassed in weaponry and muscle mass. The only thing really holding back from flipping the tables on him was curiosity, honestly. A scrawny kid, living in a sorcerer’s tower? There’s no way he didn’t have magic of his own. Yet he wasn’t using any of it to strong arm him? A part of him kinda wanted to see where this was going to lead.

The other part of him had something he didn’t want to admit to himself. This kid, Tommy... his face pulled at memories Techno didn’t like to recall. It couldn’t be him; never mind that he looked to be the right age, had Phil’s eyes, had W– no. Not thinking about that. Coincidence. It had to be coincidence. The only thing that would make it real would be–

“And if you’re having second thoughts, I have something that’s valuable to the two of you,” Tommy said, bringing Techno out of his thoughts. He pulled – as if the coincidences couldn’t get harder to ignore – the compass Ranboo stole out of his pocket. “This,” Tommy said, affecting an air of control and superiority, “is a very valuable item, if your friend’s reactions are anything to go off of.” He shook it back and forth in his hand, the needle not moving. “I will release him and give this back to you under one condition.” The kid had clearly never done a hostage situation before. “There is an event happening soon. Perhaps you are familiar with it.” He’d better not. “Tomorrow night, there will be many floating lights in the sky. Do you know what they are for?” 

“You mean the lanterns for the lost princes?” Techno said flatly, not letting any emotion in his voice betray him. Tommy looked over his shoulder, momentarily dropping his serious manner.

“Lost princes?” he asked the open air behind him. Techno and Ranboo shared a quick glance. Techno raised both his eyebrows. Ranboo shrugged, grimacing. “Yeah, yeah, well. You were right about the lantern part,” Tommy said. He turned back to Techno. “We wish to see those lanterns. Our request is simple. Bring us to the–”

“Us?” Techno looked from Tommy to the space behind him. The boy blushed, stammering out a reply.

“Us? No, what, what are you– I want to see the lanterns, me, I, just me and no one else here.” Okay. Imaginary friend. “Bring me to them and get me back safe, and you can have this compass back.”

“What about the person in the cloak?” Techno pointed back to the window. “Aren’t they gonna, y’know. Come back and see that you’re gone?”

“Dream?” Tommy made a face. Noted. “Pft. Nah.” There was a tension to the boy’s shoulders, despite his casual look. “He’s not gonna be back for a few days. That’s why you have to get me there and back. Then you can have the compass back and this guy’s little book thing and we’ll act like it never happened.”

“Uh, one small problem,” Ranboo piped up, raising a finger as best he could. “Techno and I aren’t exactly looking to be spotted in the kingdom, at the moment. ” 

“I don’t know about you, man, but I am welcome in that kingdom anytime,” Techno said. Ranboo’s murderous look couldn’t wipe the smug grin from Techno’s face. “But, he does have a point. We’re lying low.”

“Do you want the stupid compass back or not?” Tommy huffed, crossing his arms. He was still holding the object in his hand, nearly pouting. 

Techno sighed, shaking his head ever so slightly. Was he really about to sign up to babysit not one, but two kids? “Look, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it by my rules. You follow me, you don’t stray, and you listen if I give an order. What I say, goes.”

Tommy looked as if he was about to argue, before stopping and looking to his side for a moment. A thoughtful look clouded his face; careful deliberation. Ranboo looked up at his mentor in disbelief, baffled that he was even entertaining the whims of a random kid. But Techno needed to know. It was a long shot, but there were too many coincidences to ignore at this point.

“...Fine,” Tommy said, “What’s one more set of stupid rules. Let me get some things together.” He turned around, collecting things as he made his way around the room. “I’ll take anything if it means getting out of this place.” In the meantime, Techno untied Ranboo from the chair. By the looks, the rope would not have been long enough to descend the tower. Maybe Tommy hadn’t thought about that. Maybe he hadn’t tried. Tommy himself was stuffing the collected things into a rucksack, muttering a conversation Techno could barely hear. “I know, I know you trust him, but–” A pause, like he’s been interrupted. “Yes, you’re right, I don’t.” Another pause. “I am not being a bitch! Did he have those teeth things when you knew him?” Techno froze. The boy had his arms crossed, weight shifted to one hip, half-glaring at the space in front of him. “Then things have changed, Wil!” Techno’s blood ran cold. “You don’t know if he’s still the same!” Pause. He sighed, expression softening a little. “I know. We’re still going. Just…” He glanced at Ranboo rubbing his wrists, at Techno staring at him. “Just keep on your guard.”

Coincidences, Techno told himself. Scolded himself.

Ranboo gave Techno one last skeptical look, before using the rope to rappel down the tower. Techno waited at the windowsill, watching Tommy carefully. 

The boy was stalling and they both knew it. He was checking his bag again, again, checking back and forth with a person Techno couldn’t see. Even once he made his way to the window, he relentlessly checked for anything to slip on, checking the plants, checking the sky. There was nothing to check. Nothing to see. He could see the hesitation in Tommy’s posture, in the way he touched the window frame, not yet stepping up.

“Do you…” Techno started awkwardly, “...wanna go first? So we can make sure you don’t fall?”

“Y-yeah,” Tommy said, finally stepping up, “I’ll– I’ll go first. Make sure I won’t chicken out.”

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Tommy said, eyes almost panicked, “No, I– I want to.” He stepped onto the ledge, hand still on the frame. He took one last look around the tower, grabbed the rope, and started to rappel down. Techno gave a quick visual scan of the room as well. Nothing, but– but he had to do a double take as he turned back to the window. He could have sworn he saw the outline of a familiar young man in a yellow sweater, a look of doubt and concern on his face; he blinked, and the outline vanished. 

It was the valley. And the tower. And that ‘Dream’ guy doing that magic. It was doing weird things to him. Messing with him.

Techno shook his head, and rappelled down the tower.

Chapter Text

Tommy knew, in theory, what the valley would be like. He understood the principles of dirt, of the stream at the bottom, of being outside. In practice, it was very, very different. For example: when grass gets wet, it is slippery. Tommy found this out by promptly falling face first to the ground not twenty feet from the tower. He heard his new guide, Technoblade, what a fake fucking name, Tommy was going to find out what his real name was as soon as he could, snort under his breath; the other one, Ranboo, helped him up. Tommy brushed himself off like it was nothing. Like people had helped him up in the past and he’d gotten over it.

He stood at the edge of the valley, the ivy curtain at his back, and looked up at the tower. He left the new music box. They left the rope. They’d be back before Dream returned, anyway. It would just make it easier to climb back up, he told himself.

Beside him, Ghostbur was also looking at the tower. It was weird seeing it from the outside, the stones, the structure, the roof. Tommy never knew that it looked like this. That it was so tall. That beside it, he was miniscule. Not that he’d admit it, but it was… almost frightening.

“You comin’?” Techno called, halfway down the tunnel. 

“Just a moment.” Tommy waved him off, not taking his eyes from the tower. He should go back.

“We’ll be right by the tunnel,” Ranboo said, and it almost made Tommy feel better. 

The tower… 

It’s home, Tommy supposed. It had always been home, but there was more out there that he needed to see. The compass was proof of that. He took it out of his pocket, the one Ranboo had dropped. The needle pointed away from the tower and towards… Tubbo. Whatever that was. Ghostbur hovered by his shoulder, tapping the surface of the compass.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” he said, eyes earnest. “I’ve seen this before. And heard that name. Tubbo.”

“What kind of fucking name is Tubbo?” Tommy asked.

“Same kind of name Technoblade is,” Ghostbur said, and Tommy rolled his eyes. Vague. Typical.

“Let’s go.” Tommy stuffed the compass back into his pocket, turning away from the tower. Never mind the sense of dread building in him. Never mind the trepidation he had for crossing that second curtain of ivy. Techno had already exited the tunnel, the plants swinging behind him. Ranboo waited, though. Tommy appreciated it. A lot.

He pushed through the ivy. On the other side was… more forest. Just more forest. Tommy had never seen the forest, though. He had never seen the way the light filtered through the trees, or how the cliffs rose up until you couldn’t see any higher. Techno was weaving his way through the trees like he’d taken the path a million times, despite there being no signs of tracks, no well-worn path. 

“This way,” he said curtly, cutting down a vine in his way, “There’s a place we can stop an hour from here.”

They walked in semi-silence, Tommy often getting distracted by cool plants and rocks he found. He couldn’t pick them all up, to his disappointment, though he knew all of their names from his books. Ghostbur kept commentary; Ranboo and Techno gave him weird looks, though, every time he’d respond.

“I don’t think they can see you,” he whispered, after nearly half an hour, “Keep looking at me all weird.”

“Oh, they can’t,” Ghostbur says, like it’s the simplest thing ever, “I don’t want them to. And I don’t…” He frowned, absently touching a spot just under his ribs. “I don’t think Techno wants to see me.” 

“I’m sure he’d…” Techno turned as Tommy started whispering, fixing him with a hard glare. Tommy trailed off, sharing a look with Ghostbur. Never mind. 

Tommy’s nerves started getting the better of him. The further they got from the tower, the further Tommy was from everything he knew. He pulled Ghostbur aside after another few minutes, starting to fidget.

“...We should go back.”

“What?” Ghostbur cocked his head, curious. “Why?”

“Well, y’know…” Tommy tugged on his bandana, not meeting his eyes. “We haven’t– We’ve gone far enough, right? This is pretty far?”

“But… what about the lanterns?”

“We can– we can always just.” Tommy waved his hands vaguely, hunching his shoulders. Up ahead, Ranboo and Techno had stopped. And were staring. “Watch them from the tower.” He didn’t want to look up. Ghostbur was disappointed, he could already tell. “And Dream would be mad if he found out.”

Ghostbur drifted closer. “Do you want to go back?” Tommy shrugged vaguely, crossing his arms.

“N… no, but–”

“We can go back if you’re having second thoughts,” Ranboo called, “We can head back now, it’s not too far!” Tommy heard a huff from Technoblade, and the sound of Ranboo getting elbowed in the side. “Just– as a suggestion.”

“No!” Tommy said, looking up quickly. He couldn’t turn back now. He was so close to being out of there. “B-Besides!” he sputtered, puffing out his chest, “I’ve still got something you want! So! You’d never get it back if I turn around.” Ranboo nodded in agreement. Tommy didn’t miss how hard Techno rolled his eyes.

“Then keep walkin’,” he huffed, cloak swishing as he turned around. 

They kept walking.

Dream fucking loved the Hunt. Every year, his friends tried so hard to capture or kill him and every year they failed. Every year, he got to laugh and tease as their strategies got better, but never good enough. Gods, he felt alive.

Ant had been working on his potion making in the last year. Sapnap’s aim had gotten even sharper. George was, as always, being used as bait, and was complaining about it more than ever. And Bad – Bad was always sweet, he’d even brought cupcakes to their initial picnic, but once the Hunt was on, he was a beast. Dream was surprised there weren’t more armies under his command, his ability to lead was unmatched. 

Out of the corner of his vision, a blur of movement in black and red. The smell of tree bark starting to smoke to his left. The telltale sound of potions clinking together to his right, and of a too-heavy, too-obvious tread over leaves behind him. He was surrounded.

“Oh, Dre-eam,” Bad sang, voice echoing off the trees like he was on all sides, “We’ve got you tra-apped. Might as well give uh-up.”

“You say that every time,” Dream scoffed, glancing around. To his left, as predicted, was Sapnap, the tree trunk he was hiding behind starting to blacken under his grip. To his right, Ant had a hand in his bag, something clearly at the ready. George was most definitely behind him, though Dream didn’t dare look. They’d catch him off guard that way. Bad strolled out from the shadow of another tree at full height, twirling his axe like it was nothing. It was new, Dream noticed, the blade was the size of his head. There was a red sheen to the black metal. He had to commend Bad’s dedication to the aesthetic.

The rules were different this year - no flying, no teleporting, no sleeping draughts, no forest fires. Made it more fair for everyone involved.

The rules didn’t say anything about giving oneself a little boost, though.

As his friends started to advance, Dream weighed his options. Let them attack, fight them, dispatch George and make him reform at base camp, and run away, or run away now and figure out a way to trap them all later. 

Hm. Easy. 

He feinted left, Sapnap raising his sword to attack, but turned on a heel and dead sprinted towards Ant. The cat fumbled with his bag, not having expected this and unable to grab the potion he wanted in time. Dream jumped up, kicking off the tree behind Ant and letting the momentum carry him into the branches. He lept from branch to branch, the canopy making for excellent cover. Behind him, his friends were shouting in protest, but hot in pursuit.

They decided to camp in the Summergrove this year. It was a peaceful spot. Decades of good memories had been made there. They were here for a good time, after all. Dream paused for a moment in a high tree, looking out over the forest. There was the grove, there was the castle in the distance, and – there. The top of the tower. He would run by there, wave to Tommy, let his friends say hi as well. That would be fun.

“There he is!”

Dream laughed, full-on laughed, as an arrow whizzed by his head.

“Missed me!” he called. He dug through his bag, grabbing a fire charge and throwing it down below. The cloud of smoke erupted immediately, giving him some cover. Up the mountain, over the treetops, and gods, Dream could not stop laughing. He hadn’t had this much fun, hadn’t felt this real, for far, far too long.

He kicked off a tree, the top of the tower coming into view. It wasn’t flying if he wasn’t going up; Dream allowed himself to float to the bottom of the valley, laughing and barely throwing a glance back to the window.

“Hey, Tommy!” 

No response. Dream touched down on the grass, finally turning around. His laughter died in his throat, exhilaration replaced by cold dread. There was a rope. Hanging from the hook. And touching the bottom of the valley.

His friends caught up, coming to a stop at the top of the cliffs. He heard George gasp. Heard Sapnap swear under his breath, and Bad scold him for it. Ant landed beside him, gazing up at the tower.

“Do you think...?”

“Let’s hope he didn’t.” If it came out as a snarl, that wasn’t Dream’s problem. 

The main room was bright, as it always was at this time, sunlight streaming in from the windows. There was tissue paper, wire, and a closed bottle of paste on the table. The checkerboard was perfectly set. The wardrobe was wide open. 

“Tommy?” Nothing. “You’ve left a mess down here.” He hung up his cloak and went up the stairs. Knocked on the door, even. To be polite. He would be polite. “Are you asleep?” Tommy was not asleep. He wasn’t in his room, or the kitchen, or the living room, or hiding, or training. Crackles of green electricity flashed around Dream’s balled fists.

“Nothing?” George said, as he came back down the stairs. 

“What do you think, George? Answer me that.” He stalked to the chair, noticing ropes piled loosely around the legs. The rope hanging outside was a different sort. He cut off a small piece, handing it to Sapnap. “Track this.”

On the table sat the music box Dream had gotten Tommy earlier that day. He picked it up, the green electricity cracking the wood. He heard the telltale whoosh of flames, and a hum from Sapnap.

“He’s with two people.” Kidnappers or accomplices, Dream didn’t know. And none of them would know, not until they found him. 

“Which way.” The music box was starting to mold to his grip. Sapnap grimaced and pointed silently out the window. In the direction of the castle. 

Accomplices. 

“The Hunt is still on,” Dream announced, tossing the music box over his shoulder and grabbing his cloak, “We have a new target.” He took off, not waiting for the others. “And no rules.”

On the floor, the mangled music box faintly smoked, metal twisted beyond repair.

Tommy was lucky that Techno was so interested in why he was up in that tower and what his deal was. He’d have left the kid back at that tower if he’d known the trouble he was proving to be.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“A tavern. I told you this fifteen minutes ago. We’ve been walkin’ all day, I’m gettin’ hungry.”

“Ughhhhhh.”

A lot of their conversation had been going like that. Ranboo was staying relatively quiet, to his credit. Techno didn’t think he’d be able to handle two chatty teenagers. One was trouble enough. Especially when he kept hanging back and chatting with someone neither Techno nor Ranboo could see or hear. Who was allegedly named Wil, out of all names, and apparently knew Techno. Techno did not like that. Not one bit. 

“Ugh, another one,” Ranboo said, walking over to a tree with a piece of paper on it. He brought it back to Techno, showing him the paper. It was a wanted poster, Ranboo’s face printed in ink. An impressive woodcut. Techno would have to speak to the artist. “Look at this.”

“It looks fine. Good likeness.”

“No, no, the name.” Ranboo gestured at the bottom of the poster.

“Wanted, dead or alive,” Techno read aloud, “On accounts of treason, theft, and breakin’ and enterin’–” He stopped, snorting. “Rambo?”

“May the gods forbid I have a name that isn’t in Common,” his apprentice said sarcastically, crumpling up the wanted poster and shoving it into his bag. He glanced from Tommy to Techno, frowning. “Actually, where are we going?”

“Niki’s.” 

“Oh! Oh.” Ranboo hummed to himself, sparing another glance at Tommy. “You could have just said so. That’ll be fun.” Techno rolled his eyes. They were nearly there. 

Niki’s tavern had always been one of Techno’s preferred haunts. He had met her right when he started doing mercenary work, and she never treated him any different than any other customer. He became a regular. Niki was good company, Techno had found. He wasn’t great with people, but talking to Niki was fun. She also kept a very sharp sabre under the bar. He respected that.

From the outside, the tavern was as innocent as it got. White outside walls, dark crossbeams, wooden doors and a shingled roof. A cobblestone chimney that was always pleasantly smoking. The smell of baked goods. As they approached, Tommy perked up, the sweet exterior of the tavern likely an enticing sight. Techno started down the path without any hesitation, Ranboo at his side. He stopped, turning to see Tommy lingering at the gateway, hand on the fencepost.

“You comin’?” The boy startled, glancing side to side as if Techno could be talking to literally anyone else. “Yes, you.” 

“Oh– uh. Yeah.” Tommy took a half-step forward, hesitating. He glanced to his right, as if looking for – permission? confirmation? – before nodding and crossing the fence line. “There’s not, like, wronguns in there, right?” Techno must have made a face. Tommy looked affronted. “You know! Thieves and murderers and scoundrels! I have always been told to stay away from those types.” Techno snorted, hiding it as a cough. He shared a glance with Ranboo, who shook his head.

“Uh, yeah. Of course not. We wouldn’t be takin’ you somewhere super dangerous on your first day out or anythin’. That’d be reckless, and we are anythin’ but reckless.” A total, complete, and boldfaced lie.

“Good. Right.” Tommy nodded decisively, back to his usual bravado. Techno and Ranboo walked into the tavern like normal people; Tommy strode. 

Niki’s tavern was home to the rowdiest group of bastards Techno ever had the pleasure (or displeasure) of meeting. Mercs, drunks, thieves, and general partiers came here, and so long as they left Techno alone, he didn’t really care who was there. It’s the kind of place one could get their pocket picked and make friends with the thief after the fact.

Someone threw a bottle as they entered; it smashed against the wall inches from Tommy’s head, making the boy jump. The person who threw it bleated out a sharp laugh, before descending into coughs – Schlatt, then. Techno rolled his eyes, heading straight to the bar. The other two would figure it out. Techno took his preferred seat at the bar, allowing himself a moment to relax.

“The usual?” Niki slid into his view, resting against the counter. Her hair was in two buns today. It suited her. “You’re in here early.”

“Got company this time,” he said, shrugging, “and things to prepare for. You know.”

“Oh, I know,” she laughed, reaching under the bar for the icebox. Techno looked over his shoulder, to where Schlatt was telling a story to his gathered group of associates. He recognized a couple of them, maybe. One of them, a guy in a blue knit hat, was staring at him apprehensively. It took Techno a moment to place him; he was the one Techno had knocked out the last time he had gone to the prizefighting pit. He huffed out a small laugh, turning back to Niki just as she slid his drink to him. “That’ll be a silver and five copper, milord.” Techno rolled his eyes, passing her two silver.

“Come on, not that again,” he said, grinning and taking his drink. Chilled water with pomegranate syrup and honey. Perfect for a day like today. “Schlatt giving you trouble still?”

“Nah.” Niki made a face, putting the money away. “He’s got that bunch keeping him in check.” Techno sipped his drink, watching Schlatt’s group carefully. Nothing too rowdy, not yet. Niki leaned across the bar, pointing to something on Techno’s other side. “What about them?” He looked to where she was pointing, seeing Tommy sitting with Ranboo at a table.

“Officially, it’s because I’m arresting him,” Techno said, and Niki snorted. He lowered his voice. “Unofficially, it’s because I’m curious. I’ll tell you more after tomorrow. Depends how things go.” She nodded, before moving down to another patron. 

A lot of things were depending on how things went. Techno just hoped it wouldn’t end poorly.

Ranboo could tell how out of his element Tommy was, and it was hilarious. The kid was trying so hard. It was almost embarrassing. He was clearly anxious, looking around over his shoulder at every other second, and that definitely wasn’t Ranboo projecting. It was Tommy, with his obviously false bravado and swagger, who was nervous. Definitely.

They were sitting at a table, both at a loss for what to do next. Techno had gone straight to the bar and was gossipping with Niki. Maybe he’d come back? And help them out? Maybe? Ranboo fidgeted, glancing towards his mentor. People in the tavern were giving them weird looks. Were giving him weird looks. Stop looking at him. Stop. Stop looking at him. He tried to project this at everyone in the tavern as hard as possible. They were not hearing it. They should.

“You good?” 

Ranboo sat up a little straighter, looking to Tommy. The boy was leaning in closer, looking… concerned? For Ranboo? And not for himself? No, no, definitely not. Definitely because of the people staring at them.

“Y-yeah, of course,” he said, glancing around the tavern room again. Two people were one hundred percent looking at him and whispering to one another. There was a – oh, fuck, shit, fuck – a piece of paper between them, and it definitely was a wanted poster. Oh, fuck. He chirped quietly, unable to stop the warbling sound of distress, and Tommy was giving him that look again. He was looking at him. People needed to stop looking at him.

“Alright…” Tommy said, skeptical. He stood up and walked to the bar, patting Ranboo’s shoulder as he passed. He went over to Techno, taking a seat at the bar and chatting with him. Like it was easy. Gods, if only Ranboo could do that.

But he was fine! He was doing great, actually, his friend and companion was there, and so was the kid they were bringing along. And that kid would surely give up and get scared and just give them the compass back and then they could all go home! No big deal. He’d be free in just a few hours, depending on how quickly Tommy chickened out. Ranboo drummed his fingers on the table, barely noticing as two people approached his table.

He jumped as they slammed the wanted poster down, leaning in to get a good look at him. Ranboo recognized the two – the one in with the red and blue goggles was Jack, and the one with the blue pelt around his shoulders was Connor. Neither of them looked all too friendly.

“Gentlemen,” Ranboo said stiffly, not meeting their eyes, “How can I help you?”

“We heard some rumors about a thief who sometimes comes here,” Jack said, “Half-enderman type. Heard of ‘im?”

“What’s– uh. What’s his name?” Jack turned the wanted poster around, Ranboo’s own face staring back at him in detailed woodcut. On the bottom, a name. Wanted: Ranbob. Ranboo laughed awkwardly, scooting away an inch. “Nope! Sorry, never heard of him.” Techno and Tommy weren’t paying attention. Tommy was still talking at Niki. Oh, gods, this was bad. Ohhhhh this was bad.

“I’m getting a guard,” Connor said, leaving quickly. Jack leaned in more, chuckling. 

“I heard you committed some pretty serious crimes,” he said casually, gaze keeping Ranboo pinned in his seat, “Treason, theft, some people have even been saying you killed a guard. Probably a pretty penny in it for us to turn you in. Oi!” He called towards the rest of the tavern, straightening up. All eyes on Jack. “Any of you in need of some money? Got a wanted criminal right in front of us.” All eyes on Ranboo. Oh, gods.

The clamor was instantaneous, the amount of people rushing him as he tried to get away. Someone grabbed his arms, keeping him in place as he struggled. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t teleport to an open spot, it was too loud and too crowded and very few things in Ranboo’s life had been worse than this moment. Towards the back, Tommy joined the fray. He still had that frying pan, and was ineffectively using it as a weapon. If he weren’t stressed to hell and back, Ranboo might have almost found it funny.

“Hey, hand him over, I need more drink money!”

“I’m broke, I need it more than you do!”

“Let ‘im go, that’s my friend!”

“No way, I want it!”

“Enough!”

The room went silent. Everyone turned towards Techno, who was standing on top of the bar with his sword drawn. He glanced around, almost nervous. Ranboo knew he’d led troops before, but this was a different situation. Techno cleared his throat, continuing. “Let him go. He is under my watch, and is currently my charge.” A murmur passed through the bar, a few scoffs mixed in. “Put him down. I am going to escort him from here. And you will not call the guards.” Too late for that. Connor was long gone.

“And what’ll you do if we don’t?” Jack sneered, “Wouldn’t want it getting back to up top that the already disgraced Prince Theseus was abusing his power and arresting innocents.” Another murmur through the bar – Prince Theseus, Prince Theseus, cursed, of the Blade, Prince, disgraced. Techno tensed, gripping his sword tighter.

“I’m not–” He was losing his edge. Ranboo could see it. “That’s not–” The crowd was starting to turn on Ranboo again. Someone started manhandling him towards the door. Then, a voice.

“Wait!” It was Tommy. “Hold on a moment.” The tavern held its breath. “I– you can’t take him. He’s my guide! For– for my quest! Have you ever–” He swallowed hard, glancing around briefly. “Have you ever had a dream so important to you that you had to see it through?” A few scattered hums of agreement. “You!” He pointed his frying pan at the person holding Ranboo. “You ever had a dream like that?”

“I mean, uh.” The person’s grip loosened in surprise, but Ranboo knew better than to try to get away just yet. He looked to the side, not recognizing the person holding him. He was part crystal golem by the looks, the tavern firelight refracting off his skin. Huh. Definitely someone new. “I’ve– always wanted to learn to bake? If that counts?”

“What would you bake?” Tommy was stalling. He looked nervous, but his voice was steady.

“Muffins?” Murmurs of agreement as well. Techno stepped down from the bar, still watching the crowd.

“Yeah! That sounds great!” Tommy pointed to another person, a young man in a purple jacket. “What about you?”

“I’ve always… wanted to be an inventor,” he said. More agreement. Encouragement, even. 

“You’d be great at that!”

“Karl, didn’t you fix Ponk’s wagon last month?” More and more voices joining in, commending Karl’s achievements. 

The group started chiming in without prompting. Quackity wanted to run for mayor. Purpled wanted to open a business. Punz wanted to get out of mercenary work. Hannah wanted to start a rose garden. Eventually the diamond guy, Ranboo heard someone call him Skeppy, let him go, the atmosphere in the tavern relaxing. 

Tommy was in his element. He was a natural. The tavern was enraptured as he spoke, gesturing with his hands as he explained how he’d always wanted to see the lanterns up close. He didn’t explain that he had been trapped in a tower or anything, but that visiting the capital city was always a dream of his. He made a weird face the first time he said the word dream. Ranboo wrote that one down. He would have to ask later. Out of the corner of his eye, a flash. White? White and green? Looked like a cloak and mask. Ranboo wrote that one down, too.

Making his way to the bar, Ranboo saw Techno, Prince Technoblade, wiping down the bar, looking apologetically at Niki. Her expression softened as she saw Ranboo, a small smile on her face.

“Putting him to task, I see.”

“Got his boots on my counter. I’ve got to keep this place clean.” She snickered, and Ranboo couldn’t help but crack a grin. Techno scowled at them, rolling his eyes. The mood in the tavern had gone back to standard. Jovial, casual, Schlatt telling stories and Quackity shooting down the parts of it that were definitely bullshit. Tommy looked right at home. If the situation were any different, they might have met here. Ranboo made sure to write that observation in his journal. And that Tommy called him his friend. He felt weirdly bad about that. Was he still scamming this kid? He’d have to think about that later as well.

Tommy came over to the bar, humming the refrain of the drinking song the tavern goers had been teaching him moments ago. He was still smiling, eyes bright. 

“How’d my distraction work?” he said, “Got them all worked up and everything.” Techno hummed, and Ranboo nodded. Approval enough, apparently, because he then turned to Niki. “Do you have…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “...alcohol? In this establishment?” Niki could only laugh; Tommy blinked, almost offended. “What?”

“I have alcohol,” she said, managing words between giggles, “but I’m not going to just give it to you.”

“What?! Why?” 

The door to the tavern burst open. Guards. Shit. Connor was right behind them, a smug look on his face. The guards looked around the tavern slowly, searching. One looked up, directly meeting Ranboo’s gaze. 

“There he is!”

Ranboo barely had time to react. The guards started towards him, but before he could move, someone was yanking him over the bar and onto the floor. Niki flipped a switch and the floor opened up; a secret passage. What the hell. Before Ranboo could think about this, however, he was being dragged into the tunnel. Oh. It’s Techno. And by the sounds of protest, he was dragging Tommy, too. 

“Get up,” Techno snarled, looking over his shoulder, “Get up, get up, we need to run.” That was indication enough. It sounded like the tavern crowd had the guards covered.

They ran.

The castle was bustling, and for good reason. There had been a robbery that morning. The elder prince had stormed out with little more than a word of goodbye. There was a festival to prepare for. The younger prince’s life could be in danger. The king had a kingdom to run. There were searches for the thief and extra security around the younger prince and advisers all vying for the king’s attention.

Despite finding a quiet room, Tubbo couldn’t really consider this a moment of peace. He had a speech to practice. He was pacing – a habit surely picked up from his father – trying to make sense of the notecards in his hands. He knew what they said, he had memorized them days ago, but now the text seemed to swim in front of his eyes in a way that made him dizzy. With a huff, he put the notecards back in the desk drawer, slamming it shut. 

“Doing okay?” On the other side of the room, Tubbo’s personal guard, Fundy, was leaning back on a chair, legs propped up on the table.

“Of course I am,” he says, far too quickly, “It’s not like I have to announce to the entire city that I’m to be named king or anything. It’s not like the one object that points to me at all times has been stolen or anything. It’s not like it’s the tenth anniversary of my brothers dying or anything!” 

“Alright, okay, I see, not good.” Tubbo heard the front legs of the chair touch the ground. He turned to see Fundy kicking out the other chair for him. “Sit down. C’mon.” Tubbo sighed, but sat down in the offered chair, head in his hands.

“It’s just– stressful.”

“I mean, yeah,” Fundy said, shrugging, “You’re a kid. It’s a lot to handle.”

“So? You’re not that much older than I am.” He rolled his eyes, glancing at his personal guard out of the corner of his eye. He did his best to take in a deep breath in an attempt to relax, but tomorrow’s events were weighing on him. He was restless, trying to not fidget, trying not to think about any of it. 

“I’m not going to be the crown prince,” Fundy said, and that made Tubbo all the more stressed. He was going to be the crown prince. The heir apparent. He had to announce this to an entire kingdom. 

“You’re right!” he snapped, standing quickly enough to make his chair skitter a few inches back. He started pacing, gesturing with his hands. “You’re right, Fundy, you’re not going to be the crown prince. You’re not the one making the speech. You weren’t sitting for ten years hoping Techno would just– just give up on his revenge quest and take the throne! You weren’t waiting in– in dread that your only brother wouldn’t come back one day and the throne would just go to you automatically!” He tugged at his hair, laughing almost hysterically. “You don’t have a legacy to live up to, you don’t have a tradition to carry, you’re not expected to go out and mourn–” 

“He was my mentor, too.” Tubbo stopped, looking at his friend. Fundy glanced away, picking idly at a groove in the table, his ears pinned back. “Before Eret. You know that. I miss him as much as you do.”

He didn’t. He didn’t, he couldn’t. Fundy didn’t know how it felt, how it hurt, to know he was supposed to have someone at his side. He didn’t know how it felt to have hope and get it taken away. He didn’t know how it felt to go to bed one night, twin on the other side of the room, oldest brother telling him he’d see them in the morning, only to wake up days later with both brothers gone. It wasn’t fair to Fundy, it wasn’t, Fundy didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean To–

A knock at the door jolted Tubbo out of his thoughts.

“C-come in,” he called, clasping his hands behind his back to stop wringing them. The door pushed open slowly, but to Tubbo’s surprise and relief, it wasn’t a guard coming to check on him. Instead, it was his father, eyes tired but smile gentle. Tubbo felt himself relax a fraction. “Phil. Hey.”

“One of the guards told me you’d been shouting.” King Philza Soot, fourth of his name, was widely regarded as the wisest and most respected of his predecessors. His rule had been marked by peace and prosperity, by heroic deeds and a kind, just hand extended over the kingdom. Legend had it he had slayed the dragon once terrorizing the land, though legend later became a fancy word for bedtime story, and terrorizing the land often became stealing pies from the kitchen. Tubbo couldn’t remember when he’d stopped calling him dad, though his role never changed. While he was a king to his people, Philza was always a father to his sons. “I hope you haven’t been causing too much trouble.”

“You know me,” Tubbo told the floor weakly, “Just declaring war on a neighboring fiefdom.” Phil chuckled, crossing into the room. Tubbo heard Fundy quickly stand and push in his chair. He raised a hand, silently letting his guard leave. I’m sorry. Fundy slipped from the chamber, shutting the door behind him. Phil put a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder; the boy sighed, tension draining from his shoulders. “Kind of freaking out. Not a big deal.”

“Wearing a trench into the floor again?”

“Of course.” He looked up, met with Phil’s kind gaze. “...I don’t know if I can do this.” 

“What is it you’re worried about?” The concern was clear, etched into the lines of his father’s face. Tubbo realized he’d much rather be studying the floor, waving a hand noncommittally.

“The responsibility? And–” He sighed, voice becoming a mumble. “And all of it, I suppose. All of it. Making the speech. Expectations to live up to.” Philza hummed, giving Tubbo’s shoulder a quick squeeze before dropping his hand. “I just–” Might as well try. “Can’t we wait another year? Maybe– maybe Techno will come around and–”

“Tubbo...” 

“...I know.” 

Tubbo crossed his arms, shifting in place. He didn’t… he didn’t want to. Is that all this was? That he didn’t want to? Isn’t that why Techno hadn’t just sucked it up and become king? Because he didn’t want to? Just let it defer to the youngest, because Techno didn’t feel like it. Tubbo knew that resentment wasn’t going to get him anywhere, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t mean to. If Techno could just get over it, if Techno didn’t rush out this morning, if Techno didn’t have more important things to do.

“If…” Philza started, hesitant, “If you want. We can add a clause. In the event that Techno does come around. Wouldn’t be hard to throw into the official documentation.” It’s more than Tubbo expected. He looked up quickly, eyes wide.

“Yes,” he said, nodding, “Yes, yes, yes, that. That sounds like an excellent idea, let’s do that, he’ll come around, won’t he? Maybe? One day?”

“We can hope.” Phil almost sighed, watching his son carefully. “You know, you’re allowed to ask for a hug. Certainly looks like you could use one.” Tubbo did not hesitate. He hugged Phil immediately, not wasting a single second. Deep breaths, as Phil hugged back. Deep breaths, as he tried to keep his shoulders from shaking.

“Ten years, Phil. It’s been–” Phil held him closer, protective.

“I know. I know. It’s overwhelming. All of this at once.”

“I–” His breath hitched, voice tight with fear. “I’m starting to forget their faces.” 

It was terrifying to admit. He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t want the festival to become just another festival. Just another day. But he had been young. Forgetting was natural. It was natural, a part of growing up. And that terrified him. If he could just– exist in that day forever. The one before everything went wrong. Not a care in the world. Everyone around him and alive. Everyone safe and together. Phil smoothed down the hair at the back of his son’s head, humming tunelessly. 

It used to be so easy. 

By the time Tubbo pulled away, his head hurt. It was only midday. There were things he still had to do. He excused himself from the room. 

Philza watched him go. There were things he had to attend to, as well.

Dream didn’t relish in violence, truly. He didn’t like to hurt anyone if he didn’t have to. He would threaten, though. He would threaten indiscriminately.

“Where does that passage lead?”

The man he was threatening at the moment had curling ram horns and a rumpled suit. Dream’s knife was pressed against his neck, just enough to sting.

“Look man, I– I don’t know, I think there’s– there’s a dam? A waterway? I dunno, I’ve never b–” Dream let the guy fall, barely sparing him a second glance. He knew that waterway. He turned back to his friends.

“Shall we, gentlemen?”

Chapter Text

Tommy had not done much running in his life. He never had the opportunity. Or the space. Or a reason. So after a good fifteen minutes of it, he was more than starting to get tired. The patrons at the tavern must have kept the guards occupied for a while – the sounds of shouting and clanging armor had faded quickly.

Winded, he slowed down, resting against the passageway’s dirt wall. Ranboo and Techno followed suit, neither looking too bothered by the exertion. Well, alright, sure, fine, be that way. Stupid military thief mercenary types. Techno did not look happy about stopping. His problem. 

“Doing alright?” Ranboo approached him slowly. Tommy was starting to like this guy. “We could probably walk the rest of the way from here?”

“Shouldn’t be too far,” Techno said, the glow of his lantern bathing the tunnel in warm light. He was watching the tunnel behind them, attention unbroken. Over Techno’s shoulder, Tommy noticed Ghostbur just… hovering. Studying the other. He had a look on his face Tommy had never seen before – contemplative, confused, almost sad. Techno turned to look down the other end of the hall and Ghostbur was gone, vanished faster than Tommy could blink. Ghostbur was acting weird. Tommy didn’t like it. “Let’s go. They might start catchin’ up.”

Techno started down the hall alone, Ranboo and Tommy trailing behind him. There wasn’t anything to look at down here, nothing to hold Tommy’s attention. The forest had been full of trees and bugs and cool rocks; this was all dirt. Dirt and wooden beams, and frankly, that shit was boring. Time for Tommy to flex his conversational skills.

“So!” he said, strolling up right beside Techno, “Prince Tuh-heseus.” Techno bristled, not looking at Tommy. Ranboo chirped low, warning. “I knew Technoblade couldn’t be your real name, I knew, I said–”

“I told you it wasn’t my real name.” Techno kept his jaw set, eyes forward. “And don’t call me that. The only people who call me that are foreign dignitaries and people who want to get on my nerves. And only foreign dignitaries are allowed to get away with it.” Tommy rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle threat, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“It’s quite the interesting nickname. How’d you get it?” Another warning noise from Ranboo.

“Askin’ a lot of questions for someone who isn’t answerin’ ours,” Techno said, only glancing at the boy out of the corner of his eye.

“Then ask me!” Tommy threw up his hands, voice echoing down the tunnel. He crossed his arms, huffing. He muttered, “Not like you were trying to make much conversation in the first place.”

“What was that?” Techno finally turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “Can’t hear you when you’re mumbling.” 

Tommy froze, like ice water had just been dumped on his head. His heart sped up, his posture straightened. The other two kept walking. He should have known, he should have known not to mumble. Dream would be mad, he should apologize, he didn’t want–

The lantern swung back towards him. Techno and Ranboo had stopped. They weren’t mad. Techno still looked bored. Ranboo still looked slightly apprehensive.

“No, really. I didn’t hear you.”

“S-sorry!” Tommy said quickly, catching up, “Ask me anything!” He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Over his shoulder, he briefly spotted Ghostbur looking concerned. He shook his head, and the next moment, the ghost was gone again. “So long as I get to ask you questions in return.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Techno rolled his eyes, waving a hand vaguely. Ranboo took out his notebook, jotting something down. “We’ll do a whole twenty questions, get to know each other, all that sleepover stuff.” Tommy did not know that twenty questions was a popular game. He did not know what a sleep over was, either. “Anyway,” Techno said, “What were you doin’ up in that tower?” Oh, easy.

“I live there.” Tommy’s turn. “Who gave you your nickname?”

“My brother,” Techno grunted. He did not elaborate. Rude. “Why were you livin’ in that tower?”

“Keeps me safe, dunnit? S’what Dream always said.” It was pretty obvious, in Tommy’s opinion. “Apparently we used to live in the city, but some wronguns came by and tried to steal me. Fucked up, right? Who tries to steal a child?” He scoffed, starting to relax again. “So ‘e took me out to live in the tower. No thieves or baddies out there.” He needed a question. “How did you find the tower?”

“Accident.” Techno half-grinned, gesturing at Ranboo with his thumb. “This guy fell through a wall.”

“Hey!” Ranboo protested.

“Am I wrong?”

“...No.” Techno chuckled to himself in triumph. His attention went back to Tommy.

“Next question: who is Dream?” 

“He’s my…” Tommy couldn’t place why, but he felt nervous. Not at the interrogation, necessarily but at what he was supposed to call Dream. He wasn’t a parent, not really, but he was an older brother figure? Maybe? “He’s my mentor. He lives in the tower with me. Keeps me safe n’ that. Never seen his face, though. He's got this mask 'e always wears? Bloody weird, if you ask me. Mask n' cloak, that's–"

“And he’s not, like, your dad or anything?” Ranboo asked, cutting off whatever Tommy was going to say next.

“What? No,” Tommy scoffed, rolling his eyes. Stupid question. “Real family thought I was–” He held up his hands for air quotes. “–‘a little brat’ and ‘too dangerous’ to keep around, fuckin’ apparently.” He rolled his eyes harder, crossing his arms. He’s a bloody delight, thanks. He’d get to the city and show them what for. “And, oi, that was two questions.”

“Then ask us two questions in response,” Techno said dismissively, back to not looking at him. Again, rude. Truly. He’d wound up with the worst traveling companion. Ranboo wasn’t too bad, but Technoblade was proving to be a real bitch. 

“Fine, I will.” Gods, now he had to come up with two questions. “Uh.” He glanced to Ghostbur, who shrugged. “Who… is. Your favorite woman.” Nailed it. “And– what’s the worst swear word you know?” Ranboo hid a laugh behind a hand, and Techno turned just enough to look at him in complete confusion.

“What kind of question is that?” 

“Just answer them!” Ghostbur was laughing, sounding distant; Tommy shot him a dirty look, which only made him laugh harder. Ranboo actually seemed to be thinking about it.

“I think…” he said, “Probably the ⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀ ⎅⍀⏃☌⍜⋏ and ‘⋏⌇⊑⍜⍀⏁.’” Ranboo opened his mouth and made the most unholy goddamn noise Tommy had heard in his fucking live. What the hell. Ghostbur was making a face as well, but it was more like sage understanding than Tommy’s bewilderment. He gave Tommy a shrug that said he’s right. 

“Those are the worst small talk questions I have ever heard. Niki and ‘cactus.’” Techno’s answer was entirely deadpan. 

“That is not a swear!” Tommy protested, but Techno held up a finger.

“Who’s your imaginary friend?” Tommy stopped, fully stopped, looking towards Ghostbur for help. Ghostbur shrugged again. Techno raised an eyebrow. “The one you’re always talking to.”

“Well.” Tommy cleared his throat, continuing to walk. “First off, he’s not imaginary. He’s a ghost.” Ranboo wrote this in his notebook. Tommy didn’t think he particularly liked that. “Second, his name’s Ghostbur, but sometimes I call ‘im Wil.” Technoblade tensed. “Yeah, he’s always been around, keeping me company and all and he's got this spot where he-”  Beside him, Ghostbur’s eyes went wide. He started shaking his head frantically, waving his arms. The spot under his ribs started turning blue, a deep, royal color. Tommy had only seen that once or twice in the past, and it was just as terrifying now as the last time. He stammered, “And– and he is currently telling me to end this train of thought?” Ghostbur nodded, touching the spot. His hand came away azure, but the spot started to fade. “He is telling me to– to not continue telling you this.”

“Why?” Ranboo asked, but Techno held up a hand, listening. 

“Hold on.” The tunnel was silent. On the other side, distantly, Tommy could hear water. But then he heard it, what Techno was listening for. The sound of footfalls over packed earth and the clatter of metal armor. Shouting. Techno swore under his breath, turning pushing the other two forward. “Run. We need to run. Right now.”

The light from the guards’ lanterns was getting closer. Ranboo took off into the dark, Techno and Tommy close behind.

Wilbur woke up to the sound of someone crying. No breaking glass, no opening doors, just someone crying. Two someones. His brothers. A nightmare? No. Couldn’t be.

Something was wrong. 

The crying continued, sobs and– shit, was that his name? They were calling for him, for Techno, for their father. Then, another voice, a condescending tenor.

“Oh, be quiet. Someone’s going to hear you.”

The twins suddenly stopped crying. Both of them. At the same time. Shit.

It was midsummer, a warm night, the windows open. They were at least four stories up, how could– no time. He grabbed the rapier hanging on the wall and tore down the hallway. Just a few doors away. Just a few doors. One of them was Techno’s; he threw that one open, too. 

“Get up, get up, something’s wrong,” he urged, not looking to see if Techno was up or not before he kept running. The door to the twins’ room was closed. Wilbur kicked it open without a second thought.

Tubbo was sitting on his bed, silently wiping his eyes and looking panicked. Tommy’s bed was empty. The window was wide open. A figure stood, silhouetted in the moonlight, one hand on the window frame. He was wearing a hooded cloak, dark green, and Wilbur felt his blood freeze as he turned. The cloak moved like there was a person wearing it, but the form inside was indistinct, like looking through frosted glass. In place of a face, he only had a white mask, two dot eyes and a crude line of a smile. And in one indistinct arm, he held Tommy. The boy looked smaller than normal, terrified, clutching a gleaming compass in one hand. The figure sighed, exasperated but exaggerated.

“See?” he said, mask tilted towards the child, “You were loud, and now we have a visitor.” The cloak and mask moved like the figure was shaking his head. He set Tommy down on the window seat. “Go back to sleep, both of you.” 

For a moment, the noise started back up. Sniffles and sobs and a soft, scared, “Wil?” but it didn’t last. In identical movements, both twins put their heads down and fell asleep. Wilbur did his best to not shake. He had to do this. He was the eldest. He had to protect them. He just had to hold the figure’s attention until Techno arrived. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” the figure asked, cocking his head to the side, “I’m taking back what’s rightfully mine.”

“Rightfully yours? He’s a child, not an object, he’s not yours to take.” Come on, Techno. Come on. Hurry.

The figure sighed again. “The flower wasn’t yours to take, and yet.” He shrugged, the cloak moving with the suggestion of shoulders. “You going to do something about it?”

Was this what Wilbur had been training for? The kingdom was in an era of peace, there was no war, and they certainly weren’t going to make the eldest prince a regular guard. He’d never been trained for a situation like this. Not like this.

Nevertheless, he lunged.

Ranboo had almost forgotten it was still daytime. Blinded, he stumbled from the tunnel, opening his eyes in time to see the ledge he was about to walk off of. Before he could process this, Techno was grabbing the back of his shirt and hauling him back, saving him from certain death again. He was starting to rack up a lot of debts, wasn’t he.

The tunnel opened into a quarry, about halfway up the rock wall, a series of aqueducts held up on stilts leading from a gated dam to a large barrel. The sound of rushing water was immense, not deafening but consistent; it made Ranboo’s head spin, static in his ears. Oh, this could be bad. He could hold off on the panic for now. Maybe. Hopefully.

There wasn’t time to think. They didn’t have time to think. They had to move, and they had to move fast. Ranboo dusted himself off and looked around. The cliffs were too steep to climb, the drop was too sheer to jump from. There were the aqueducts. They could run across the aqueducts. 

Ranboo did not want to do that.

“We need to get down there!” Techno said, pointing to a spot in the quarry. There was another tunnel, an opening in the rock. They could escape. They could get the guards off their backs. All they had to do was get to the bottom of the quarry without breaking any bones, getting shot by guards with crossbows, getting stabbed, or anything else that would put a person, human or otherwise, in mortal danger. 

Ranboo looked back to the tunnel – the guards rounded the corner, seeing the group at the cliff’s edge. They were drawing their swords. Some had crossbows. The shout of recognition went up; the guards were running faster. The sound of their footsteps against the stone matched how hard his heart was pounding.

“Techno?!” he called, looking around wildly for a way to get down, “Any ideas?!”

Techno swore under his breath, scanning the quarry for something, anything.

“There!” he said, pointing to a ledge twenty feet down, “Can you warp with another person?” Ranboo wanted to protest – he could, it took a lot of energy but he could – but the guards were getting closer. He nodded, eyes wide. Techno shoved Tommy towards him. “Get to the bottom, use that ledge first. I’ll get down on my own.”

“But–” He caught Tommy, the boy scrambling to pull himself upright again.

“Go!”

The guards burst from the tunnel just as Ranboo blinked away, Tommy pulled with him. They reappeared on the ledge, leaving Techno alone. It was too loud here, everything too chaotic, everyone yelling.

“Where’d he go?!” A guard. Angry.

“My lord?” Another guard. Bewildered.

“Get back!” Techno. The telltale sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy. Also bewildered. Understandable, really.

“Down there!” A third guard. Yikes.

It would only take one more warp to get to the bottom, luckily. Ranboo would only have enough energy for that, to bring both him and Tommy down there. The guards were starting to advance on Techno. One aimed a crossbow down at the teenagers. Oh. They had to go now. Got it. The guard fired and Ranboo managed to pull both himself and Tommy down to the bottom of the quarry right before the bolt could hit them. Tommy shrieked in surprise, holding the – wait, he still had it?? – frying pan in front of his face like a shield. His other hand was clasped around Ranboo’s wrist, almost burning. What the hell? Did he touch the water? The spot Tommy had clasped hurt, like he’d been scalded. Tommy stumbled away, leaning heavily against one of the wooden support beams and watching Techno.

“My lord, what’s the meaning of this?!” the first guard demanded. The leader, then. It was hard to see what was going on, but Techno had his sword drawn and his cloak was blowing in the wind. Dramatic.

“The thief is mine to apprehend, and mine alone.” Techno’s voice was dangerous. Ranboo could smell woodsmoke. A nearby campfire? There might be others somewhere. He kept his eyes on the ledge. “The message was put out this morning.”

“The message was to apprehend the thief by any m–”

“The message changed,” Techno snarled, taking a step forward. The guards all backed up a step. “By order of the king. That Prince Theseus Soot was to be the one to apprehend the thief responsible for stealing the compass.” He said every word like a threat. The woodsmoke smell was getting stronger. Ranboo glanced around at the skyline, unable to see a source over the cliffs. “Are you–” Step. “–going to get–” Step. “–in the way of that?” Step. 

“N-no, sir, but–”

A loud crack resounded through the quarry. Everything stopped. To Ranboo’s left, Tommy fell to the ground. The beam holding up the barrel above them – above them, oh gods, right above them – was charred all the way through, snapped in two with flames starting to climb towards the top. How– how did– 

The barrel swayed dangerously and started to fall. The latticework keeping the aqueducts up began to burn. The lock on the dam was starting to catch. Oh, gods.

At the top of the ledge, Techno was looking for an out. The collapsing aqueducts would have to do. He started to slide down one of the waterways, the beams breaking behind him. The guards yelled after him, but it was too late. He was already halfway down. The lock on the dam was fully in flames. The barrel atop the water tower started to fall. Ranboo grabbed Tommy’s wrist, tugging him to his feet and pulling him towards the tunnel. 

Behind him, the sound of wood splintering. He looked back to see Techno jump the remaining distance down, somersaulting as he hit the ground and not losing any momentum. Ranboo watched in shock as Techno ran for the tunnel, managing to get inside before the light was suddenly cut off. The barrel. It was– it was blocking–

The sound of rushing water suddenly became deafening. The dam lock. Oh, gods, no. In the dim light left in Techno’s lantern, Ranboo could see water starting to push through the cracks in the barrel. No, no, no, this couldn’t– Techno was still running. They needed to keep running. There would be an exit, they’d find an exit. It would be fine. It would be fine!

They ran down the dark tunnel, barely able to see the ground in front of them. Their footsteps echoed off the stone walls, the water echoing louder, the floor slowly getting covered in water.  Ranboo’s boots were waterproof. He’d be fine, he’d be fine. Maybe. Probably.

The other end of the tunnel should have been coming up soon. There had been a cave-in. The tunnel was blocked off by a large pile of rock. No, no. Tommy slammed his frying pan against the stones, cast iron denting with how much force behind each swing, but it did nothing. The water was still rising. He swore in frustration, throwing the busted pan back down where they came. It hissed and steamed as it hit the ground.

The water brushed their ankles. Tommy was still swearing, starting to pace up and down in the section of tunnel they had left. His words didn’t make any sense, even through Ranboo’s panic.

“He was right, he was right, I shouldn’t have left, he knew and he was right and–” Tommy paced back and forth, tugging at his hair, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I left and he told me not to and now we’re going to– he was right, I wasn’t ready and now– this is all–” He laughed, weak. “This is all my fault.” He threw his hands in the air. “This is all my fault!”

Techno was trying to pull the rocks away, but the water was still rising. Some wouldn’t come away. There were too many. The water was up to their knees now. Ranboo hissed in pain, water starting to touch his skin. Gods, he was going to die, he was going to die and he was going to be in agony the entire time. It didn’t hurt, not yet, but it would. It would very, very soon.

Gods, it was selfish. Gods, fuck, it was selfish, but he still fucking did it. He tried to teleport away. To see if there was something on the other side. He couldn’t– he couldn’t visualize the other side. He didn’t have the energy. He didn’t have the strength. He tried again, winding up back in the same spot every time. He couldn’t hold back the scream of frustration, fear, pain. The sound echoed off the walls, off the water. It was starting to sting.

They were stuck. 

Tommy’s panicked pacing slowed to a stop. He was quiet. There was only the sound of the water, still rising. It was up to their waists, now. The lantern fell away, and went out.

“Well.” Ranboo surprised himself as he spoke. “Anything we want to share, in our last moments?” Silence. “I can go first.” Nothing. He took a deep breath – the water hit his hand. He hissed again, panic flaring up in his chest. “I don’t know where I came from. My memory’s– gods, terrible, fuck, I barely know who I am.” It felt so weak to say. It felt so shameful. “Thought I could– start stealing things and make a name for myself, but now I’m–” He cut himself off with another chirp, unable to stop it.

Halfway up their chests. 

“I couldn’t save my brothers.” Techno’s voice was quiet. A soft, guilty admission. “I wasn’t up fast enough. Got caught off guard. They’re dead n’ it’s my fault.” A sniffle. “‘M older now than my brother was when he died.” It was too dark to really see anything, but that outline of the young man was back. His eyes were sad. He was reaching for Techno. But– no, that wasn’t possible. It was just Ranboo’s imagination, it had to be. He didn’t see anything. “And– and I’ve been tellin’ myself that one might still be alive, but I know he’s not.” He laughed, spiteful. “We’re not goin’ to find him. Couldn’t even find the bastard who did it. It’s been ten years.” Techno rubbed his hands over his eyes, sighing. “And I’m just gonna fuckin’ disappear on the– the anniversary. Because I was too busy avoidin’ acceptin’ it.” 

Up to their necks.

“I caused the flood,” Tommy said. Ranboo looked to where his voice was coming from. “I’ve got these– shitty fuckin’ fire powers. Got gave away because of it. Dream– he– he said I wasn’t ready yet an’ if I could, y’know, not set shit on fire I’d be able to– to try an’ find ‘em again, not that they wanted me?” He made a strangled, hysterical noise. “Maybe I could give ‘em hell for it but– but only after I could control it. And if I’m– I’m stressed out or mad it just– happens and I can’t control it, I’m always settin’ shit on fire and–” In the dark, Ranboo could have sworn Tommy’s eyes went wide. “And it makes my hair glow.”

“What.” Techno’s voice was flat in the way that meant he was beside himself. Ranboo could almost laugh at the absurdity; it became a gasp of pain, instead.

Up to their mouths, nearly.

“My– my hair glows, if– if I focus enough, I can–” Tommy took a few deep breaths, before going quiet. The water was up to their eyes. Ranboo took a final deep breath with the last bit of air in the tunnel. What a miserable way to die.

There was light. Ranboo opened his eyes, the water stinging but– yeah. Yep. This was happening.

Tommy’s hair was glowing. 

Techno’s eyes were wide, shocked. Ranboo imagined he looked similar. Tommy pointed, swimming down. There was a spot in the rocks. There was a spot in the rocks where the water was getting sucked out. He pulled at the stones, starting to pull them away. Techno started pulling at them, the gap getting wider. Ranboo could only move a few, the water rushing past him, burning worse than any fire could.

The glow faded. Ranboo blacked out.

Techno woke up to his older brother throwing his door open and saying something before running out again. He sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Down the hall, Wilbur kicked a door down. What the hell? He could hear Wilbur talking to someone, and that someone responding, and it wasn’t a voice Techno knew. He took the knife from his desk and started down the hall. The bruise on his ribs ached; he’d been hit wrong while sparring that day, and it hurt to move. 

He heard metal skitter against stone, and a muttered curse. Impact. Techno tried to move faster, heart pounding, eyes wide. A snarl. A gasp. A soft, amused chuckle. He was almost there, he was almost there. 

The sound of a sword being driven through flesh. A choked-off cry.

Techno entered the room just in time to see a figure in a green cloak with a white, smiling mask pull a sword from his brother’s abdomen, toss the sword away, and throw his brother to the ground. The clatter of metal on a wooden floor. Impact. Techno rushed to his side, but Wilbur shook his head. He was– he would be fine. He would be fine. He had to be fine. Never mind the red blooming on his yellow sweater.

The masked figure was still staring down at them, now holding the sleeping Tommy. Techno stood, brandishing his knife. 

“Put him down, and get out,” he growled, advancing a step. The figure laughed - not a quiet chuckle, but a real laugh. Mocking.

“You won’t be able to fight me and still manage to save your brother. You can’t win this one.”

“You think I won’t try?”

The masked figure sighed again, a metaphysical eye roll. “He did.” He gestured to Wilbur, whose breathing had gone panicked. The red stain had grown. “And look where he wound up. Bleeding out on a nursery floor.” Techno tried to lunge, but the figure raised a shadowy hand; Techno seized in pain, dropping to the ground. Something was happening, something was wrong, and it hurt. The figure shook his head, standing on the windowsill. “Keep it as a reminder,” he said, and vanished over the ledge.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Techno muttered, crawling the last few feet over to his brother. He sat him up, the elder prince inhaling sharply. “Wil?”

Wilbur blinked up at him slowly, a smile crossing his face. “Hey, Technoblade.” He winced in pain, breaths becoming shallower and shallower. His eyes closed for a moment, but Techno shook him.

“Stay with me. You’ll be fine, you just gotta stay awake. Stay awake, please–” Wilbur touched the wound through his sweater, his hand coming away red. 

“That’s… not good,” he said, looking up at Techno.

“It’ll be fine, you’re gonna be fine. Dad’s on his way, he’ll–” 

“Dad’s on his way?” Wilbur’s voice was weak. Techno held him closer. “Alright. Good.” His eyes started to droop shut again, his forehead pressed to Techno’s side. “I’m gonna… rest, for a moment.” His voice was getting quieter with each word. Techno could hear shouting down the hall, the sound of people running. “Just… wake me up when he’s here.” 

“He’ll be here any second, you can stay awake for another minute, please, please, don’t–” 

Wilbur’s hand dropped to the floor. 

Rumors spread quickly throughout the castle, differing accounts, but all of them ended the same way:

The eldest prince had been slain, the second eldest cursed, and the youngest taken. One compass remained on the nightstand, pointing to the prince still sleeping soundly in his bed.

Techno gasped. He hauled himself onto the bank of the stream, coughing violently.

It was sunset.

Summer air had never tasted sweeter.

His braid had been pulled loose, hair plastered to his face and tangled in his gear. His gear, which was, of course, completely drenched. Fuck.

He looked around, taking in his surroundings – base of a mountain, bank of a stream, middle of a forest, west of Niki’s. Closer to the city. Good. To his right, a loud, hacking cough, with intermittent swearing. Tommy. Alright, good. To his left–

Shit.

Techno moved through the water faster than he reasonably should have been able to toward Ranboo. The kid was a little further up the stream, half out of the water, unconscious. He always avoided water, he was freaking out in the cave, Techno knew water wasn’t good for the kid and the kid almost drowned. He dragged Ranboo onto the bank of the stream, careful to not jostle him any further. The white side of his face was covered in angry red marks, and there was a… hand-shaped burn on his wrist? That’s. Weird. He was breathing, though, which was what mattered, even if it was shallow. He was breathing, which meant he was alive, which meant Techno wouldn’t lose another associate. Good. 

Gods. He really had poured his heart out in there, hadn’t he. He was selfish. He had always been selfish. What were the chances Tommy would tease him about this? Pretty high, probably. Then again, they’d all gone into deep dark secret territory. Emotions weren’t Techno’s thing. Gods, even blaming himself was selfish. They’d get home and he would never take anything for granted again. Apologize to Tubbo. Apologize to Phil. Gods, he was a piece of shit. Hadn’t even apologized to his father. He’d apologized to Wilbur plenty. And to– to his other brother, but now that brother was– 

Ranboo’s eyes shot open; he heaved a deep breath, sitting up and coughing sharply. Techno jumped and sat back, not bothering to hide his concern. It wasn’t like the kid was paying attention, anyway. He was too busy remembering how to breathe. As he moved, Techno could see that Ranboo had similar abrasions on the other side of his face as well, lime green against deep black. Huh. Alright. That’s... got to hurt. Ranboo didn’t seem to notice, not yet. He was too busy swinging his bag around and rifling through the contents.

“Where– where is it?” He dug through his waterlogged pack, muttering and tossing out items at random. “Where’s–” Another bout of coughing, another pained chirp. “– Did– did I lose it? Is it– where–?” His shoulders slumped, panic draining from him instantly. Still talking to himself, he pulled his notebook from the bag, flipping through the waterproofed pages. “Okay. Okay. All here. All good. That was– phew, alright, that’s– okay. All here.” He put the book back in the bag, wincing as he moved. “Oh, ow. Oh, that’s bad.” He touches the side of his face, fingers coming away with the slightest trace of green blood. “Huh! That’s not good.” Techno shifted awkwardly, not wanting to startle the kid. He still jumped, eyes wide, clutching the bag to his chest. “Techno.”

“Yep.”

“You’re alive.”

“Yep.” 

“He’s alive, too.” Ranboo looked towards Tommy; the boy wasn’t paying attention, clutching something on a chain around his neck. “...And his hair glows.”

Right.

“...Yep.” Techno grimaced at that one. Tommy’s hair glows. Of course. It just– had to glow. Shaking his head, Techno called over to the boy. “Hey. Tommy. You doin’ okay?” 

Tommy looked up quickly, stuffing the… necklace? back under his shirt and standing up. He strolled over, confidence in his posture but apprehension still in his eyes.

“My friends!” he crowed, jovial in the same way Techno’s brother always was when he was stressed out, “You’ve made it out! We were almost afraid you’d get lost without us.” He gave a smarmy look to the air next to him, elbowing someone (Wil, Techno’s brain supplies,) in the invisible side. “If it weren’t for my quick thinking, we’d still be in there! Thank me at your own convenience.” 

That was not an answer. Techno rolled his eyes, huffing a short breath and turning back to Ranboo.

“Will you be alright if I leave you with him for a few minutes?” he said quietly, nodding towards Tommy. Ranboo nodded, but winced again. Another pang of worry shot through Techno’s heart. “...Are you, uh. Alright. In general.”

“I’ll be fine. Sleep it off.” Techno pursed his lips. Also not an answer. Teenagers. The kid met his eyes for a moment, glanced back to Tommy, and then to his bag. “Techno...” Techno hummed. “His hair glows. He–”

“I know,” he scowled, standing. They were on the edge of a thicket of trees. Should be firewood in there. He spared one last glance towards his apprentice, then to his– to Tommy. “I’m going to set up camp.”

He pulled the hatchet from his belt, and stalked away from the streambank.

By the time Dream arrived at the quarry, royal guards were already patrolling the area. The dam had been hastily locked; he could see city carpenters and what appeared to be an overworked mage securing wooden beams into place, holding the water at bay. The aqueducts were in waterlogged pieces all around. Several supports had been scorched, the lock burned away. The floodwaters had drained, leaving puddles all over the bottom of the quarry. A harrowed-looking soldier was talking to a man with a notebook, pointing at a large, collapsed barrel, which appeared to be blocking another tunnel. It was hard to hear, but the words they went in there, I think they got trapped echoed off the stone walls, sending a spike of fear through Dream’s core.

George reappeared at the top of the cliff, still dressed like a soldier. He dropped the disguise, removing a pair of dark glasses from his pocket to clean them.

“They went into the tunnel,” George said. The exact opposite of what Dream wanted to hear. He gripped his axe tighter, leather binding creaking under his hand. “It goes for about half a mile, but there was a cave-in a few months ago.” Even worse. George looked up at Dream for a moment, blank eyes meeting mask, before he replaced the glasses. He shrugged. “Not much we can do.”

Sapnap cleared his throat.

“He’s still alive. You’d have felt it if he wasn’t.” True. Dream didn’t relax. “And they’re on the other side. Must have gotten through the block.” 

The sun was red, dipping below the treeline. Dream could only just make out the peaks of the castle. 

“Hang back. Keep to the tops of the cliffs. I’m going down below.” Dream was calm. He was collected. He was in control. He had to be in control.  Ant pressed a weakness potion into his hand. 

“Just in case.” 

Dream nodded once, tucking the potion into his belt. As he drifted away, he could hear Bad giving instructions to the others, not dissimilar from how he did before the Hunt. Hushed, pointed, easy to follow. 

Tommy wasn’t far off. He wasn’t alone, but that wouldn’t be an issue. As much as Dream liked the tower, it obviously hadn’t been good enough. There were plenty of places they could go. He slipped into the treeline, and vanished from sight.

Chapter Text

Everything hurt. Not too bad! Just a sting, really! But, uh. But it did hurt. Ranboo knew he could sleep it off. Just get a little rest. He’d be fine. But having all of your exposed skin covered in microabrasions and burns from what was, essentially, a genetic allergy wasn’t, well, the most comfortable.

Techno had set up camp faster than Ranboo could really process, faster than he’d seen him do on any other occasion that they had to camp. He had been silent as he set up a circle of rocks for the fire, collected a few fallen branches for kindling, and cleared a spot for Ranboo to sit. He only spoke once everything was in place, curt and to the point. 

“Do your thing.” Said in Tommy’s direction. “I’m getting firewood.” And then he was gone.

Tommy lit the fire without question, almost mechanical. He was sitting in front of it now. He had been quiet for some time, just staring. Contemplating, maybe. Sometimes he’d shake his head or flick his hand like he was brushing away a bug, but he didn’t say anything.

Gods. Where was Techno when Ranboo needed him. He’d know how to fix a social situation.

Ranboo fidgeted as he sat on his tree stump. Y’know! It wasn’t that bad! He wasn’t that injured. He could feel the miniature lacerations healing already. To prove it to himself, he touched his cheek. It stung like hell. He hissed, pulling his hand back - blood. He’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. He just needed to sleep it off. The fire was nice. He could get some rest like this.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Ranboo flinched, whipping around to see who it was.

It was a slightly transparent young man, floating a few feet off the ground.

“Wh–?!” He jumped, falling off the stump and scrambling a few feet back, eyes wide. “What the–”

“Hello!” The young man - ghost? - waved at him cheerily, voice echoing faintly.

“Uh–” Okay. Ranboo just had to remember how to breathe. Second time he had to do that today! New record. “H-hi?”

“Did I startle you?” The ghost frowned, drifting closer. It clicked. The outline of the man in the cavern.

“Y-yeah, you–” Gods, ow. Blood dripped down Ranboo’s temple. “A little? Who- who are you?”

“Oh! Right!” The ghost beamed again, standing up straight and sticking out a hand as if in formal introduction. “My name is Ghostbur, you can call me Ghostbur, I am the ghost and you are injured.” Sitting up, arm unsteady, Ranboo shook his hand. There were traces of green on Ghostbur’s palm as he pulled away. “Yes. That is an injury. That looks very bad. I may not know a lot about injuries, but that does not look good.” Ranboo nodded slowly, not quite… comprehending the situation. He was talking to a ghost. Okay. “Mhm, mhm,” Ghostbur hummed and tapped his chin, looking him up and down, “Yes, that looks very uncomfortable.” An understatement. The ghost leaned in, conspiratorial. “You know,” he stage whispered, “Tommy wouldn’t want me to tell you this, he’s always too busy being down on himself, but he can do more than just fire.”

Ranboo glanced to Tommy; the boy was staring at them. He met Tommy’s eyes for an uneasy half second, before turning back to Ghostbur. 

“He can?”

“Oh, yes,” Ghostbur said, bangs falling into his eyes. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two. “He can heal, too. Heal anything he comes across. Bat with a broken wing flew into the tower one night, you should have seen the chaos it made, tore right through my paper chains, but– once it landed. Tommy just closed his eyes and focused on it, and it flew away a few minutes later. Right out the window where it came from. I was the only one to see it because Dream wasn’t home, but it was very impressive.” The ghost glanced sidelong at Tommy, dropping back into his stage whisper. “Tommy doesn’t like hearing that his abilities are good, he thinks I’m lying since I’m a ghost, but I never lie, so it has to be true. I think it’s because he doesn’t hear that he’s good at having powers very often, but he wouldn’t let that on. Never.” 

Across the fire, Tommy jolted, a look of hurt briefly flashing across his face. Ranboo got back up, sitting heavily on his tree stump once more. ☌⍜⎅⌇, ⏁⊑⟟⌇ ⍙⏃⌇ ⍙⍜⍀⌇⟒ ⏁⊑⏃⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌰⏃⌇⏁ ⏁⟟⋔⟒. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the fact that he definitely just got blood in it.

“Last time?” Ghostbur said curiously. Yikes, had he said that out loud? “What last time? It must have been very unpleasant.”

“It was, uh.” Water. Too much of it. Getting pushed. Unable to warp away. “Yeah. It was pretty bad,” Ranboo rasped. He cleared his throat, looking at Tommy. “Is it true?”

“What?” The boy immediately became defensive, crossing his arms.

“The- the healing thing.”

“‘Course it is,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Can’t say I’m all too bloody good at it, but I can do it.” Ghostbur started to protest, but Tommy was already crossing the circle. “I can, y’know. Heal you.” He scuffed his foot against the ground, shrugging with one shoulder. “‘Cause you look like shit.”

“Feel like it,” Ranboo muttered, and Tommy– snorted. Actually kind of laughed. 

“Alright, gimme your hand.” The boy held out a hand; Ranboo took it, ignoring how the movement made him wince. “Alright. Here goes.” Tommy took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Ranboo watched as his hair started to glow like it had in the cavern; the power flowed down to his arm, a soft golden light surrounding him. It was… comfortable. It was kind of nice, even. 

Ranboo’s skin prickled for a moment. The glow faded. So did the pain. Ranboo moved his hand. It didn’t hurt. He touched his face. No new blood. 

“See!” Ghostbur said, “I told you! Tommy is very good at what he does.” 

“Shut it,” Tommy groaned, but he was proud of himself, Ranboo could tell. 

The blood was starting to congeal. Gross.

“I’m gonna, uh.” Ranboo stood, grabbing a kerchief from his pocket. His clothes were dry. Tommy’s were too. Huh. “Clean up real fast.” He dusted himself off superficially, before looking at Tommy. “And, thanks. I mean it.”

“S’no problem.” The boy shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. Ranboo took that as his cue to leave.

The edge of the stream wasn’t too far from where they’d set up. The water prickled against his skin as he got the cloth damp, only slightly unpleasant as he cleaned up. No more blood, red mixing with bright green against the white fabric. He’d have to burn the kerchief when he was done, there would be no getting those stains out. 

Some rest would do him well. Techno would come back with the firewood, they could all sleep, no big deal. What a day it had been. 

Once Ranboo was out of earshot, Tommy sharply turned to Ghostbur.

“What the hell was that?!” he half-shouted, half-whispered. The ghost blinked at him, feigning innocence.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.”

“Bullshit you don’t.” Tommy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a huff.

“Come on. You’re not mad, I know you’re not.” Ghostbur drifted closer, reaching out to pinch Tommy’s cheek. The boy swatted his hand away, making him laugh and dodge the half-hearted attack.

“Well, maybe I’m not.” Tommy rolled his eyes again, but he couldn’t help smiling, just a little. He tapped his knee a few times, glancing over to the stream. “...Why did you show yourself to him? And how come you know everything he says when he makes those weird noises?”

“I’m fluent in Ender,” Ghostbur said with a shrug, as if that didn’t raise more questions, “I think my dad made me learn it? He said it was important or something. I don’t know. But Ranboo’s speaking Ender. Not sure where he’s from, he didn’t speak enough for me to tell the dialect. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how he got here, the recorded Enderman population is very low in this area.” Tommy stared at him, unsure how to interrupt. Ghostbur kept talking. “I used to be very good at that, you know, placing accents and dialects. Any time someone with an accent would come around, I’d be able to say, oh, you, you’re from up north, or, oh, hey, that guy’s from across the sea. I was very good with geography.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “You know…” he said, puzzled, “I’m not quite sure I know where Dream’s accent is from. I’ve heard it before, but I couldn’t tell you the location. It’s nowhere I’ve visited, at least.”

“You didn’t answer my other question, prick.” Tommy had a lot of questions, actually. Why was Ghostbur familiar with the recorded Enderman population of the local area? What was an Enderman, and why was Ranboo one? Why did Ghostbur speak Ender in the first place? Did he speak other languages? Who was his father? Why did he need to know where accents were from? Where had he visited? What did he remember from his life? 

Who... was he? 

“Hm?” Ghostbur had that innocent look again. He’d never done anything wrong in his life, that look said. Tommy didn’t believe it for a second. “Oh, yes, right. Why I let him see me. I think it’s quite obvious.” He looked around briefly, checking their surroundings, wringing his hands all the while. “It’s because Technoblade isn’t here. And I’m a little worried about him seeing me? I’d much rather not make him upset.”

“Why would that make him upset?” No, there was something a little more pressing on Tommy’s mind. “Actually, wait, why did you know his name in the first place, hm? Feels like there’s something you’re not telling me.” 

Ghostbur froze. Tommy hadn’t noticed it before, but his hands were stained a deep, dark blue. Several expressions passed over his face in rapid succession - fear, panic, grief, confusion, genuine puzzlement.

“I–” Blue dripped from his hands, vanishing as it hit the clearing floor. “I don’t know. I just– did.” Ghostbur let out a nervous chuckle, glancing at Tommy through his bangs. “I mean– there’s a lot of things. That I don’t know how I know. But– you’ve got stuff like that too!” Ghostbur rounded on him, pointing a blue-stained finger. “I never told you to call me Wil, but you still do. And you always have, you always knew it was a nickname for me, isn’t that strange, mhm, I think it is, quite strange indeed.” 

“Wh–” It was true. Tommy had always known that Ghostbur was called Wil. He… he didn’t know how he knew that. It had to be short for something, right? “Well, you never tell me anything, anyway! Maybe I just made it up, and you went with it! Not like you let me in on whatever little secrets you’re keeping in that empty head of yours!” Ghostbur gasped, affronted.

“Well, at least I’m not some foolish child, who–”

“I am not a child, you stupid undead son of a–”

“Uh, guys?” They both stopped, turning slowly. Ranboo had returned. “What’s, uh. What’s goin’ on over here?”

“Nothing!!” Ghostbur said, high pitched and nervous. He tried to shove Tommy aside, hands passing through the teen’s shoulder.

“Actually,” Tommy interrupted, entirely unphased, “we were talking about Ghostbur’s sudden decision to let you see him, and his entirely vague and presumably tragic backstory that he has refused to share for as long as I’ve known him.”

“…Huh.” As good a response as Ranboo could have given, given the circumstances. He’d just found out ghosts were real, after all. And that Tommy didn’t just have some ‘imaginary friend.’ Someone else could see Ghostbur, take that, Dream. “I mean,” he said slowly, watching Tommy’s reaction, “We all shared bits of our… tragic backstories?” Tommy nodded enthusiastically, liking where this was going. “So, it only makes sense if, uh. If you tell us stuff, too, Ghostbur.”

Fucking score, Tommy knew he liked this guy for a reason, he knew Ranboo would be some kind of genius. They both looked to Ghostbur expectantly. The ghost glared back at them, but Tommy knew that face. It was the face of someone who really wanted to argue with the logic presented to him, but absolutely couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair, now, would it? Everybody else shared, after all. After a moment, Ghostbur raked a hand through his hair, tilting his head back in exasperation.

“Fiiiiiiiine,” he groaned. Tommy cheered, punching Ranboo in the shoulder. The older teen stumbled sideways from the force, looking momentarily bewildered, but smiled when he saw Tommy’s grin. Ghostbur tutted, shaking his head. Tommy flipped him off, tugging Ranboo back over to the campfire. Oh, he was excited now, this must be like one of those sleep-overs Techno had referred to. He would be the best sleep-over host ever. Ghostbur drifted over, still looking annoyed. He didn’t mean it, he wasn’t really mad, but he could be such a pouty bitch when he felt like it. He had his arms crossed again, glare leveled at the both of them. “I will not be the only one sharing,” he said, pointing at the both of them, “You two both have to give up a secret or something.”

“But you already know everything about me, you’ve been with me since–“

“But he hasn’t.” Ghostbur jabbed his finger at Ranboo, “So you have to.” Tommy snarled under his breath, no heat behind it; Ghostbur stuck out his tongue at him, but settled by the fire. He seemed to think for a moment, and frowned. “Well…” he hazarded, “What do you want to know?”

What didn’t Tommy want to know. He wanted to know everything. 

“Why do you know Technoblade, and why did you know his whole name before he told us?” Start simple. It only makes sense.

“Uh.” Ghostbur shrunk slightly into himself, looking anywhere but at Tommy. “About that.” He chuckled awkwardly, arms conveniently covering that spot under his ribs. “I don’t… know?” Tommy frowned, leaning forward.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean…” The ghost met his eye for a second, before looking back down. “I recognize him, and- and trust him? But–” Ghostbur shrank further, shoulders hunched. “–but he looks wrong and I don’t know why and it’s stressful because I know him but I can’t remember what’s wrong or why I think it’s wrong or how I even know him.” He shrugged violently, wringing his hands. 

“...What do you mean, wrong?” Ranboo said hesitantly, “You don’t mean the, uh.” He gestured at his mouth in an imitation of fangs. Ghostbur shook his head, sitting up straighter.

“That’s the thing! I- I remember that. I remember the- the tusks. But he’s…” He paused, thinking. “Older? He looks older and sadder, and it’s not… right.” He huffed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “But that doesn’t matter. All I know is that he’s important to me, I’d trust him with my life, and protect him with it, too.” Another moment passed. The fire crackled. “It’s like... It’s like how when I saw you–” He met Tommy’s eye. “–when you were little. I didn’t know who you were, but I knew your name and that I was supposed to protect you.”

Tommy couldn’t remember that time all too well. He remembered being scared and hugging Ghostbur a lot, but it’s fuzzy. His muscle memory had been weird, too; he’d get excited and look over his shoulder for someone, but no one would ever be there. Dream would be there. Ghostbur had been quieter, then. He wasn’t as chatty, and would only appear at night, when Dream wasn’t around.

Shit, the other two were staring. Tommy straightened up, clearing his throat.

“I mean,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Be kinda fucked up if you didn’t. I was, what, six? Kinda fucked up if you didn’t want to protect me, I was all cute n’ shit.” Tommy wouldn’t consider himself calculating or necessarily clever by any means, but that move, the causal flippancy, completely paid off. The tension broke; Ranboo snorted, making Ghostbur chuckle, and Tommy allowed himself a small smile as well. No problems here, they’re all causal and relaxed now. He was doing so great at this socializing thing. He wouldn’t look too excited about it, but he definitely felt it. Once the laughter had died down, he hazarded another question. “What about you, Ranboo?”

“Mhm!”

“What’s your deal? Your story, as it were.” The older teen tilted his head at the question, sitting a little further forward, considering. He opened his mouth as if to speak. Closed it again. Held up a finger and grabbed his bag. Tommy exchanged a look with Ghostbur, eyebrows raised. After another few seconds, Ranboo fished that little book out of his pack, flipping through the earliest pages. “I- I didn’t mean literally, mate, what’s–”

“No, no, uh,” he started, pointing to a spot on the page, “I’ve got a really bad memory. No one really, uh, knows why? But my memory sucks. The book is meant to help with that? So, y’know, if I got lost again, I’d be able to find out my name and basic information and stuff.” Tommy didn’t like the implications of getting lost again. Ranboo read from the page, matter of fact. “‘Your name is Ranboo, you are half Enderman, half something else, you are from the East Quarter of the Northern Empire’s capital city. You have a last name but you don’t know how to write it. You are probably seventeen.’ That one gets changed a lot, look.” He turned the journal to show Tommy; the spot that showed his possible age has several numbers beside the current one crossed out - fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. “Every year, obviously. The, uh, the matrons at the orphanage didn’t give me a birthday, they just kind of assumed my age when they got me.” He took the journal back, flipping through another few pages. “‘Your friends are Niki, Crumb, Technoblade, Fundy, Ser Eret, and Captain Puffy. Find one of them if you are lost.’” 

Ghostbur perked up at those middle two names, studying Ranboo intently as he continued. 

“There’s, uh, there’s a little chart in here? For who I should find depending on where I’m found.” Ranboo chuckled, scanning further down the page. “Rest of it’s kinda boring? ‘You are allergic to water, you hate eye contact, your favorite food is Niki’s baked potatoes, and you are’…” He trailed off, laughing sheepishly. “Well. This part’s just about my current profession or circumstances. ‘Traveling with Technoblade’ is the current one.” Tommy had a feeling that this was not entirely true. “But, yeah! That’s the basic stuff. Otherwise, y’know... Got found outside the city when I was little, got taken in by some orphanage, started stealing things when I was, like, twelve. And now I’m here!” He laughed again, giving Tommy a painfully genuine smile. “Obviously there’s stuff in the middle of all that, but it’s not the basic stuff. Day to day and whatever.”

Ghostbur was still staring at Ranboo, like he was trying to figure the other out. Tommy still didn’t know what an Enderman was. He turned to ask.

“Wil?”

Ghostbur blinked a couple times, shaken out of his concentration. Maybe Tommy could ask later. But it’s too late now, he’d have to ask something.

“Yeah?”

“…Somethin’ on your mind?” The ghost looked conflicted, unsure if he wanted to answer the question. Tommy kept his tone light, not wanting to scare him off. Or make him do that blue thing again. “It’s cool if you want me to share first. You know how much crazy backstory I got. ‘m sure I could find something to talk about.”

“No, no…” Ghostbur said, shaking his head slowly, “I just… recognize those names. Fundy and Eret.” Ranboo hummed, two-toned eyes wide with curiosity. “I, uh. I didn’t know Eret got knighted.”

“Eret’s the one who found me!” Ranboo chirped, smiling, “Their training group found me in the woods during a lesson. I was… seven? Ish? With no memory except my name. And they brought me to Puffy who brought me to the orphanage. Eret couldn’t train me, they were already training Fundy and had their own stuff to work on, but they’d both visit me when I was younger.”

 Ghostbur was silent. After a moment, he excused himself and wandered away, drifting towards the treeline. Tommy pretended he didn’t see him scrub an arm over his face, and that he didn’t see the sleeve come away stained blue. He looked away.

“It’s kind of funny, y’know,” he said, giving Ranboo a crooked grin, “I can’t remember anything from before I was six, either.”

“…Huh.”

“I know, right?” He shrugged, looking at the fire. “Dream says it’s because stuff was super stressful back then? Like, I was too little to understand it, and I almost got kidnapped, so it’s probably better that I don’t remember? Which makes sense, I guess.” He shrugged again. “Kinda remember my dad? He was blond like me. N’ had a little beard type thing,” he said, gesturing at his chin, “Can’t remember shit about my mum. Dream said I had one.”

 “Techno caught me trying to steal his stuff,” Ranboo admitted. It caught Tommy off guard, making him laugh.

“And he didn’t kill you immediately?”

“I know! I thought I was dead.” The older teen grinned. “But I guess he recognized me from town or, y’know, kinda… understood? Because I was also an outsider. I’m weird, he’s weird, that kinda thing.” He relaxed a little. “Monster types gotta stick together.”

“But–” Tommy made a face, trying to process that. “–you’re not monsters?”

Ranboo scoffed. “Might as well be. Cursed, monsterborn, full monster, same difference. We’re scary, it’s all they see. You should hear the stuff they say about him in the city. The older kids at the orphanage told us he was the monster under the bed. Y’know, stay up past lights out and you’d get eaten kinda thing.”

“I think I remember living in the city,” Tommy said abruptly. He rubbed at his temple, making a face. Ranboo raised his eyebrows, gesturing for him to go on. “It’s… foggy? It’s all unclear, but I remember big, stone buildings with all these little flags hung between ‘em, and runnin’ around with someone. Y’know, bein’ a little kid and hiding n’ shit. I guess…” He laughed mournfully, shaking his head. “I guess I had friends? And people who cared about me?” He didn’t know who he was mourning. “Be kinda weird to play hide n’ seek or whatever by yourself. So I probably had friends.” Tommy knew Ranboo had to be staring at him. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He took the compass from his pocket, examining the glass surface. The needle was, as it was before, pointing towards the city. He turned it over in his hands, running a thumb over the engraved words on the back. 

Your Tubbo. 

The name tugged at something in Tommy’s memory, something he couldn’t place. His gaze didn’t leave the pewter, the words, as he spoke. “There was this time, when I was little.” Ranboo hummed. Good. He was still there. “Where a bee flew up to the tower and started checkin’ out all the flowers we had. And I remember getting all excited, because I knew that someone, another kid, would love this, and maybe I could tell them about it and we could watch the bee together, but.” Another desolate chuckle. “Who was I gonna tell? I was the only kid up there. And Ghostbur wasn’t visible all too often, and Dream certainly didn’t care.” He huffed, glancing up. The other boy was watching him, still careful. “I had that a lot. Of thinkin’ that someone would like something but not knowing who. ‘Specially didn’t work every time Dream reminded me that I got gave away or whatever.” 

Something moved in the woods behind Ranboo’s head. Tommy sat up a little straighter, squinting in the dark. The leaves rustled in the wind, but–

The moon briefly caught on something white. Porcelain. Tommy’s heart stopped. He looked harder and– there it was. The outline of a cloak, nearly identical to the color of the forest. It shifted, turned, just at the edge of the treeline. A white circle against a dark background, smile etched into the face. Dream.

Tommy stood quickly, his vision briefly going dark. He swayed and caught his balance, panic clawing at his throat. 

“Tommy?” He glanced down, meeting Ranboo’s eye for a half second. The other boy looked confused, worried. He looked back up. Dream was still there. He lifted a hand, beckoning, before heading further into the trees. “You alright?”

“Hold this for me,” he muttered, shoving whatever it was he was holding into Ranboo’s hands as he strode past, “I’ll be right back.”

It was quiet in the woods. Dream’s outline kept moving, never staying in one place too long. Conflicted emotions tore through Tommy’s mind as he followed - anger, frustration, rage. Relief. Fear. 

Why was he here? How was he here? How did Dream find him? He was going to be furious.

Branches pulled at his hair, his shirt, as he raced through the forest, trying to catch up. Dream was out of reach, he was always just out of reach. Tommy’s foot caught on a stray root, sending him stumbling forward as he tried to stay upright. He was in a clearing. 

The moon was bright overhead, Dream’s mask made luminescent. Tommy could barely breathe. It was the running, that’s why. He was running. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He took a step forward.

“Hello.”

Pure relief washed over Tommy. His shoulders slumped, his posture relaxed, all at one word. It took him by surprise, that relief, and he didn’t hate it.

“Hey, Dream,” he said, voice coming out weak. Dream took a few steps closer.

“Wanna tell me why you’re out here?

That relief is immediately replaced with cold dread, chilling him from the inside out. Gods. He fucked up. Everything was suddenly too much – the insects chirping, the wind against his skin, the way the air was slightly humid, his awareness of how Dream’s cloak moved. His breath caught, heart hammering in his chest. 

“What do you mean?” he managed, voice strained. He laughed, perhaps a little too loudly, glancing around for a way out. Fuck, shit, why couldn’t he move?

“Tommy.” Dream kept just out of arm’s reach, slowly starting to circle him. The disappointment radiated off of him in waves. “We talked about this. That you couldn’t leave until you were older. Until you could prove you were mature and could control your powers.”

“I- I can! And I’m plenty m–” he protested, but Dream was already shaking his head.

“I saw the dam, Tommy. All that charred wood.” Fuck, fuck, no. “And, really, you’re mature?” Dream scoffed. “Please. You immediately trusted the first people you met. Looks like you really know how to choose ‘em.” He stopped, standing in front of Tommy once again. “A thief and a killer. Exactly the types I warned you about.”

A killer? No, no, Dream had to be lying. He started to shake his head, but Dream held up a finger.

“What makes you think they won’t take your compass and run? Or kill you for it? It’s probably worth a good deal. Imagine the price they could get for it.” Tommy clutched at the compass around his neck, hand shaking.

“You- you’re lying, you have to be, Techno wouldn’t– he said he–” Dream cut him off with a sharp laugh.

“Wouldn’t he? You know nothing about him.” He rocked on his heels, cloak swishing softly. “Did he tell you about his brothers?” Tommy nodded, just once. “And what did he tell you?”

“That- that he was too late to save them. B-Before they died.” Dream laughed again, louder, meaner.

“And you actually believed him? Gods, you’re more gullible than I thought.” He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his hood back in the process. “I know what really happened. It was right before we left the city. They didn’t just die, Tommy. He killed them.”

No. No. Tommy took a half step back, shaking his head. But Ranboo had said– no, that was just a rumor, it couldn’t be– Dream took a half step forward.

“He killed them. That’s why he’s cursed. They never even recovered the youngest prince’s body, that’s how little of him was left. An act like that would turn you into a monster immediately. I can’t believe that you’d just trust him, that you’d trust both of them so fast. I’ve seen the posters. That thief is the most wanted man in the kingdom. He’d make off with your compass before you could even blink.” No. No, something was wrong here. Something was wrong. He didn’t– fuck, he couldn’t think.

“No, that’s– Ranboo’s my friend, he wouldn’t–”

“He would, Tommy. You think he’s your friend? Try giving him the compass, see how quickly he leaves.” Another laugh, breathed through the nose. “‘Friend.’ Gods, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.” Shame hit Tommy like a landslide; he looked away, withering in place. “As if someone else would be patient enough to deal with your shit. As if you could be interesting enough to stay with. They’re only there to hurt you. Both of them.” Dream took another step, another, another, until he was right in front of him. He placed a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the same way he had that morning. Fuck. That was only this morning. It took all of Tommy’s will to not flinch. “They’re going to leave, Tommy,” he said gently, “They’re going to hurt you. You know why I made those rules. To protect you. It’s always been to protect you. I don’t want you getting hurt.” Tommy nodded slowly.

“I- I know.” 

Dream hummed, content. “Come home, then. We can forget all of this ever happened. It’ll all have been a terrible nightmare, and we’ll be able to put it behind us.” Tommy swallowed, nodding again. 

“I’d have to get my things.”

“I’ll make a distraction if you need.” He took a deep, shaking breath, letting it out slowly. A nightmare. Yeah, that would… that would make sense. Almost drowning, it was only a nightmare. At least Dream wasn’t mad, right? He let go of the compass, hand drifting to his pocket. It was empty. Why was it empty?

The second compass.

That’s it. That’s what was wrong. He must have given the second compass to Ranboo in order to follow Dream. He never told him about the compass around his neck. Dream doesn’t know about the second compass. He was lying, he had been lying the entire time, he didn’t know. Dream turned and put his hood back up, about to go back into the camp.

“Actually,” Tommy said, surprised at how strong his voice was. Dream stopped.

“Hm?”

“I want to stay with them.”

A beat.

“...Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” There was that confidence. He could do this. He could do this.

“You want… to stay with them.” Doubt dripped from Dream’s every word.

“You’re fuckin’ lying, man.” Momentum. He had to keep building momentum. “Every single thing you’ve said, I don’t believe you, you’re fuckin’ lying!”

“And what if I’m not? What if they rob you blind, what will you do then? Come on, Tommy. We don’t have to do this.” He was getting impatient.

“I’m going to stay with them,” Tommy said firmly, ignoring the way his palms were starting to burn, “I’m staying with them, Dream. I can’t go back yet.” 

“Even if all they want is to hurt you?” Dream’s composure was breaking.

“How do I know,” Tommy growled, “that you haven’t been lying to me my entire life. Tell me, Dream. Why. Should I. Believe you?”

“Fine!” Dream said, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, stay with them! But when they leave, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He made a dismissive motion with his hand. “You know where to find me.” Oh, Tommy knew. Rage bubbled in his chest.

“Fine!” he shouted, “I will! I will stay with them!”

Dream tsked at him. The rage grew, threatening to boil over. His mentor spared him one last glance, before turning and walking out of the clearing. Tommy didn’t even bother to watch him go. 

He couldn’t contain the anger any longer, punching the nearest tree with a shout. The bark split the skin on his knuckles, but the fist-shaped burn was payback enough. He breathed hard, every part of him conflicted and scared and fucking pissed. How dare Dream think he could lie like that. Gods, that bastard really fucking tried, huh. Taking a deep breath, Tommy allowed himself to focus, the skin on his knuckles healing a moment later. He wiped the blood off on his pants, and trudged back to camp.

Ghostbur had returned by the time he got back, and was chatting amiably with Ranboo.

“Tommy!” he called, happy as fucking always, “You’ll never believe the stories Ranboo’s been–”

“Not in the mood for it, Wil.” Tommy dumped the few twigs he’d collected on the walk there into the flames, stoking them higher with nothing but his bare hands. The fire roared, before settling down into something more reasonable.

“Is everything alright?” Ranboo asked hesitantly. Tommy didn’t even look at him, getting the bedroll from his pack and laying it out beside the fire.

“Fuckin’ peachy,” he snarled, laying down, “I’m going to sleep now. Don’t wake me up.”

To his luck, they didn’t. The bedroll was mostly dry. Tommy’s anger fizzled out until he was just... tired. Tired, frustrated, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He fell asleep, and tried not to think about anything, anything Dream had told him.

Chop.

Tommy's hair glowed.

Chop. 

He had abilities related to fire.

Chop.

His companion was a ghost.

Chop. 

The ghost's name was Ghostbur, but Tommy called him Wil.

Chop.

He didn't remember his family very well.

Chop.

He was raised by a sorcerer.

Chop.

The sorcerer always wore a cloak and mask.

Chop.

His name was Dream.

Chop. 

Technoblade straightened up, gathering the kindling into a bundle. He couldn’t deny it any longer. He returned the hatchet to its place on his belt. He had to face the facts. He picked up the bundle of sticks, and started heading back to their camp. Tommy was his youngest brother.

That’s all there was to it. That’s all there ever would be to it. His youngest brother was alive and was returning to the city. He had done it. He’d completed his quest. He could stop being a selfish asshole and ascend to the throne. 

Ten years. Ten years, and he’d only been a few hours walk outside of the city. 

Techno let his forehead thunk against the side of a tree, a low, rumbling sigh leaving him. Fuck. He couldn’t keep beating himself up about this. He was fourteen. What could he have done? 

Could have put more pressure on the wound, said the traitorous little thoughts in his head, Could have called for help. Or kept him awake longer.

“It was too late,” he muttered, words mangled around his tusks, “I couldn’t have stopped it.” 

The castle staff had scrubbed the floorboards until the bloodstain was gone. The door was locked, and hadn’t been opened since. Tubbo didn’t wake up until after the funeral. It had been three days. The first searches for Tommy had begun shortly after. Phil had forbade Techno from going, and Techno hated him for it. He’d find Tommy, one day. He swore it to himself. He’d find Tommy, and he’d fucking kill the bastard who killed Wilbur.

He knew that bastard’s name now. He knew what he looked like, and where he lived. If they had to bring Tommy back to the tower, so be it, but Techno would stay there until Dream got back. He’d stay there, and he’d kill Dream, and he’d bring Tommy back to the castle. Not like the kid would go with him right now, not yet, but they’d figure it out. 

Wilbur.

Techno wouldn’t get his hopes up. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. If Tommy was serious, if he could actually see Wilbur’s ghost… Techno didn’t know what he’d do. Maybe the ghost just… didn’t want to see him. It would make sense. He wouldn’t want to see himself, either. And it would probably make him sad, more than anything. To see the ghost of your older brother who’s been dead for ten goddamn years. He should be king right now. He should have taken the throne four years ago. His reign would have been peaceful, like Phil’s still was, and the people would have loved him. They already had loved him. They’d thought him smart and brave and kind.

Wilbur had begged to go on the quest for the flower. He was eighteen, he had to prove himself. Phil had refused, initially, but eventually let him go. Techno insisted on going, too, but he was only eleven. He could barely pick up a sword, much less lead an expedition. Wilbur had ruffled his hair and told him he’d be back before Techno could miss him. He had been a hero.

What had Techno been, in comparison. Guilty, maybe. Rude, antisocial, despondent. Rebellious in the wrong ways. Reckless, irresponsible. Cursed. He had learned to live with it. 

The glow of the fire was still a little ways off. Techno trudged forward, thoughts still rattling around in his head. He should be happy. He should be happy that he found the one person he had been searching for. He should be happy. Instead, all he felt was that all-consuming guilt. That crushing hollowness.

A voice. Brash, defiant tone.

“You’re fuckin’ lying, man. Every single thing you’ve said, I don’t believe you, you’re fuckin’ lying!”

A second voice. An even, condescending tenor.

“And what if I’m not?”

Techno’s heart stopped. He knew that voice. It had haunted his every waking moment for a year, and every nightmare for the next nine. He had to breathe. Silently, he crept in the direction of the voices. They were arguing, Techno knew that much, but the words didn’t really mean anything. It was all static to him, the overlapping thoughts of the last ten years and the sounds of Tommy and–  and Dream, this was Dream, he heard Tommy say it, this was him – arguing all melding into a buzz. His breathing was too loud. He stepped on a branch, didn’t he? Surely, they’d hear him.

He stopped behind a tree some distance away, listening. Dream was getting frustrated. Tommy was angry. He looked out from behind the tree, watching the scene. Dream had a long, forest green cloak on, the hood up. From this angle, Techno couldn’t see his face, but his gestures said all Techno needed to know. Whatever cool collectedness he was trying to project was fading quickly. Tommy, on the other hand, looked furious. There was a rage in his posture, and his hands, balled into fists, were glowing. He growled something, voice low and dangerous, and that appeared to be the last straw.

“Fine!” Dream said, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, stay with them! But when they leave, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He sighed, making a quick, dismissive motion. His words were full of venom, sharp enough to make Techno wince. “You’ll know where to find me. I’ll be waiting.” 

“Fine!” Tommy shouted back, “I will. I will stay with them!”

Dream tsked; Techno could hear the eyeroll in his tone. Then, he turned. He turned, cloak swishing, and looked directly at Technoblade. Walked directly towards towards him. 

Techno covered his mouth, pressing his back to the tree. No. This can’t be happening. He waited. He waited for Dream to brush past him. To pull out a sword and pin him to the tree. Stab him like he stabbed Wilbur, leave him to bleed out in the middle of the woods. What was one more near death experience? He couldn’t breathe.

If things hadn’t been crashing around him before, they were now. Of course. Of course it was Tommy. Techno should have known from the moment he saw him. He should have known from the moment he heard Wilbur’s voice in that valley. He should have known while they were walking. He should have fucking accepted it, is what he should have done. 

It had taken fucking years, years, for Techno to not see that mask when he closed his eyes. Forget the voice haunting him, the mask was what stuck. The mask, the last thing he saw before his brothers were taken from him. That crude, etched-in smile, mocking him every step of the way. That’s the face that made him a monster. That’s the mask that made his life hell. He’d almost gotten over it. Ten fucking years, and he’d almost forgotten. And now, now– 

What would he tell Phil. What would he tell Tubbo? Would he even live that long? Would he see morning? Probably not. Probably not! Again! Near death experience!

But Dream never walked past him. Distantly, the echo of a chuckle on the breeze, and the smell of smoke. Tommy shouted in rage and stomped away. The bark of the tree scraped Techno’s back as he sank to the ground, his hand shaking with the effort to keep himself quiet. He tasted iron.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but it was getting dark. The fire wouldn’t be able to keep going much longer if he stayed here. He’d get lost. Ranboo and Tommy could get hurt. He had to get up. His arm relaxed, the muscles sore from tension. He’d have imprints from the bark on his back. Maybe even a new scar.

His hair snagged in a knot in the bark as he stood, and pain shot up his arm as he steadied himself against the trunk. He looked at his hand, disconnected. Two puncture marks, a smear of blood. Techno licked his lips. His chin was probably covered in it. He’d have to wash up before heading back to camp.

If his feet dragged on the way back, no one was around to see it. If the water from the stream couldn’t shock him awake, maybe a good night’s rest would. If he was quiet when he returned, and dismissive when asked, it was in character. If he could see the vague outline of his older brother as he fell asleep, it was a dream. And if he dreamed?

It was a nightmare.

The morning came uneventfully. Techno woke as the sun rose, the sky turning from orange to pink to day-bright blue. It was time to get moving. Today was the festival, after all.

“Alright, get up,” he said, nudging Ranboo with his foot. The kid groaned in complaint, rubbing his eyes, but started to sit up. Techno picked up a fallen branch, poking Tommy in the side. The boy swatted at it, rolling away. Techno poked him again. “You too.”

They packed quickly, the fire long extinguished by the morning dew. Travel rations would have to do for breakfast.

“We’re not too far from the city,” he said, gathering the last of his things. The boys looked groggy, but ready to leave. “Let’s go.”

Nearly home, he reminded himself, as they made their way through the forest. It was a beautiful day, clear, excellent for a celebration. 

Excellent for a homecoming. 

They were nearly home.

Chapter Text

Hood up, head down, posture bad. Stick behind Techno and don’t look at anyone. Don’t meet the guards’ eyes. Don’t meet anyone’s eyes, actually, that would be preferred. Techno could get them through easy, but Ranboo couldn’t help but worry. Someone could look at him too closely. Someone could pull down his hood. Tommy could say his name. That would be a disaster.

He was starting to freak out. Only a little.

Tommy stared at the buildings with wide eyes, not bothering to hide his wonder. He looked this way and that, at the kids skipping rope, and the fiddlers playing music in the square, and the baker with the fresh bread exiting her shop, and at the mosaics lining the walls near the temple in the corner. He kept looking to where Ranboo assumed Ghostbur was floating, asking questions under his breath. Ranboo couldn’t hear the answers, but they were clearly enough for Tommy. Techno huffed and rolled his eyes, eventually stopping at the fountain in the center of the square.

“Kid,” he said, only giving Ranboo a sidelong glance, “Wanna talk to you. Alone.”

Uh oh.

“About what?” he replied, trying to keep the nervous laugh out of his voice.

“Yeah, about what?” Tommy crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one hip. “Why’s it so important you’re alone?” Techno shot him a dirty look; Tommy sneered back.

“It’s none of your business.” He turned back to Ranboo, who was definitely not slightly freaking out. “It’s nothin' bad. Don’t gimme that look. You’re not in trouble.” Oh. Oh! Good. Ranboo let out the breath he was definitely not holding, making Techno chuckle. He lightly tapped his knuckles against Ranboo’s shoulder, nodding towards an alcove off to the side. “Over there, it’ll be quick.”

“And now you’re just stealing him?” Tommy protested, making a face.

“We’ll only be gone for a moment,” Ranboo said, nerves still on alert. He glanced at the space beside Tommy. “Will you two, uh, be alright?” Tommy grumbled to himself, eventually nodding. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, wonder barely concealed by his fake surliness. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“We’ll be right back! Just give us a moment.” Ranboo gave him one last smile, before turning to follow Techno. The alcove was between to buildings, mostly hidden from the rest of the square. It was cooler, out of the direct summer sun, and if he didn’t know better, Ranboo would almost be intimidated by the slightly hulking figure of Technoblade in his hood, standing in the shadows. No, he was intimidated for other reasons. “So, uh.” He wrang his hands, looking everywhere but Techno’s face. The stolen compass weighed heavy in his pocket. “What’s up?”

“I’m goin’ back to the castle. Got preparations to make. Which means I won’t be able to keep you two out of trouble.” Oh. Huh. Not what Ranboo was expecting. “So, what I’m sayin’ is, stay safe, and keep him–” He motioned out at the square with his chin. “–safe, too. I’ll try to find you after the ceremony. We can meet back here or somethin’.”

“Wow, Techno, it almost sounds like you’re gonna be worried about us.” Techno snorted quietly, rolling his eyes again. Good! Good, situation defused. No problem, not one. “ But, uh– of course. I’ll do my best. Keep my head down and not steal anything.”

“You’d better not, I saw at least four wanted posters for some thief called Rainbow on the way here.” Ranboo tensed, eyes wide. He needed to hand over the compass. “I heard he’s real dangerous. Most wanted man in the kingdom, right now, he stole somethin’ real important.” Techno huffed, leaning out enough so that he could see Tommy. Ranboo leaned out, too; Tommy was still where they left him, a child standing on the bench beside him trying to braid a flower into his slightly too-short hair. “Not that you can exactly help it. He’s still got the thing hostage.”

Ranboo was silent. Techno turned back to him, raising an eyebrow.

“A-about that.” Techno was now raising both eyebrows, looking at Ranboo over the rims of his wireframe glasses. The teen fidgeted, avoiding his gaze. He reached into his pocket, removing the compass he had stolen less than thirty-six hours before. He heard Techno sharply breathe in, still not looking at him. “He, uh. He gave it back? He didn’t mean to. But he gave it back. And– and, y’know, I didn’t think– he just sort of– gave it to me? By accident?” Techno was still giving him that skeptical look. “And– I mean, I wasn’t gonna– I wasn’t just gonna– we still had to finish his quest, right? I- I’m rambling, ignore all this, just–” He thrust his hand out, holding the compass for Techno to take. “I- I mean, we haven’t found the other one, but it’s not like– I mean, we both knew that I didn’t really– and I’m such a terrible liar, but–”

Techno plucked the compass from his shaking hand, examining it. The pewter shined a dull purple-blue. The glass was unscratched. The needle pointed towards the castle, slowly moving now that they were closer to the younger prince’s location. He took a deep breath, nodding and sighing. He tucked the compass into a pocket, getting Ranboo’s attention again.

“I know you were just tryin’ to get outta trouble.” Gods, Ranboo was that bad of a liar. He really needed to work on that. “Again. I’m not mad. I was disappointed, but now I’m not. ‘M proud of you, kid. Doin’ the right thing.” Ranboo laughed weakly, and Techno put a solid hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna bring this back to Tubbo. Kid’s probably worried sick. And–” Techno breathed out a chuckle. “–you fulfilled the fake promise anyway. Haven’t seen the compass yet, but…” He glanced towards the square again. “Well. You saw what happened in the cave.”

It took Ranboo a second to process his words. He saw what happened in the cave, alright. The fire powers, the glowing hair, the way they were both perfectly dry when he let go of Ranboo’s hand.

“He can heal, too.”

“Huh. Never knew that.” His hand dropped from Ranboo’s shoulder. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“How did you figure it out?” Ranboo couldn’t stop himself, covering his mouth with a hand a moment later. “I- I mean–” Techno held up a hand, shaking his head.

“I knew from the moment I saw him. Just refused to let myself know.” He cleared his throat, ignoring the teen’s wide-eyed stare. “Aaaanyway,” he said, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “Good talk. Keep yourself safe, and keep him safe, too. I’ll let Phil and the guards know you’re no longer wanted for treason.” Ranboo started at that, shocked. Techno laughed, the sound higher and lighter than his voice normally was. “Don’t worry about it, your misspelled name will by cleared by morning. I’ll meet you out by this fountain after the ceremony at ten.” He started to leave, crossing into the sunlight again. He paused, glancing back. “And, Ranboo?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Techno walked back into the square, towards the fountain. Ranboo watched him for a second, stunned, and hurried to catch up. They approached as Tommy finished tying a ribbon at the end of a child’s finished braid; the kid who had been braiding his hair earlier clapped her small hands, giving him a sunny grin. She taught him well. Both kids scampered off, waving over their shoulders as Ranboo and Techno walked up. Tommy waved back, smiling down at the flower in his hands. He looked up, standing as they got to the fountain.

“Everything good?”

“Just peachy,” Techno said, glancing back to Ranboo for confirmation, “I have to go back to the castle for festival preparations. I’ll meet you here later tonight, after the lantern ceremony is over. Got it?” Tommy nodded, and Techno hummed. “Great. Don’t get arrested. I’m not responsible for you if you do.” Ranboo snorted; he’d heard that countless times. Techno never meant it. “Alright. Bye.”

And as abruptly as he did most everything else, Techno turned and walked off. He vanished into the crowd, leaving Ranboo and Tommy standing there.

“What now, big man?” Tommy asked after a moment, the flower still braided into the side of his hair. It was impressive. “When’s the lanterns? Ghostbur’s getting anxious.” Ranboo glanced at Ghostbur, now semi-visible, who made a face. Not an anxious one, that’s for sure.

“Everyone usually heads out by eight, when the sun’s going down.” It was barely noon. They had time. Tommy frowned. “But!” Ranboo said, “I can give you a tour. Show you the sights. Maybe we’ll run into some of my friends. I mean, it’s a festival day. There’s always something to do.”

“Then lead the way, my friend.” Tommy grinned at him, and even through his lingering anxiety, Ranboo grinned back.

Now all he had to do was remember what the best sights were.

“It is with great honor– It is with– great honor that I announce– fuck.” Tubbo huffed in frustration, letting his forehead rest against the balcony door frame. He had been at this since sunrise. It was half past noon. He’d read the words from the cards. He’d memorized them. He knew them, but he couldn’t say them. That would make them real. It was a nice day, warm breeze, not too hot. Perfect for a festival. Perfect for sailing. Maybe he could get one of those boats and sail off. He wasn’t too bad at sailing! It might be fun. Tubbo tapped his head against the frame with every word. “It. Is. With. Great. Honor. That. I. Announce. That. Once. I–”

“You’re gonna give yourself a headache if you keep doin’ that, y’know.” 

Tubbo perked up, turning around.

“Techno.”

He was back. He was back. He wasn’t dead. Tubbo wouldn’t admit to catastrophizing, he hadn’t been catastrophizing, what do you mean? He was perfectly fine, and relieved a perfectly normal amount to see his older brother alive and not dead right now. Technoblade was leaning against the door to Tubbo’s rooms, arms crossed, posture perfectly casual for how stressed the younger felt. There was definitely something wrong with Techno, though, little things that Tubbo couldn’t ignore. One of his hands was bandaged. There was blood in his tusks, around the points. His glasses were different than the ones he left in yesterday. Techno pushed off the wall, pulling something from his pocket with his non-bandaged hand.

“Catch.”

He tossed it his way, the grey-blue-purple thing catching in the light. Tubbo caught it, taking a look.

“You found it?” It was his compass, the one that pointed to him. Hadn’t- hadn’t it been stolen just yesterday morning? Hadn’t it been taken by the most notorious thief in the land? And Techno just… got it back? “How?”

Techno made a face, considering his answer. 

“You want the real answer, or do you want me to make something up?” Tubbo laughed, surprising himself. 

“Make something up.”

“Alright, uh… Hm.” Techno crossed the room, taking a seat on the desk. “So, I chased him through the city, right? And he was in the thieves’ guild, so he went into their safehouses and escaped through the sewers. But, since I’m in the mercenaries’ guild, they let me through.” Well. Techno was in the mercenaries’ guild. Maybe he could be telling the truth. “He escaped out of the city that way, and I chased him all the way to this abandoned quarry in the middle of the woods. The cliff was covered in ivy, and he climbed up the side, so I had to climb after him. And when we got to the top, we found a house.” Techno started to get into it, gesturing with his hands. “And inside the house, there was this kid, right? Sorcerer’s apprentice, and he steals the compass away from the thief and runs away.” Tubbo gave him a skeptical look, but Techno kept going. “The apprentice kid didn’t run or anythin', nah, he took a magic broomstick from the wall and flew off, so me and the thief both had to chase him. And for some reason, he went to Niki’s, of all places.” Tubbo laughed; Techno leaned forward, eyes growing serious. “But here’s where it gets intense. The crazy part of the story. We get into Niki’s, and the sorcerer kid opens up a hole in the wall and there’s this tunnel. You heard about the flood yesterday, right?”

“I think so? Phil mentioned it.”

“I was there,” Techno said, shifting into spooky storyteller mode, “We got into where the dam is, and the sorcerer kid burned the gate, and we all wound up in a caved-in tunnel. I saw my life flashin' before my eyes, but with a little quick thinkin', I was able to use my super strength to move the rocks and get us all out of there. And the thief was so relieved that he just gave me the compass back. Owes me his life, now. The sorcerer kid went home at that point. And now I’m here.” He sat back, done with his tale. Tubbo laughed; his anxiety was definitely lifted, at least about the compass. “Would you believe me if I said it was all true?”

“Absolutely not.” His older brother grinned; it was the most relaxed Tubbo had seen him in forever. Years, maybe. The bandaged hand and dried blood on his tusks indicated that something wasn’t entirely right, that there could be other things he was stressed out about, but at this very moment, Technoblade was the picture of casual princeliness. “How did you really do it?”

“He gave it back. That’s it.” Techno adjusted his glasses, before glancing at his nails, affecting disinterest. “He’s a good kid. I think you’d be friends.”

Tubbo blinked, trying to process the statement. He’d be friends… with the guy who stole one of the most prized artifacts in the country. Techno did know the guy, maybe it would make sense?

“...Weren’t you the one who brought him into the castle in the first place?”

“Yep.” Techno snorted, almost fond. “But, y’know. The kid’s sorry and won’t do it again.” Kid. He kept saying kid. Tubbo didn’t know what he’d do with that information, but he filed it away nonetheless. Techno hopped off the desk, dusting himself off and glancing towards the door. “I gotta tell Phil that the search is off. And for no one to arrest him. Y’know, the usual.”

“Can I go with you?” Tubbo blurted, before freezing in place. Techno was going to think he was such a bother now. Always wanting to tag along, stupid little brother things. He was supposed to be collected, he was going to be king. “I- I mean, I don’t have to, but–”

“Don’t see why not.” He blinked. Techno stretched, cracked his neck, and headed for the door. He turned back to Tubbo, one eyebrow raised. “You comin’?”

“R-right! Yes!” Tubbo jumped up quickly, hurrying to follow his brother into the hall. Techno snorted quietly, casual as he strolled. Sunlight streamed through the high windows; outside, the sea glittered. He still wanted to run. He’d want to run either way. He wouldn’t have to take the throne for another, what, ten years? Fifteen years? Ten to fifteen years of learning to rule, of being trapped in stuffy room with people taking notes, watching his every move, what a nightmare. He paused at a window, staring at the ocean. It would be so easy. Beside him, Techno hummed, snapping him out of his thoughts. He sighed shakily, continuing to walk. “Sorry,” he said, “Lot of things on my mind.”

“Big day,” Techno agreed, sticking his hands in his pockets, “Big announcement.”

“Big announcement.” Was this how Techno felt? Was this why he hadn’t accepted the crown? The pressure of it all, the stress. Maybe that nonsense he’d said about taking the throne after, what, his revenge quest was over? Maybe that was the way to go. Maybe he was right. He took a deep breath. “Techno, I don’t think I can–”

“Take the crown?” he interrupted, arching an eyebrow, “Of course you can’t. You’re sixteen. You’ve got a long way to go.”

“But, the announcement–”

“Tubbo.” He stopped, turning to face him. Tubbo didn’t want to meet his eye. “Look, I–” Techno chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna give you false hope, alright?”

“...Alright?” Tubbo did not know where he was going with this.

“So–” Techno made a face, like he was struggling to find the words. “What I’m tryin’ to say is–” He huffed, pushing up his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m not– makin’ any promises. I don’t wanna make a promise I can’t keep. But what I’m sayin’ is… you might not. Have to worry about this for too long.” Tubbo frowned. What? Might not have to– Techno kept going. “And- and even if you did.” Another chuckle. “You’d be great at it. You know that, right?”

“What?”

“You’d be great, kid.” Without warning, Techno pulled him in for a side hug, ruffling his hair. Tubbo yelped, but didn’t pull away. It was… nice. The reassurance. Techno squeezed him closer for a half-second. Acknowledgement. He remembered that night better than Tubbo ever would, but here they were. They were in it together. Tubbo squeezed back, and Techno let him go. “Don’t sweat it too hard, is all I’m sayin’,” he said. He gave Tubbo a crooked grin, and Tubbo almost believed him. Techno nodded down the hall. “C’mon. I bet Phil’s waitin’ for us.”

Phil wasn’t waiting for them, not really. He was in his office, though, which Tubbo considered a miracle. Being the king must be hectic enough, not to mention it being one of the most important celebrations in the kingdom. They entered the room just as a messenger was leaving, and there, rubbing his eyes in pure planning stress, was Phil. Would Tubbo look like that someday? That stressed, that tired? Gods, he could barely think past tonight, he couldn’t even start to imagine ruling for as long as Phil had. Techno coughed awkwardly; Phil startled, looking up sharply.

“Oh, shit–” He stood quickly, shuffling the scattered papers on his desk into a more neat pile. Actually, yeah, Tubbo could see himself being like this. A bit of a disaster, but trying to appear put together. That was a bit of a trend, Tubbo was noticing, with his family. People who were doing their best but were disasters underneath. “Techno– you’re back.”

“I, uh–” Techno cleared his throat, glancing around briefly and shifting in place. “Yeah. I’m back. I–” He coughed again, unable to meet Phil’s eye. “I caught the, uh. The guy who stole the compass.” To back him up, Tubbo held up the compass. Phil was speechless, a look of momentary conflict passing over his face. “Got it back. So you can, y’know. Tell the guards that it’s under control and the compass is back. So there’s no need to, uh. Go after him anymore.”

Phil looked from Techno to the papers on his desk to the compass in Tubbo’s hand, and back to his eldest son.

“Techno…” he said slowly, “Are you… sure? Are you sure it’s a good idea to let him run around like that?”

“Yes.” Tubbo hadn’t heard Techno ever say anything with more conviction. “I’m sure.”

“He… he stole something that could have gotten Tubbo killed. That’s very nearly treason.” Phil met Tubbo’s eye, looking for confirmation, before glancing back to Techno. “...You know that, right?”

“I– yes. Yes, I know.” Techno made a sound in frustration and raked his good hand through his hair, visibly holding himself back from fidgeting. Tubbo knew his tells by this point: when he was nervous, when he was lying, when he was telling the truth. And right now? “He’s– he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t thinking of long term consequences.” He cracked his knuckles one at a time, wincing as pressure was put on his palm. The injury was on his palm, whatever it was. “He’s a good kid. Doesn’t deserve to d– to get locked up.” The punishment for treason was much higher than that. They all knew it. “The thing’s returned. No harm done. He’s a good kid.”

It was the truth. 

After a moment, Philza sighed, nodding.

“Alright,” he said, scrawling something on a stray piece of paper, “I’ll get the word out.” 

“Thank you.” Tubbo turned to leave, but Techno didn’t move. He stayed in place, still wringing his hands, shifting back and forth on his feet. He glanced from Phil to Tubbo and back to their father. “Uh.” Phil raised an eyebrow. He must have a lot to do. Preparations to make. Tubbo had preparations to make, too. “Can…” Techno started, hesitant, “Can I talk to you?”

Phil’s eyes widened and he started to stand; Tubbo knew when he wasn’t supposed to be part of a conversation. He excused himself quietly, letting himself breathe once he was back in the hall. Techno’s anxiety could be infectious; he hadn’t even realized. The hallway stretched out in front of Tubbo. Behind the door, muffled conversation.

Maybe he could spend the day in town. Sneak out and forget about his troubles until later. He wasn’t needed anywhere until six. That was, what, five hours of free time? They wouldn’t miss him too badly. 

With a decisive nod, Tubbo started back to his quarters. It was a day of celebration. He was going to celebrate, damn it. He was going to be some normal kid. He was going to let himself have fun. He could go back to being a prince at six. For now? He was just going to be a kid.

The city was everything Tommy had wanted to see and more. It looked how he remembered it, the vague images from his memory made real. Stone walls, towers, a blue sky, little flags hanging between the buildings and over the streets. Everything is cornflower and azure and yellow and white and stone-tan and, shit, Tommy had thought the tavern was amazing? It was nothing compared to the city. Everything was alive with movement and color and sound and people, fucking people, there were people and they were celebrating and Tommy wanted nothing more than to celebrate with them. He had never wanted anything more, he had never known it before but this, this was what he had been wanting. This was life. 

Ranboo led him and Ghostbur through the city, occasionally ducking into alleyways to avoid any people in pale blue uniforms.

“Guards,” he explained the first time, checking that the coast was clear, his grin apologetic, “Don’t want to take my chances with the ones I don’t know, y’know?” Tommy did not, but nodded anyway.

The air here was different. The sunlight was warmer, the shadows cooler, the colors brighter and the sounds louder. Tommy’s wonder was barely concealed, his eyes wide as they walked. He was staring at every little thing that caught his eyes – a mosaic here, a fountain there, a particularly pretty basket of flowers hanging above a door, an outdoor demonstration being given by a glassblower. Ghostbur was nearly the same, his eyes sparkling with delight at everything he recognized. He pointed them out to Tommy, voice clear among the city chatter.

“That bakery, that was my favorite and– oh! That house, I always wanted to live in that house, I never understood why my dad said I couldn’t, but, you know, that’s being a child for you, isn’t it? I understood as I got older, of course, but when I was, what, seven? That was the picture of perfect living. We might see him, you know. If we run into him, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

Ranboo had ducked into another alleyway, a guard coming around a corner as they were approaching a stall. This one appeared to be handing out pamphlets about today’s celebrations. Tommy took one, barely looking at the cover, absentmindedly skimming the text inside. Ten year anniversary, loss of life, continued hope, celebration of life and memory, maybe one day the youngest prince would find his way home. It seemed a little over the top, in Tommy’s opinion, but the story seemed to be selling well enough. Techno had mentioned having a little brother who had gone missing. He was convinced they’d never find him. Whoever wrote this pamphlet clearly did. There was an illustration inside the pamphlet, an illustration of the royals, but Tommy barely paid it any mind. He gave the stallkeeper a copper piece, putting the pamphlet in his pocket as Ranboo returned.

His trinkets from the day started accumulating: a colorful marble from the glassblower’s stand, a button in the shape of a sun from the jewelry smith, a dark green bandana with a bee embroidered in the corner from the tailor’s shop, a small phial of glowing, golden nectar from the apothecary’s stall, said to be distilled from the petals of a Sundrop flower.

“She wasn’t lying,” Ghostbur said, as Tommy turned the corked bottle over in his hand. There was something familiar about it, Tommy couldn’t place why. They had circled back to the bakery Ghostbur had mentioned being his favorite. Ranboo had run in to grab them something; they were waiting in an archway a few doors down. Ghostbur tapped the glass with a finger. “I was there when we found the Sundrop. Not a Sundrop, the Sundrop. It can heal any ailment, I saw it happen. The petals can be brewed into a broth, and we were able to save the seeds to replant later.” He smiled at the phial fondly, sighing. “It was winter, I think. My mum and brother got sick, so I went out and found it.” 

The phial was barely the size of Tommy’s palm, sending light glittering across his skin. It had been pricy, but Ghostbur had insisted he buy it. Ghostbur had been a knight, hadn’t he? He must have been important, for him to go out and find some super important magic flower to save his family.

“Did it work?” Tommy asked, slipping the phial into a safe pocket in his bag.

“Yes,” Ghostbur says without hesitating, “It cured my brother immediately.”

“And your mum?” The ghost frowned, thinking for a moment.

“I… I don’t know.” Tommy shifted awkwardly, looking towards the bakery. Where was Ranboo? He should be back by now.

Beside him, Ghostbur gasped, grabbing his sleeve.

“Tommy, look!” Tommy followed where Ghostbur was pointing; on the other side of the street, a young man with fox ears was chatting with a group of off-duty guards. “It’s Fundy!”

The young man - Fundy, apparently – was wearing a different uniform from the other guards. His jacket was black instead of pale blue, and he had a black cap to match. The rest of the group – a woman with ram horns and a ponytail of curly white hair, a tall person wearing tinted glasses, and a man with greenish scales under his dark eyes – were all in royal standard. Tommy wondered what that meant.

“Who?”

“My page, Fundy! One of the people Ranboo was talking about!” Tommy studied the young man closely, something feeling familiar about him. Was it just Ranboo’s description? There was a small sketch of him in the notebook. But, no, it was… more than that. “Oh, I wonder if he remembers me. Do you think he does, Tommy?” Tommy frowned, looking at Ghostbur.

“Wil, isn’t he…” Gods, he really didn’t want to put a damper on the spirit’s enthusiasm, but– “Isn’t he a little old to be a page? He almost looks your age.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Ghostbur cocked his head to the side, expression earnestly confused. “Last I checked, Tommy, Fundy was nine.” Okay, now that didn’t seem right. Tommy looked from his companion to the young man on the other side of the street a few times.

“Ghostbur,” he started, struggling to find the right words, “I– I don’t know how to tell you this, but he is very clearly not nine years old. He’s got a little goatee thing goin’ on, and is looks almost as tall as me. I was definitely not that tall when I was nine, Wil.” Ghostbur started to look closer, smile starting to fade. “And didn’t Ranboo say Fundy was trained by someone called Aret or something?” The ghost nodded slowly; across the way, the person in the dark glasses laughed at something the woman said. 

“Eret, yeah…” Ghostbur said, pointing, “That’s them. In the glasses. But that’s…” He made a frustrated noise, wringing his hands. “That’s not right, they’re supposed to be Techno’s age!” That didn’t seem inaccurate to Tommy; Eret looked about the same age as Technoblade, even if Tommy wasn’t the best at determining that kind of thing. Ghostbur died recently, Tommy was starting to realize. This wasn’t the wishful thinking of someone who died forever ago. This was fresh.

“Wil…” he said slowly, “How old is Technoblade supposed to be?” Ghostbur looked at him like it was a stupid question.

“Fourteen.” 

Tommy grimaced.

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-one, nearly twenty-two.”

Techno’s words from the cave echo in his head. I’m older now than my brother was when he died. Was… was Ghostbur Techno’s brother? Was Ghostbur a prince? 

Was this festival for him? 

“Ghostbur, I–” Tommy reached for the pamphlet in his pocket; he’d skimmed over the names, maybe–

“Hey!” Ranboo ran up, holding two pastries. He stopped in front of the arch, smile apologetic once more. “Sorry about the wait, the bakery was packed. The pastries must be super good, especially if they were Ghostbur’s favorite. Right, Ghostbur?” Ghostbur was still staring at the group of guards.

“Wil?” Tommy put his hand on the ghost’s shoulder, finding him surprisingly solid. “Wilbur, are you–” Ghostbur whirled around, grabbing Tommy’s wrist. His eyes blazed cobalt, a blue stain blooming on his sweater.

“Don’t call me that,” he said fiercely; Tommy froze, breath catching in his chest. He hadn’t even realized that– “I’m– I’m not him, I can’t be him, he’s–” The hand around Tommy’s wrist went slack, dropping back to Ghostbur’s side. Blue dripped from his finger tips and stained the skin on Tommy’s arm. Ghostbur swallowed, fight gone from his voice. “He’s dead. I–” He glanced at the group of guards, who were starting to disperse. Eret caught Fundy in a side-hug and stole his cap, ruffling his hair. Fundy laughed and swatted at their hands, snagging his cap back. He pulled away, waving to the group as he jogged away. “I’ll be back. Need a little time to think.” Before Tommy or Ranboo could stop him, he vanished.

A beat.

“...What was that all about?” Ranboo asked. The blue faded from Tommy’s wrist, ethereal.

“I think I might know who he used to be.” Tommy sighed, turning to the taller boy. “He’ll be alright. Just needs a little space, I think. Overwhelmed n’ shit.” 

Ranboo handed him the pastry, some kind of flaky, buttery thing with chocolate in the middle. It was probably the best thing Tommy had ever tasted. He finished it quickly, the sugar hitting his bloodstream immediately. Oh, hell yes, that’s way better. There was still a celebration going on. Ghostbur would be back. Things would be okay.

“Alright!” he said, bouncing slightly on his heels, “Where to next?”

Ranboo led as they wound their way through the city. Their destination, as it turned out, was another square, a little more run down but full of color. And it was full of kids, teenagers and children and preteens all running around, playing games and talking. Tommy had never seen this many people his own age, it was almost dizzying. 

“C’mon!” Ranboo said, grinning and pulling Tommy by the wrist. It wasn’t like how Ghostbur had done it. It was friendly, and Tommy couldn’t help but smile back. The center of the square was covered in chalk, kids and teens creating the most beautiful masterpieces Tommy had ever seen. Everything in this city was beautiful; he was discovering something new every minute. 

Tommy snagged a free piece of chalk, starting to draw like everyone around him. He wasn’t particularly good, but that didn’t matter on a day like today. He heard somebody call something about a rainbow and looked up just in time to see a piece of green chalk hit Ranboo directly in the forehead. The culprit, a girl in a calico cat mask, laughed from a shaded corner of the square. Ranboo rubbed the mark away, sticking his tongue out in the girl’s direction. She laughed louder, and even through how annoyed he tried to look, Tommy could see his smile.

Tommy stood up a while later, dusting the chalk off his hands. It was quite the work of art, if he did say so himself, nowhere else in the square had anyone drawn a better cow. Not that they could; Tommy was simply the best artist there was. Ranboo had gotten up a few minutes ago to speak to the girl in the mask. His drawing, a flower with golden petals, was nice, sure, but it wasn’t as good as Tommy’s. Satisfied with his work, Tommy looked around the square. Maybe there would be someone he could talk to, another peer to hang out with. He’d never had any of those; perhaps it would be something he’d be good at, hanging out.

A little girl asked if he was done with his chalk. He handed it over without question, watching as she ran back to her little group. Standing off to the side, not drawing anything, was a boy. He looked about Tommy’s age, with brown hair and a rumpled green shirt. He was short, Tommy noted. Good. He liked being taller than people. The boy looked up, meeting his eye.

There it was again. That familiar feeling. He knew this kid. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know why, but he knew him. He started to take a step forward, when–

“Huh. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Fuckin’ hell, man!” Tommy startled, turning to see Ranboo standing directly behind him. “Need to put a fuckin’ cat bell on you, you bastard.” Ranboo laughed, and Tommy’s surprise and anger faded immediately.

“Not my fault you weren’t checking your surroundings,” the older teen teased. Tommy shoved him to the side, prompting another laugh. He looked back to where the boy had been standing; he was gone. Tommy was… disappointed? “Who was that?”

“Dunno. Looked familiar, though.” He shrugged. “It’s this city, man. Got me all thinkin’ n’ shit.”

“What a travesty,” Ranboo said, “The kind of thing we have to remedy immediately. Gods forbid you start thinking.” 

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying–”

This, talking and laughing and not having to worry, this is what Tommy had been missing. This was a friend. Gods, he’d always wanted friends. Whatever it was he was worried about earlier, it wasn’t important now. There was a celebration going on. He was a kid at a festival with a friend. He’d always known this is what he’d wanted. He’d never wanted anything more.

In retrospect, “can I talk to you” was probably the worst question Techno could have asked. It was certainly the worst question someone could ask him - it’s too vague, too open-ended. It could mean anything. The last time someone had said that to Techno, he was told that his personality and emotions were too strong for his companions, and that they didn’t want to train with him anymore. He had been, what, seventeen then? Cringe. Cringe all around, really.

Tubbo left the room quietly, the door shutting behind him. At the desk, Phil was looking at him expectantly. 

“So?” he prompted, eyebrows raised. Techno hadn’t actually thought this far ahead. Shit, where would he start? Hey dad, I found your long lost son hiding in the woods. Hey dad, I almost drowned yesterday. Hey dad, that kid who stole a super dangerous artifact is actually really cool, you should let him into the squire program or something. Hey dad, I had a massive fucking panic attack last night because the guy who killed my older brother and cursed me made eye contact while threatening the person I’m certain is my long lost little brother. Hey dad, I’m sorry. 

“Y’know my, uh, quest, right?” Techno said. He reached up to fiddle with an earring. He was starting to regret leaving his rings in his room when he changed the bandage on his hand. Phil’s eyebrows went up further.

“What about it?” Ohhh gods, Techno felt like a little kid again. He was ten years old and asking Phil if he could go into town, even though his mother had already said no. That was the same tone as the ever-dreaded what did your mother say, because it meant he’d have to either lie or tell the truth and face whatever disappointment or consequence comes with it. He took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully.

“I think I’ve found a lead.”

It was also probably the worst day to drop this kind of revelation on Phil. It was a vague enough sentence, don’t get him wrong, but the mix of emotions could definitely get to a guy. Ten years and all that. Phil breathed in sharply, looking apprehensive; Techno regretted saying anything at all. He could have just waited. He could have just waited until after the festival and then brought Tommy back. Really, it could have happened, he didn’t have to do it like this.

“What kind of lead.”

Techno knew that tone. That was the strategist’s tone. The tone that won wars. That was the how many soldiers do I have to send and where tone. That was the show them no mercy tone. Techno knew where. Techno knew who wouldn’t be getting any mercy. He just had to keep this up for a couple days.

“The dam that broke,” he said, not looking at Phil directly, “I heard some reports about the culprit.” He technically wasn’t lying. “They said there was a kid, a teenage boy, who lit the supports on fire with his bare hands. Said it looked like an accident.” After Tommy had gotten better, they started noticing weird things about him. He would sneeze sparks on occasion. His hair would start to glow if he focused too hard. He had a tendency to leave scorch marks on anything made of wood - tiny handprints where only a three-year-old would reasonably reach. Phil looked skeptical. Any teenage boy could have fire powers. Techno cleared his throat. “And– they said his hair was glowin’. Gold. Kid was blond.”

What he doesn’t say is that the kid also has Phil’s eyes and their mother’s smile and laughs the same way Wilbur did. He doesn’t say that he may have Wilbur – at least, some kind of phantasmal memory of Wilbur – with him, either. That would be a little much.

“The, uh–” Unconsciously, Techno pressed his knuckles into his bad palm, pain zipping through his arm. He hissed, shaking his hand out to the side. “–the reports. Said that the kid went back into the woods after that. That he, uh, met up with some- some sorcerer lookin’ guy.”

“Why do I get the feeling you aren’t telling me everything?” He’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. This is it. This is how he dies. 

“What? Me? Not tell you everythin’? C’mon, Phil, who do you think I am?” Yep, there it was. The stern look of disapproval. And, yeah, Techno was a terrible liar, but that wasn’t really the point, now, was it? Techno chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Even over the rim of his glasses, he could see the Look Phil was giving him. Raised eyebrows, pursed lips, unamused expression.

“Uh huh. Sure.” Phil crossed his arms. Logically, Techno knew two things: one, that his father did not possess magical abilities pertaining to making someone tell the truth; and two, that he was an entire twenty-four years old and should be, by all accounts, impervious to even considering that his father would be capable of making him tell the truth through latent magical abilities. And yet, he felt compelled to say more.

“There’s some… other stuff,” he started; Phil gestured for him to keep going, “Me an’ Ranboo– we ran into the kid. By accident.” Technically true! “We have a workin’ idea of his location. And–” Okay. Okay. He could do this. He could say it. And definitely wasn’t shaking a little bit. “And–”

“Techno. Breathe.” Yeah. Yeah. That was probably a good idea. Deep breath. He was fine. He had his freak out last night. No more of that. 

“‘M good. ‘M fine,” he mumbled. Phil scoffed, tension breaking in the room. “I, uh. I should let you go, probably.” Philza hummed, moving back towards his desk. He probably had king stuff to do. Not that Techno particularly knew what that entailed, but–

Fuck, he might be finding out soon, won’t he? If everything goes to plan? If he actually completes his stupid quest? Shit, that’s. Techno had a lot to learn.

“Probably.” That was his cue. He turned to go, but Phil spoke up again. “Hey, Tech?”

Phil hadn’t called him that in a long, long time.

“Yeah, dad?”

“Take care of yourself, alright?”

The day passed faster than Tommy ever expected a day to pass. Everything was noise and action and fun and celebration, more than he’d ever expected. He’d celebrated before. He’d seen action before. He’d had fun before. But it was never like this. Ghostbur returned after a couple hours, looking much better than when he’d left. He was back to his normal, cheery self, and Tommy didn’t have it in him to question why.

The sun was setting. The entire city seemed to be moving towards the docks. The air was buzzing with excitement, with chatter and laughter and warmth. Fireflies danced along the beach, hiding in the scrubby grass whenever children drew near. Tommy considered trying to not look as amazed as he felt, but it didn’t feel worth it. No one would be mad at him for being excited. Ranboo certainly wouldn’t – he looked just as excited as Tommy felt.

“I’ll be right back,” he had said a few minutes ago, two-toned eyes shining in the fading light. He took off down the boardwalk, leaving Tommy and Ghostbur to their own business. The water lapped under the docks; Tommy found he quite liked the smell of the sea. It was nice. The sun was a half-circle against the water, deep orange and bathing everything a burning gold.

Something tapped against the dock. Tommy definitely did not jump at the sound, thank you very much. He was simply transfixed by the sunset, is all. Beside him, Ghostbur turned to see what approached them.

“Oh! Hi Ranboo!”

Sitting in a small canoe, the carved prow gently knocking against the dock, was Ranboo. He grinned up at them, rowing closer. There was something on the seat behind him, but when Tommy tried to see, Ranboo leaned in the way, blocking his view.

“C’mon!” He leaned forward, offering Tommy a hand. “It’s almost time for the main event.”

Tentatively, Tommy took it and stepped down into the boat. Oh, this was weird. What the hell. Getting used to walking on, like, grass and shit was weird enough, but this moves? Fucked up. He wobbled, almost overbalancing, hand in a death grip around Ranboo’s. Leaning against the column of the prow, he slowly slid into the seat. Ghostbur, the prick, just floated down and sat next to him. Once they were both in, Ranboo started to row back, out towards the bay.

“I thought you hated water,” Tommy said, pretending like he wasn’t clutching the seat for dear life. It was a great moment to realize he didn’t know how to swim. Could have occurred to him in the cave, but there were other problems there. Right now, it was just him and Ghostbur and Ranboo, three people with questionable relationships to water, alone in a boat. 

“I do!” Ranboo chirped, rowing them further away from the docks, “Touching water, specifically. We’ll be fine as long as you don’t throw me overboard.” Well. Okay. That didn’t seem so bad. And they weren’t particularly alone, either.

The bay was full of other boats - the smaller ones were closer to the shore, the larger ones farther out. They all had people on them, and all of those people seemed to be waiting for something. It was the same thing all of them were waiting for, wasn’t it? For the main event.

It was starting to get dark in earnest. Across the boat, Ranboo cleared his throat. Tommy looked up, and the older teen pulled three paper lanterns out from behind him. Right. Right, the main event. Ghostbur gasped in delight, but all Tommy could feel was… dread. Fear, in the pit of his gut. He took the lantern and stared at it, shifting uncomfortably. Ghostbur was hugging his to his chest, content to sit on the decorated prow above them. Was this real? Was this finally happening?

“You ready?”

“I…” Tommy started, looking out across the water. Everyone was celebrating. From one of the larger boats, a loud pop! and a cheer from the revelers. He looked back to the lantern in his hands. “...I don’t know.” The paper was so thin under his hands. He could set it on fire with just a thought, too early, and then it would all be over. Ruined. Was he going to ruin it? “I think ‘m scared. Don’t fuckin’ know why, nothin’ to be scared of, it’s a fuckin’ boat and a lantern, but–”

“But you’re worried it won’t be how you expected it to be.” A spindly hand gently pushed the top of the lantern; Tommy glanced up to see Ranboo smiling. He placed the lantern on the floor of the boat, looking up at his friend. 

“I mean, I don’t know? I just–” He chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “–I lied? Seeing the lanterns wasn’t my thing. It was his.” He jabbed his thumb back at Ghostbur, who was not paying attention to them whatsoever. “I just wanted to get out of that fuckin’ tower.” Ranboo hummed, and Tommy continued. “I guess I just– wanted to see the world. Prove I could handle myself out here, meet people, make some fr–”

That was it. 

That was it. 

Ranboo was his friend. That’s what was making today happen. He was with a friend, he was having fun with a friend, and that friend got a little boat and three paper lanterns so that they could all experience the festival’s finale together. Tommy sat up straight, pulling the compass out from around his neck.

“I want you to hold onto this,” he said, holding the compass out. Ranboo took it carefully, holding the compass like it was precious. “To prove something. And to– y’know. Say thank you. And that I, uh. Trust you.” Ranboo traced the surface of the glass with a finger, flipped it over in his hands, studied the words on the back. His eyes were the size of dinner plates, wide in amazement. Tommy’s words came out in a rush. “Because this- this whole thing started with that other one and I accidentally gave it back to you, but you– oh, gods, I don’t know how to say this– you. You didn’t run off?” Ranboo quirked an eyebrow at him. “Just- just– you know, because that was why you were escorting me in the first place, I had that thing you wanted, you wanted it back, I’d give it back once I was home, all that, but–” He paused to take a breath, definitely not embarrassed or anything. “But you didn’t leave when I gave you it by accident, and I- I know you won’t leave now that I’ve given you this one.”

“Tommy…” Ranboo was still turning the compass over and over in his hands, staring in disbelief as the needle pointed to the other boy. “This is…”

“It was the only thing I had from when I still lived here,” Tommy said, gesturing towards the city, “Most valuable possession n’ that. But I- I know if I let you hold onto it, you’re not gonna run off or some shit.”

“You- you know what this is, right?” Ranboo said, “You know what this means?”

“S’ a magic compass that points to me.” Tommy shrugged. “Means you’re my friend.”

“Tommy, this is–”

Dressed up, and no one was even going to see them. Techno had his hair washed and tugged and braided, his broken glasses repaired, his hand healed. His dress blues were stiff; he hadn’t been around for a fancy occasion in a long, long time. Tubbo arrived at six-fifteen. He had been conspicuously missing for most of the day.

“Have fun out there?” Techno had asked, catching Tubbo trying to sneak in wearing what was definitely his commoner disguise.

“I–” Tubbo had frozen, looking like a deer in headlights. Techno put his hands up, meaning no harm. After a moment, the kid sighed, allowing himself a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I had fun.”

And now, they were standing just behind the grand balcony doors, waiting for their cue to go out. The sun was barely a sliver over the horizon. Tubbo stood, stiff as a board, hands behind his back, gazing out at the water.

“You ready?” Techno said, glancing at his brother.

Tubbo swallowed, biting his lip.

“Not at all.”

The doors opened.

A chime rang out, magically amplified. The castle balcony lit up like a beacon. A hush fell over the city. It was too far to make out any details, but several figures stepped out. The royals and advisers, presumably. Technoblade was up there. What Tommy wouldn’t give to see him in whatever fancy fuckin’ clothes they made him wear. Apparently, the youngest prince was going to make a speech, according to whatever stuffy old guy they had make the opening remarks. Tommy didn’t catch his name. Something dumb, probably. Whatever it was, it had Ghostbur sitting up straight and paying attention.

“Friends, citizens, visitors.” 

The prince sounded younger than Tommy was expecting. He almost thought the guy would sound like Techno, deep voice, kind of monotone, but this prince sounded… like a kid.

“First, I want to thank you all for coming. It is people like you, all of you, that make this day truly special. Look around you, at what you have and at those around you. Look at all that we have built over the last ten years. It has been an honor to watch this city grow and thrive, and a privilege to grow with it.”

Tommy took a look around. Yeah. Yeah, he was alright with the people he had. It was an honor to have them around.

“Today is a day of celebration, but it is also a day of remembrance. We celebrate those we have, and honor those we have lost. We celebrate life, and take time to reflect on those no longer with us. It has been ten years since tragedy struck our kingdom. My eldest brother gave his life to protect me and my twin. The first lantern vigil was held in his memory, though the rest have had a secondary purpose. It has been our hope that one day, these lanterns will guide my twin home. Each year, we send them up, and each year, we pray that he will return. This year is no different, but we wish the next will be.” 

The last bits of sunlight were fading quickly. The sky was almost completely dark. Ghostbur glowed faintly on the prow, attention rapt. The prince’s tone turned serious, official, and he continued.

“As you all know, the loss of our princes threw the kingdom into a period of severe political disorder. With the heir to the throne gone, it became unclear who would take the crown in his stead. After much deliberation, we have come to a decision. Barring certain circumstances, this decision is final. It is with great honor that I announce–" The prince took a deep breath. "It is with great honor that I announce that once I come of age, I will be taking the throne."

A cheer rang out through the kingdom. Tommy looked back at Ranboo, at a loss, but the older teen looked just as shocked. It didn’t seem right, this was a kid announcing this. Tommy couldn’t imagine being royalty, much less next in line for a throne. On the balcony, the prince took another breath, releasing it shakily, his tone jubilant again.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous for it.” He laughed, almost self-consciously. “But, I know that when the time comes, I will do my best to serve you well, just as my father has done before me. I aim to continue this age of peace, and am appreciative of your support in my announcement.” The prince sighed. It was weird, he sounded almost exactly like how Ghostbur did when he was relieved. “In just a moment, we will be releasing the first lantern. I ask you all to join me in this ceremony, and in remembering those we have loved, and those we have lost. May it be the beacon to guide my brothers home. Thank you.”

Applause. From one of the larger boats, a bell was ringing. Ghostbur was cheering. Tommy clapped along; he could never make a speech like that, shit was impressive. As the noise died down, quiet settled back over the bay. It was dark. It was silent. The moon had risen some time ago, and was now a bright silver against the sky. The light on the balcony went out, and in its stead rose a single, golden lantern. It drifted higher and higher, warm against a backdrop of stars. 

Suddenly, more light. Hundreds of lanterns, golden, glowing, started slowly rising from around the palace like mountain being pushed out of the ground. Tommy’s heart pounded in his chest, his gaze fixed on that first – what had the prince called it? – beacon. Something about this felt… right. He was meant to be here.

Behind him, Ranboo cleared his throat. The other boaters on the water were starting to release their lanterns. Both Tommy and Ghostbur turned; the spirit dropped down from the prow, moving to sit beside them. Ranboo held out his own lantern, offering the wick to Tommy.

“Care to do the honors?”

He’d love to.

With a laugh, Tommy touched the wick of the lantern; it burst into a controlled flame, the paper container taking on a gentle, golden glow. Ghostbur held out his own lantern, and Tommy lit that one as well. He did his own last, watching the flame carefully circle the wick. He didn’t set the whole thing on fire. He didn’t burn it all down. They waited as the lanterns started to lift, and let them go.

The air was filled with light and laughter and sound and it was the most amazing thing Tommy had ever seen. He was meant to be here, he was meant to see this, he never wanted to go home. He wanted to live in this moment forever, to never lose this feeling. He wanted to keep the reflection of the lanterns in Ghostbur’s eyes and the sparkle of the light on the water and the surprised, kind of scared but not really way that Ranboo was laughing as Tommy accidentally rocked the boat for ever. 

On the shore, a light, cooler than the rest.

Tommy’s heart sank as he recognized the figure on the bank, opposite to the docks. Forest green cloak, blending in black against the trees. White mask, bright in the moonlight. A dim, green lantern in one hand.

The night was suddenly cold.

“Hey, Ranboo?” Tommy said, his voice distant.

“Hm?” Ranboo looked over, his eyes big in the dark.

“Can you…” Ghostbur still looked so happy. Tommy didn’t want to ruin that. “Can you row us over there?” He pointed to the opposite shore. Dream turned, vanishing into the trees. “Think ‘m startin’ to feel a little seasick.”

“The ceremony’s almost over. We can go back to the docks and meet Techno early, if you want.”

“N-nah.” Tommy needed to get better at lying. It felt so obvious, this lie. “Just for a moment. Need to– get on solid ground for just a moment.”

“Y-yeah, of course,” Ranboo said, sounding genuinely concerned. Tommy appreciated it. Real friends n’ that. “You sure you’re alright?”

“‘M fine,” Tommy mumbled, still staring at the treeline, “Just a little dizzy. Can we go over there?”

Ranboo started to row.

Chapter Text

It’s dizzying, stepping back onto solid ground. Tommy didn’t know what he was expecting; the swaying of the boat had almost become familiar. He took a step, stumbled, righted himself again. Being sea sick suddenly felt a little more plausible.

“Looks like you haven’t yet gotten your sea legs, Tommy!”

“Not now, Ghostbur,” he muttered. A paper lantern landed on the surf, the flame blinking out instantly. “Need t’ take a little walk, ‘ll be right back.”

“You sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Ranboo asked; it hurt Tommy’s heart, but he shook his head. Dream would only hurt the other boy, realistically. It would be better to face his mentor alone.

“Think ‘m overwhelmed n’ shit. Need to be by m’self for a little.” He took a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair. The flower the little girl had braided into it that afternoon came loose, and fell to the ground. “Fifteen minutes. Max. Just gotta take a walk.”

“I’ll be here.” It was a comforting sentiment.

It was the second time in two days that Tommy had ventured into a dark forest after Dream. It probably wasn’t a good thing that that was the case. The trees here were less dense, but Tommy still couldn’t see him. Tentatively, he called out.

“Dream?”

To his right, “Tommy!”

He turned, and there was Dream, briskly walking towards him, pale green lantern in one hand. Before he could do anything, Dream was in front of him and pulling him into a hug. “Thank the gods you’re alright!” 

“What do you–” The boy froze, eyes going wide. Dream pulled back, fretfully checking Tommy’s face, arms, hands.

“I was so worried, I knew you wanted to go to this ceremony but you– Tommy, you can’t swim, you could have drowned. And on a boat with a criminal, too, it’s a miracle you weren’t hurt!” Tommy tried to take a step back, but Dream matched with a step forward. “When I saw you out on that boat, I didn’t know what to do, you were out there and I was on the shore and–” He made an anxious sound, wringing his hands. “And I wasn’t even sure he’d led you go! I saw you coming towards the shore and felt so relieved but I hadn’t known if he’d let you out of his sight or if he’d insist on staying with you but–” A warm, satisfied sigh. “–here you are. Safe and sound. And we can go home, and–”

“Wait, wait, Dream, stop.” All of this was– confusing, to say the very least. It was like every signal in his head was going off at once; happy to be back with Dream, worried about Ranboo, scared of what was to come, sad that the night was over, all turned around. He took another few steps back, holding up a hand as Dream tried to get closer again. This day was becoming too much. All of this at once. Dream stayed a few feet away, at least. “I’ve– It’s been a long couple days, just. Give me a second.”

“Of course, of course.” Dream sighed again, fidgeting in place. “I went back to the tower so you could see some of the Hunt, but– you weren’t there, and we had to call the whole thing off, and–” Shit, the Hunt had been called off? “Well, we managed to find you at that dam, and when the lock broke and you vanished I– you could have died, it’s amazing that you’re okay, Tommy, can’t I revel in that?”

“Y-yeah, just–” Tommy pressed his eyes in until he saw spots. Why did this have to be so difficult, fuck. He blinked the spots away, wiping his palms on his pants. When he looked back at Dream, things weren’t more clear. “I- I don’t want to go home, okay?”

Dream stopped fidgeting, his hands dropping to his sides.

“What.”

“I don’t–” Tommy growled in frustration, words getting caught in his throat. “I don’t– want to go home. Not yet.”

“Why do you say that?” There was something ethereal about Dream’s voice – it was light and airy, but flat and distant at the same time.

“Just that–” Tommy gestured vaguely towards the city. “It’s– Today was great, okay? I wasn’t– there wasn’t any danger, I never felt- felt unsafe at any point, it was the best day of my life!” Dream crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side. “I- I mean, you said we used to live here, right? When I was little?”

“Yes, but–”

“If– you said that people tried to kidnap me as a kid, right? They knew I had fire powers n’ shit, if they didn’t know, they wouldn’t be able to get me in the first place! We’d be safe, I’ve got control of myself, I can control my powers, I just–” He looked back to the castle, then to his mentor. “You should have seen it, Dream. It was amazing, all the people and the colors and- and everyone was so kind and–” 

“I have seen it,” Dream interrupted, “I have seen it, Tommy, and I know what it’s really like there.”

“And so have I!” Tommy said, “I’ve seen what it’s like! You haven’t been there in ten years, maybe it’s changed!” 

“And if it hasn’t?” Gods, this was getting old.

“It doesn’t matter!” Tommy threw his hands up, unable to stay still any longer. He strode a few steps further away, starting to pace in earnest. “Dream, listen. If- if this has proven anything, it’s that I have control over my powers and that- that I can handle myself! I’ve been handling myself just fine! And meeting people, and- and learning things, and making friends! I’ve made friends, Dream! I’ve never had those before!”

“What am I, then, some sort of fancy lamp?”

“That’s not the point! I’ve- I’ve never had people my own age, Dream, and I’ve finally– I’ve finally met someone I–” He laughed incredulously, pushing his hair back. “I’ve met someone I trust, someone my age, and- and he’s my friend, he’s–”

Ant liked to think he still had somewhat of a moral compass. He was loyal to his friends, he cured any undead he came across, he taught alchemy to anyone who sought him out. If the highlight of his year was hunting one of his closest friends for sport, that was his business. And if he was currently helping said friend maintain somewhat ill-gotten gains though even more ill measures, well.

That was a problem he could have a crisis about later. Not that he would. But he could, if he wanted.

They were waiting on Bad’s signal. The half-Ender kid was standing beside his little boat, scrawling in a notebook and watching the spot where Dream had vanished with Tommy. He glanced around awkwardly, before putting the notebook away and pulling something out of his pocket. It looked valuable, whatever it was. Shiny. Wasn’t the kid wanted for stealing something? Surely the kingdom would want it back. It’d be too easy. Ant had to stifle a snicker. That would give them away.

They made one hell of a team, in Ant’s opinion. The commander of a demon army, a hothead with decades of archery practice in his quiver, a notorious and charming shapeshifter, the most powerful sorcerer in the last thousand years, and the owner of a philosopher’s stone. 

Together, they could level cities.

The cities were lucky that they didn’t want to. Instead, they wanted to help each other out, have fun, live out their decades doing what they loved. Ant didn’t love tricking and kidnapping innocent kids, likely leading to their deaths, but he didn’t mind it. It was just business, after all.

Bad gave the signal. On his cue, George stepped out of the treeline, disguised as Tommy. The half-Ender kid perked up, putting the shiny thing back in his pocket.

“Hey!” he said, taking a step towards George, “Feeling better? You looked a little worried for a moment.”

“Just needed to clear my head,” ‘Tommy’ said, shrugging, “Loads better now.” The half-Ender kid frowned.

“Are… you alright? Your voice sounds a little different.” 

“Yeah, just–” George coughed a few times. That was the one thing he needed to work on. He was an excellent shapeshifter, and a terrible mimic. “Bit of a cough?”

“Uh...huh.” The kid looked doubtful, but moved towards the boat. “We should probably get going now, Techno’s gonna–” As soon as his back was turned, George vanished, reappearing beside Sapnap. Ant threw a potion bottle. The kid looked over his shoulder; his ‘friend’ was gone, and there was a glass vial shattering at his feet. He gasped as it hit the ground, getting a nice lungful of Ant’s specially brewed, extra-strong weakness potion. He swayed, stumbling to the side, and tried to catch himself on the boat’s carved prow.

He didn’t make it. 

The four of them watched as the kid collapsed on the sand. They had to work quickly. The potion’s effect wouldn’t last forever.

“You mean the thief? The one who dropped you off on the shore?” Dream cut him off, voice sharp. Tommy had to stop, blinking in confusion.

“Y-yeah, he said he’d w–”

“Wait? He said he’d wait? And you believed him?” Dream advanced towards him quickly; Tommy stumbled back at the sudden movement, glancing around nervously.

“L-look, you don’t have to do this again, I- I trust Ranboo, okay? He wouldn’t–”

“How can you be so sure?” How… how could he be so sure? Was he being too trusting? He had– he had given Ranboo his most prized possession, how could he be so sure?

“I- I don’t–”

“That’s right. You don’t know. You don’t know him.” Blinking, Tommy tried to process what he was hearing, what Dream was saying. Suddenly, Dream grabbed his upper arm, dragging him back through the woods towards the shore. 

“Dream, what–!”

They reached the treeline. The boat was gone. 

“Look.” Dream pointed out to the water. Dread boiled in Tommy’s gut; the bay was nearly empty, save for one small ship heading back towards the docks. A canoe. And sitting in it, a tall, thin figure. The moonlight caught on white hair.

No.

No. 

“Look,” Dream said, “Don’t you see?” 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ see it,” Tommy spat, tearing his gaze away from the person he thought was his friend. He broke away from Dream, anger and fear and hurt burning him from the inside out. His shoulder shook, his eyes blurring with tears. How long had it been since he’d given Ranboo the compass? Twenty minutes? An hour? Did- did he do something to make Ranboo run off? “Why would–”

A soft hand on his shoulder. Tommy didn’t even look, he just turned and buried his face in Dream’s shoulder, a sob wracking his chest. It was too much. It was too much. Dream sighed softly, nodding, holding the boy close. He carded a hand through Tommy’s hair, voice gentle.

“I know, I know…” he soothed. Did he? Did he know? Tommy didn’t care. This was familiar, this was home, he’d take the comfort he could get. “I just wanted to keep you safe, Tommy. I didn’t want to see you hurt like this.” Yeah. Yeah, it made sense. Tommy nodded, prompting another quiet sigh. “It hurts to see you so upset. I’m sorry. I’m sorry you didn’t know better. I should have done more to teach you.”

He should have listened. He should have listened, he should have known. Gods, he was fucking stupid. He was an idiot for believing anyone would want to– That was all he had left. All he had of his life before living with Dream, and now it was gone. He’d gotten so caught up in the day that he didn’t even consider trying to- to find his parents and now he– and now his only connection– After another few moments, Tommy pulled away. He sniffled, wiping his eyes roughly. He was tired. It had been a long, long day. He missed his bed. He just… He wanted to rest.

“Can–” he started, unable to look his mentor in the face, “Can we go home?” Pitiful. That’s how he probably looked, fucking pitiful. Pathetic, even. Dream put an arm around him, turning him back towards the woods.

“Of course. I have a teleportation circle set up in a nearby clearing. Would you like to use that?”

“Y-yeah.” Tommy wiped his eyes again, exhaustion settling into his bones. There was nothing left in him. Nothing to fight with. Or for. He swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, please.” Dream hummed, and continued forward.

They crossed the treeline. Tommy didn’t look back.

⍀⏃⋏⏚⍜⍜ woke with a start. The world was swaying. His head hurt. It was dark out. His vision was blurred. Where was he? Who was he? What was going on?

He couldn’t move. There were – where was he? – ropes around his wrists. And his ankles. Who was he? He was ⍀⏃⋏⏚⍜⍜. He was– Ranboo. Yes. Yes. That was his name. Okay. Good. He was Ranboo. That was something he knew. His chest felt tight. Where was he? Why was the world so–

The boat knocked against the docks, jolting Ranboo out of his daze. The boat, yes, he was in a small festival boat. His hands were tied to the oars. His ankles were tied to a post under the seat, and there was a rope around his chest to keep him upright. How did he wind up here? How did he– Think. Think, think, come on. He was in a boat with Tommy and they went to the shore and–

Tommy. Where was Tommy?

The reality of the situation hit him. He was in the festival boat. He was tied to the festival boat. Tommy was gone. Tommy was the missing prince. Ranboo had found him and now he was gone. No, no, no, no. He pulled against the ropes, panic racing through him. He had to get out, he had to get out, Tommy was in trouble he had to help– He fought against the binds, rocking the boat. He was going to be sick, he had to get out. 

On the docks, footsteps. Ranboo started to struggle harder, the ropes scraping against his skin; the prow of the canoe knocked repeatedly against the dock. The footsteps were coming faster.

“Who’s there?!”

Guards.

There was a tiny part of him, just a little one, that hoped maybe it would be Puffy. Or Eret. Or- or Fundy or someone he knew. Someone who didn’t want him dead, someone who didn’t hate him by virtue of him just existing, he had to get away–

Three guards approached, footsteps heavy on the dock. He didn’t know any of them. He didn’t know any of them. The one with the lantern brought the light closer.

They knew him.

Techno said he’d get the word out, Techno said–

They demanded he get up. He couldn’t move, he could barely think. One of them said something about ropes. The boat lurched as a guard clambered in, cutting the binds and dragging him up onto the dock. Cold iron around his wrists. A bruising grip on his upper arm. They kept saying words like reward and promotion and traitor and monster. The city streets passed by in a blur. Ranboo struggled. It didn’t matter.

They brought him to a building Ranboo didn’t recognize. It was close to the castle. They must be inside the main walls by now. There was a bored-looking guard at the desk.

“Another drunk?”

“Somethin’ better.” They shoved him forward; the night guard’s eyes widened. They were staring at him. They were all staring at him.

“Oh, shit.”

“Holding cells?” None of it made sense. None of it made sense.

“That’s protocol.” The grip was back, now on his other arm. “They’ll want a report.”

“We’ll send it in the morning. Keep ‘im over night.” The night guard tossed a ring of keys to the group. One of them caught it, and Ranboo felt himself getting dragged somewhere else. Through a locked door. Into a room filled with little lockers. They were taking his things. They were taking the compass–

“W-wait!” he managed, voice hoarse with fear, “No, no, you can’t, I–”

“You what, freak?” They were staring at him again. Looking right into his eyes. 

“I– Please, wait, I– Techno, he–” A distressed growl built in his throat, words warped. “Prince Theseus, I need to speak t–” One of the guards scoffed. Another was taking his memory book. “No, no, give that back, please, I can’t–” The book was tossed into the locker, falling beside the compass. It was much less interesting than the struggling half-Ender thief in front of them, desperately trying to talk his way out of his arrest. “He needs to know, I- I found the–”

“Get on with it, kid,” snarled the guard still holding his arm. Ranboo swallowed down another chirp of fear.

“I- I found– the- the missing prince, I know where he is, he’s in trouble, I need to–” The locker slammed shut, the noise making him flinch. 

“And I’m the heir apparent,” the guard with the keys sneered, rolling his eyes. He nodded to the other two guards. “Number 21 is free.”

Techno said–

He was being dragged through another door. The irons on his wrists bit into his skin worse than the ropes did. A long row of doors. One opened, and he was shoved inside. He stumbled, hit the wall.

His head hurt. His vision was blurred. Where was he? Who was he? The door slammed shut. A guard laughed, cruel.

He wouldn’t remember this in the morning.

Ten o’clock. 

Techno waited by the fountain. The kids hadn’t arrived yet. He wouldn’t worry yet. The city was still calming down from the festivities. A stray lantern drifted across the cobblestones.

Ten-thirty.

The city was quiet. He nodded to a passing guard.

Eleven o’clock.

They were supposed to be here by now.

Eleven-thirty.

Techno had been pacing for fifteen minutes.

Midnight.

He went home.

It was one of those mornings where you just knew the day is going to suck. The sun wasn’t up yet. The mist hadn’t yet burned off in the valley. Grey light sifted through the curtains. It was early, Tommy knew that much. It was early, and he was home.

His head was pounding. He felt worn out. His eyes were heavy, and there was exhaustion nearly etched into his soul. The glass on his bedside table was empty. There was a spot without any dust, a circle. Something was missing, Tommy noted dully. He rolled over; on the other side of the bed, his satchel. There was a light coming from the inside. Blearily, he flipped the top open, revealing a small collection of items. A glass marble, a metal button, a green kerchief, a folded paper, and the source of the light, a small phial of glowing, golden liquid.

Oh.

Right.

The previous night came back to him all at once. The lanterns, giving Ranboo his compass, seeing Dream on the shore, leaving Ranboo for a minute, talking to Dream, watching Ranboo row away. Realizing he was wrong. Realizing he was stupid. Going home. Apologizing. Apologizing and crying and apologizing for crying because he wasn’t like that, he was stronger than that, and Dream comforting him anyway. It was in the past now. Dream had been forgiving. He had been kind. He had even apologized for keeping Tommy locked up so long. Maybe they’d be able to go around the valley some time. Not yet, though. He’d have to earn it. But the last two days were in the past, and they could move forward like it was all a nightmare.

Except it wasn’t. This bag was proof. The missing compass was proof. It happened. The last two days were real and they happened and all this bag served to do was remind Tommy how fucking stupid he had been to trust someone he knew for maybe thirty-six hours with the most important thing he owned. Someone he knew to be a wanted thief, no less. Dream was right, Ranboo was probably off selling the damn thing by now. Whatever. Not like it’d matter. It pointed to some fucking useless idiot in a tower with unreliable powers. Nobody would want that.

There was no way Tommy would be able to fall back to sleep at this point. Fuck.

It was too early for Dream to be up, realistically. Tommy stayed extra quiet as he crept into the kitchen to refill his water, his head aching with every step. Gods, he hated crying. Made him feel like shit every time. No noise from Dream’s room, though that was to be expected. He went back up the stairs, shutting the door behind him. 

Ghostbur was sitting on the bed. 

“Good morning!” Tommy didn’t have the energy for this. He put the glass on the nightstand and flopped face-first onto the bed with a groan. Ghosbur was unfazed. “Sleep well?”

“What do you think, Ghostbur?” Tommy’s voice was muffled against a pillow. The spirit didn’t let his enthusiasm waver, turning to the satchel on the floor.

“Ooh, are these your treasures from yesterday?” The bag dropped onto the bed beside Tommy, and he heard Ghostbur start to rummage through the bag.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The rustling stops. Paper is unfolded. Tommy looked up; Ghostbur was frowning, but not down at him. He was staring at the pamphlet Tommy had gotten from that stall in the city, expression confused and, if Tommy didn’t know any better, almost scared. “...What do you have there?”

“Where did you…” Ghostbur blinked several times, eyes filming over with blue. Tommy scrambled up and snatched the paper from his hands; the ghost snapped back to his regular self immediately, continuing to sort through the bag. He picked up the green kerchief, examining it. “Oh, this color is lovely!” 

Back to normal, then. There was no way Tommy could ever settle back into his real sense of normal, not after yesterday. Not after seeing what was out there. But he could act like it. He could continue acting like the bright-eyed kid wanting to make his mentor proud, never questioning him. If Ghostbur could go back to his cheery attitude and Dream could go back to being a kind, if strict, mentor, Tommy could go back to being the earnest little fuckup he’d always been. He moved to a more comfortable sitting position, finally examining the pamphlet in detail.

The cover had a print of the kingdom’s crest, and a header declaring yesterday the 10th Annual Beacon-Lighting Ceremony. The opening paragraph was full of buzzwords and the stuff Tommy knew already. Hope, light, memory, celebration, life, death, whatever. Then, something caught his eye. 

This night marks the tenth anniversary of the death of Prince Wilbur Soot, eldest son of the King, and the disappearance of the youngest prince, Thomas. At the time of his death, Wilbur was a few months shy of twenty-two.

Uh. He kept reading. 

In the night, Thomas, known to his brothers as Tommy, was stolen by a masked figure, who slew Prince Wilbur in their escape. This year, he would be sixteen. 

Uh. Right. Okay. Well. He skipped a few paragraphs down.

It is said that the twin princes held twin compasses that pointed to one another, inscribed with each other’s nicknames. In the fray, Prince Thomas took not the compass pointing to his twin, but the one pointing to himself. If this compass could be located, the search for the missing prince would be over in a matter of weeks.

Below this, there was a small illustration. Two compasses, both with inscriptions on the back. Your Tommy, Your Tubbo. The description claimed this was the elder twin’s childhood nickname. Tommy’s mind raced, thoughts a blur. His heart hammered somewhere in his throat; it was hard to breathe. None of it made sense. It made too much sense. It couldn’t be real. There was no way–

The portrait. The portrait would do it. That would be the real decider. Never mind that the only thing he had from his past was his compass, never mind that the ghost beside him claimed to be the exact same age as this dead prince, never mind that he, too, was sixteen. Tommy turned the pamphlet over to the page with the portrait of the royal family. It showed the king and his four sons – a young man, a teenager, and two small boys. Something about the king’s face was familiar, the warm smile and kind eyes tugging at something in Tommy’s memory. 

The teenager was definitely Technoblade, Tommy could say that confidently, but he was distinctly tusk-less and his hair was only down to his shoulders. He looked serious, but there was a levity to it. There wasn’t as much sadness in his posture. The boys, the twins, looked to be about five years old. One was blond, the other brunet. There was something familiar about the brunet prince’s face, too. He was… Tommy couldn’t place it. He knew what the kid’s voice sounded like, sure, but that didn’t explain why Tommy knew his face. He didn't look too closely at the blond twin's face, and that might have been on purpose.

After a moment, it made sense to Tommy why he recognized the king’s face. It was mirrored right beside him, in the face of his eldest son. In Ghostbur’s face. The black and white print of the pamphlet made it almost too obvious – identical greyscale complexion, identical dark, curly hair, identical posture. He studied Ghostbur, now examining the colorful marble, and tried to picture him in the same formalwear as the prince. It was too perfect.

“Hey, Ghostbur…” he started, still trying to make all the pieces make sense in his head, “How old would you reckon I was when we started living here?”

“Six,” Ghostbur said, not looking up from the marble. Of course. Of course he was six.

“Do you remember where you lived in the city?”

“Not in that house I wanted, that’s for certain.” The ghost snorted, rolling his eyes. Tommy could see him in a crown. “My dad never would have said anything about it, but I know now that implicitly it would have been beneath us. Techno never understood why I wanted to live there so bad, but he was, what, three? Of course he didn’t understand.”

“Right…” Okay. Progress. Sure. Tommy could ignore the fact that he was flipping his shit just a moment longer. “Who’s Tubbo, again?”

“My little brother.” Ghostbur picked up the green kerchief again, running his thumb over the embroidered bee. “We heard him speak yesterday, Tommy. You were there.” 

“Y-yeah, right, uh.” Fuck, fuck, how was he supposed to process all of this. He tried to not let his voice shake. “And– Wilbur.”

“Yeah?” Fuck.

“Remind me what your last name is?” His throat was dry. He swallowed down the nerves.

Ghostbur gave him a skeptical look through his bangs, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Bit of a stupid question, isn’t it?” They both already knew the answer. “It’s the same as yours, Tommy. It’s Soot.”

From downstairs, shuffling. A voice from the bottom of the banister. Tommy’s heart plummeted.

“Tommy? You up?”

Dream was awake.

Ranboo didn’t know where he was.

Obviously, okay, he knew where he was physically. He was in a room, with hay on the floor and bars on the window and an uncomfortable wooden bench for a bed. There were bars on the window of the heavy door, too. By all accounts, this was a cell. Ranboo was in a cell. Ranboo was, by all accounts, in jail.

The morning light filtered weakly in, dust catching in the dim rays. It was quiet. It was nice, he supposed, that the prison wasn’t just stone walls and darkness. There was a little sunlight! A little fresh air! He wasn’t stuck underground! That’s good! If it were winter, it would probably suck way more, but it was summer, so it didn’t matter. Not right now, at least. Ranboo was looking on the bright side. It would all be a misunderstanding, and he’d be able to clear things up quickly. No harm, no foul, no treason.

But he couldn’t kid himself. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t freaking out. Which cell was this? How did he get here? How did he get out? Did anyone know where he was? Where was Tommy? Where were his things? What happened last night? He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t do anything. It was too much, it was too much, he didn’t know where he was or what was happening or what would happen and every time he moved his hands the chains around his wrists would rattle and the stone wall behind him was cold and–

Noise outside. Talking. Guards? Armor clanking. Keys rattling. The door swung open, banging against the wall. Ranboo didn’t know why he wanted to pretend like he didn’t flinch. Not like the guards would care. It’s not like they would think any less of him. Less than they already did. They probably wanted him dead. He felt a distressed, staticky whine build in his throat; one of the guards snarled, pulling him up by the shoulder.

“C’mon,” the guard said, as Ranboo tried to pull away. The guard huffed and called to the other. “Get his other arm, he’s struggling.” Hands on his other arm. This was probably the worst thing to ever happen in Ranboo’s entire life. He tried to plant his feet on the ground, getting no purchase on the smooth stone floor. The guards scoffed at him, dragging him along. Out of the cell he was in, towards… what? Towards a second cell?

They were bringing him towards a second cell. 

Panic flooded Ranboo’s system as he realized what was happening. Techno had told him about this once, over a campfire meal some months ago.

“Phil doesn’t, y’know, like killin’ people. But the whole ‘execution’ thing does have structure. If you’re guilty or whatever, usually they put you in a normal cell, n’ once the king says ‘yeah you can kill that guy,’ you get brought somewhere closer. S’easier to get you to the gallows that way.” 

It had been chilling to hear then, but it was infinitely worse right now. Treason was punishable by death. And if the king had signed off on it– Techno had said he’d be okay, Techno had said– Ranboo tried again to yank away, scrambling against the stone to no avail. The guards had him held tight. People always talked about desperate times and desperate measures. This probably counted.

The air contracted and suddenly released. Opening his eyes, Ranboo realized that his half-assed plan had worked – he’d warped away. He’d gotten away, the guards were no longer holding him. He shot a look over his shoulder at the bewildered soldiers – equally shocked as he was – before dashing down the hallway away from them. There was a door at the end of the hall. He ran hard, lungs burning.

He tried the handle on the door. Locked. Locked, locked, no– The guards were catching up quickly. The slot on the door slid open, a pair of eyes staring back at Ranboo. A spike of pain bored into his brain, making him grab the sides of his head with a yelp. There went that plan, there went that plan, he was so stupid, he should have known, what was he thinking–

The guards caught up to him. Held his arms behind his back. He thrashed in their grip, but the energy that let him teleport the first time was gone. The door swung open, and a taller, tougher guard came out. 

“The half-Ender traitor?” they asked. One of the guards holding him made some sort of noise to confirm. The tougher guard grabbed his chin, forcing Ranboo to meet their eyes. Was- was his distress funny? Was this a joke? Was this what they did to every prisoner they were going to kill?

Oh, gods. 

They were going to kill him.

The guard wasn’t blinking, and it hurt. Ranboo screwed his eyes shut, the relief immediately replaced with an entirely different, possibly worse pain. Water. Where was there water? Why was there water on his f– oh. Oh. Great. He hissed, warbled, cried out. Great. He was crying. The guard released his chin, letting him sag in the others’ hold. They would probably drown him. They’d probably make it the worst thing they could imagine. Keep him in something that made it impossible for him to teleport in the first place. He was going to die. 

Their voices stopped sounding like words and more like noise. His own noise sounded less like the warbles of a normal Enderman and more like those of a panicked, slightly monstrous teenager. That’s all he was, wasn’t he? A teenager? A kid?

The gallows weren’t far from the cell they threw him in. They didn’t leave.

One of them had a waterskin on hand, not very full.

They emptied it by taking turns flicking water at him; any words he tried – please, wait, stop, I found, the prince, the compass, I don’t, stop, please, why – turned into those same shrieks and cries. He was going to die in absolute agony. They kept trying to make him meet their eyes. He kept trying to teleport away. They laughed at him. He wanted to be anywhere else. They kept looking at him. He was going to die, and maybe it would be from the gallows. Maybe the water would get him first.

The door slammed shut. He looked up from where they had dropped him. His hands were shaking. His vision was blurred. He couldn’t remember getting dropped. Or why everything hurt. Or why he was trembling. His face was burning. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t remember who was supposed to be looking out for him, or why it hurt so much.

He was going to die. 

He could remember that much.

Breakfast had been a quiet affair, almost peaceful. Techno, with his hair still in a braid from the previous night and a half-drained cup of coffee in one hand. Tubbo, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he picked at his eggs. Philza, reading reports, even at the meal table. 

Breakfast had been a quiet affair, almost peaceful, until a messenger broke it all. 

“My lord!” The chamber door burst open, a messenger rushing up to the table. He gave a small bow as he approached; couldn’t have been more than fourteen. Someone’s squire, probably. Tubbo jumped, no longer looking quite so tired. Philza looked up from his reports, adjusting his spectacles. Techno only spared the kid a look out of the corner of his eye. There was no way it was important.

“...Yes?” Phil said slowly. Techno heard papers get shuffled and placed back on the table.

“The thief responsible for stealing the prince’s compass was caught last night! He’s been brought to the holding cells beside the gallows. He is to be executed shortly, as per your decree.”

“He’s what?” Techno heard himself saying, his coffee now the least interesting thing on the table. He was standing, he noticed. The kid was shaking, but held out a piece of paper to him. Techno snatched it up, reading quickly.

“Y-you said said, my king, that if the thief were caught he was to be executed?” the messenger said, voice small. Techno huffed, throwing the paper aside.

“He was excused!” Techno turned to his father, who nodded. The message had been sent out, Techno had been there, Ranboo had been pardoned. He turned back to the kid. “Where is he?”

“I-in the holding cells, sir, next to the–”

Techno had heard enough. He knew where everything was. He knew this castle better than the fucking servants probably did. He grabbed his cloak from his chair and stormed out.

A child. They were going to execute a child. They had arrested Ranboo, whom they knew– Techno could barely think through his anger. No way. No way another kid was getting hurt. And– shit, if they had Ranboo, did that mean they had Tommy? Was Tommy safe? Was this why they hadn’t met up with him?

Guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt, he should have stayed with them, he should have been there, he couldn’t get a brother back just to lose him again. He couldn’t let Ranboo get hurt, either, what kind of fucking mentor was he? The kid was never going to trust him again, he was going to hate him. And they’d have to find Tommy, they’d have to–

The gallows weren’t far. 

Techno ran.

Chapter Text

The facts Tommy knew:

One: The youngest prince of the Northern Empire had been missing for as long as Tommy had lived in the tower.

Two: Ghostbur was the ghost of Tommy’s older brother.

Three: Ghostbur was the ghost of Wilbur Soot, deceased eldest prince of the Northern Empire.

Four: Tommy was the missing prince.

Five: Dream was awake, and would be coming up the stairs momentarily.

“Tommy?”

Speaking of.

“Y-yeah! I’m up!” Tommy called back, stuffing the trinkets from the previous day into his satchel and sliding it under the bed. Footsteps on the stairs. Tommy tried to pretend like his heart wasn’t racing. Like he wasn’t having trouble breathing. Ghostbur was gone again.

A knock at the door. Tommy would get it over with – he opened it himself.

In the doorway stood Dream, the same way Tommy had always known him: green, hooded tunic, black trousers, sandy brown hair, white, ever-smiling porcelain mask. They were the same height, Tommy was now noticing. He’d never noticed before. They’d never been eye to eye like this. It took all of his will to not slouch. He took a deep breath and spoke first.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Dream said, the same way you’d greet a cornered animal. Was Tommy a cornered animal? Did he look scared? At this point, he wasn’t sure. He kept his hand on the doorknob. “How did you sleep?”

“S’been better.” Tommy shrugged, not wanting to let any of his exhaustion betray him. His head was spinning from everything Ghostbur had just told him. He had to stay focused. “I just–” he forced himself to say, “I’m sorry ab–”

Dream held up a hand, silencing him.

“We talked about it last night, Tommy,” he said, voice still kind, “It’s in the past now. We can move past this, and it doesn’t have to be a huge thing.” Right. Right, sure. Tommy just found out everything in his life was a lie and that he’d been kidnapped by the man standing in front of him, but it didn’t have to be a huge thing. “Today can be a day off. Resume your training tomorrow. Get you back to your regular self.” Tommy nodded slowly, mulling it over. It wouldn’t work. He knew it wouldn’t work. Dream tilted his head in the way Tommy had long-since learned was his approximation of a smile. “We’ll do whatever you want, today. Let you recuperate. You’ll be able to control yourself better that way.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t want you setting anything on fire by accident. I’m still amazed you didn’t wreck anything else while you were out there.”

Tommy froze, swallowing the anxious lump in his throat. He laughed nervously, trying to match Dream’s casual stance.

“But that’s all– that’s behind us now. Right?”

“Right, right. Of course.” Dream waved his hand dismissively, nothing aggressive in his posture. He was probably safe. There was probably nothing to worry about right now.

…Was it really that miraculous that he hadn’t destroyed anything else? The dam, that had been an accident, and a pretty shitty one at that, and he had been super stressed out. He had been stressed out and kind of terrified, and he’d lost control. But yesterday… yesterday had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t been stressed out. He hadn’t been scared. He had been happy, he had a good time, he was having fun. There were moments of anxiety, sure, but he wasn’t scared.

Had it been that big of a miracle that nothing else got destroyed?

…Had it been because he hadn’t been with Dream?

It had just been him and Ghostbur and- and Ranboo, he’d been there with Ranboo, and even if Ranboo had betrayed him, they’d still had a good time. They’d still had fun. Two days ago, where had he been? He was in the main room, getting scolded for acting childish, being told that Ghostbur wasn’t real, being forced to burn the stuff Ghostbur had helped him make. He had been frustrated, angry, humiliated. He had been– anxious. About Dream coming home early. It was because of Dream. It was because of Dream and his empty promises and his stupid, condescending voice. It was because of Dream and how he kept Tommy locked up like this, like a caged goddamn animal, how he kept saying next year, next year, when he really meant never. It was because of Dream and how fucking scared Tommy was whenever he’d get angry, and how fucking relieved he’d be once Dream said he was forgiven. It was because of Dream, and how he’d fucking kidnapped Tommy as a child.

It was because of Dream.

It was always because of Dream.

“–mmy? Tommy?” He blinked, shaking his head. Dream was standing in front of him, leaning down to look up at him, waving a hand in his face. The doorknob was hot under his grip. Dream stood back up, shoulders relaxed. “There you are. You zoned out on me for a second. Back now?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed again, forcing his building anger down. “I’m back.”

“Good! Great.” Smiling tone of voice. Dream didn’t know anything was off. Good. Tommy could keep it that way for another few moments. “Do you want me to make you some breakfast? Whatever you want.”

“…Sure.”

Dream turned and went down the stairs; Tommy didn’t follow. Not… not yet. He needed a plan. He needed a plan, he needed to gather his things again, he needed to get out. He needed to get back to the kingdom, to get back to Technoblade, to find Ranboo, to do something. To meet Tubbo. What could he grab quickly? What could he take with him? It’d all have to go in his satchel, the one under his bed. It was still hidden, it’d be fine! It’d be fine, right? Right. Right. It would have to be.

“You coming?” Dream said from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yeah, right, sorry,” is what Tommy would have said if he were any less of an impulsive bastard. If he had a sense of self-preservation, perhaps. Instead, what he said was, “When were you going to tell me that I’m the lost prince?”

Dream stilled. Tommy’s heart stopped. He’d just said that. He’d just said that. He hadn’t had time to plan.

Well.

No going back now.

“What?” Dream said, “Tommy, what are you talking about?”

“I’m the lost prince of the kingdom, Dream.” He steeled himself for whatever was to come. “When. Were you going. To tell me?”

But Dream didn’t run up and try to fight him. He didn’t try to attack Tommy for knowing the truth. He just let his shoulders slump, his head falling back with a dramatic sigh.

“Come on,” he groaned, “Gods, Tommy. You want me to think you’re mature, and then you keep doing stuff like this.” Tommy felt his face flush in embarrassment. “You always do this. You always find a new reason to hate me. First, it’s because I tell you that you’re too old to have an imaginary friend, then it’s because you think you’re mature enough to go out, and now you’ve convinced yourself that you’re the prince of an entire kingdom? And you wonder why I haven’t let you out? It’s because of this! It’s because of the shit you pull all the fucking time!” He was coming back up the stairs. Tommy took several steps back, heart racing. He had to stand his ground, despite how his brain was screaming for him to run. “You spend one day in that city and somehow convince yourself you’re its prince? It’s a new one, I’ll give you that. It’s a new low, too. Lower than running away, even.” Dream shook his head, now at the top of the stairs. Tommy could feel the disdain radiating off him. “Every time I think you’re almost ready, you pull this shit. You make something up and decide you hate me, and it just makes me see how not prepared to leave you actually are! You’re too immature! You never listen! If you would just listen, then maybe I’d let you out, but no–”

No. No, Tommy knew better. He knew this wasn’t right.

“What does me being immature have to do with the fact that you kidnapped me, Dream?” he said, voice as low and dangerous as he could make it, “What does me being immature have to do with the fact that you killed Wilbur? What does me being immature have to do with the fact that you cursed Technoblade? What does me being immature have to do with the fact that my compass matched the one pointing to the other prince? Fucking tell me that.”

“Oh, you mean the compass you lost?” Dream snapped, “The one you were stupid enough to give to that thief? Because you thought he was your friend?” He scoffed, almost certainly rolling his eyes under the mask. “Some friend he turned out to be.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“I did this for you, Tommy. This has always been for you.” Dream’s voice had gone soft again, almost pitying. It left a terrible taste in Tommy’s mouth. “When I heard that you had been displaying powers, I knew I had to be the one to train you. I had been an apothecary, I knew what the Sundrop could do and knew that if it fell into the wrong hands, it could be used for unspeakable evils. I knew I had to protect you. I- I had an audience with the king and he took me on as a court sorcerer. I was your tutor, Tommy, I always have been.” He took a deep breath, like the memory pained him. “And I didn’t kill Wilbur. I’d– I never could have killed him. He was–” Dream shook his head, letting out a sad chuckle. “–one of my best students. When the group that attacked – rogue mages, I think – I did everything I could to save him but- but it wasn’t enough. They were the ones who killed him, they were the ones to curse–” He faltered. A slip in the lie. “–what did you call him? Technoblade? I wasn’t the one to curse him, they were. They took you and– shit, I only just managed to get you away from them! They were going to use you, they were going to do gods know what, and–”

“Then why didn’t you bring me back to the palace once I was safe?” Tommy interrupted. There were too many holes in the story, too many leaps in logic. “If you were in such good standing with the kingdom, why didn’t you bring me back? Why couldn’t you break Techno’s curse?” He was picking up steam. He took a step forward, then another.

“Tommy, I–”

“If you didn’t kill Wilbur, why was Ghostbur so fuckin’ afraid of you? And if you were such an amazing sorcerer, why couldn’t you save him?” Another step.

“The Sundrop was gone, I couldn’t–” Dream took a step back.

“They grow Sundrops in the city. They took seeds from the first flower. The apothecaries in the city sell the nectar. If you were such a trusted apothecary, why didn’t you have any?” Another step forward.

“It’s- It’s not the same, it isn’t as strong, the effect is–” Another step back, down, onto the top stair. From the landing, Tommy was taller than him.

“You always said people were going to use me,” Tommy said, glowering down at him, “when you’re the one who had been using me the entire time! All because you weren’t bloody smart enough to replant one fuckin’ flower? And you can’t even fuckin’ deny that you kidnapped me!” He snarled, disgusted with the man in front of him. He stormed down the stairs, shoving Dream out of the way, leaving his mentor’s tunic slightly singed.

“There’s no way to replace the Sundrop, Tommy!” Dream protested, following him down, “The seeds – they’re so much weaker than the original. If you were in my place, you’d understand! I needed the Sundrop! And I need you!”

“Are you kidding me?” Tommy started grabbing things from around the lower floor, intent on bringing them with him. “Yeah, maybe I’d understand, but I wouldn’t kidnap a bloody child over it!” He needed to get out of here. He needed to leave. “You’re fuckin’ pathetic, Dream. Had to kidnap a child to, what? Be able to heal really good? To keep yourself young? Maybe that’s why you wear that mask all the fuckin’ time, ‘cause you’re all old and ugly underneath.” Did Dream have a map of the forest? That would make everything much easier.

“What are you doing?” Dream was standing right behind him.

“What’s it fuckin’ look like, bitchboy. I’m leaving.” Tommy didn’t even look at him, going back towards the stairs.

“You’re leaving. Right.” Gods, he hated when Dream used that tone. Condescending self-entitled skeptical fuckin’ dick. “And where will you go?”

 “The castle.” He started up the stairs, nearly stomping. “And I’ll find Ranboo, and we’ll–”

“Ranboo? The thief? The one they’re probably about to execute right now?” Tommy’s blood froze.

“What.”

Dream scoffed, “Come on, Tommy. You saw those wanted posters. He was to be executed, king’s orders.”

“But–” No, that wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. “But Techno said he’d–”

“They’re going to kill him, Tommy. And that’ll be that. The royals certainly won’t believe you. There won’t be anywhere for you to go. This is the best place for you. Stay. You know it’s right.”

Tommy felt his fear melt, felt it turn back into rage, into determination. He had to get out of here. He was getting out of here, he’d save Ranboo even if it fucking killed him. There were people out there who would take him in. He had a family. He had a twin, for fuck’s sake! And even then, he could– the tavern, he could go back to the tavern, he could go to Niki. There were places for him to go. There was a life for him outside of this tower.

“No!” he said, “It’s not. It’s not, and we both know it. You’re horrible, you know that? You’re fuckin’ horrible, man. I can’t believe I let you control me for this long. This is the best place for me? Fuck no.” Maybe a few weeks ago, he would have believed it. Maybe a few weeks ago, he would have stayed. “I’ve– seen. What’s out there, Dream. So I can say this with the fullest fuckin’ authority. Anywhere would be better than here. I’m fuckin’ leaving.”

Tommy ran the rest of the way up the stairs, ignoring Dream’s shouting. He slammed the door behind him, grabbing his satchel from under the bed and stuffing everything from downstairs into it. He’d need clothes, he’d need supplies, fuck. Ghostbur was sitting on the bed again.

“Are we going to go?”

“As soon as fuckin’ possible,” Tommy muttered. Ghostbur clapped his hands, doing a delighted mid-air flip. Tommy looked up from his packing to see the ghost beaming back.

Behind him, the bedroom door slammed open. Ghostbur’s expression turned to that of pure fear, and he vanished. He barely had time to turn around before the bottle of purple-grey liquid smashed on the ground next to him. The vapor smelled chemical, cloying, almost sweet enough to cover the scent of rot underneath. The last thing he saw was Dream staring down at him, mask in the same crude, sinister smile it always had been.

Techno was pretty tall. He considered himself a quick walker. He hated being late to anything, and hated wasting time. If something took too long, he had a tendency to get up and leave, or do it himself. It took less than ten minutes for him to get to the prison.

Every second was agonizing.

The courtyard was empty. Good. Good. There was still time. Ranboo wasn’t dead yet. 

Unless they’ve already done it, said a traitorous part of Techno’s mind, Unless they’ve already taken him away. 

“Shut up,” Techno muttered, pushing past a messenger. His reputation around the kingdom was definitely going to get worse. Glowing eyes, steam from the nostrils, threw a serving girl halfway across a room to get her out of the way, has hooves now, cracked the stone floor on the way there. They’ll probably say he killed a guard. 

There. The door to the secondary cells. Two guards in front of it. Both of them stood at attention as Techno drew near, and he tried to not revel too much in how intimidated they looked. It definitely wasn’t satisfying, certainly not. 

“Where,” he said lowly, “is the thief bein’ held?”

They unlocked the door. He took the keys for good measure.

Of course, they had to put the kid in the cell closest to the courtyard door. The one closest to the gallows. Kid was probably terrified out of his mind. Techno’s hands shook as he fumbled with the lock, the keys clanging together in the worst way. The sound grated on Techno’s nerves like a hot poker prodding his brain, sharp and copper-tasting. The quiet chirps coming from inside the cell were infinitely more concerning; he tried to work faster.

Logically, there wasn’t any danger anymore. Logically, Techno had made it, and Ranboo was not about to be executed. There were other issues at play, but Ranboo wasn’t going to die in the next twenty minutes. That was the part that mattered, and it wasn’t happening, but every single part of Techno was still poised for danger, for a knife through the back or a shove to the side. 

Finally, the lock turned. Techno wrenched the door open, letting it slam against the wall. From inside the cell, a panicked screech. Shit, shit, fuck. Where– the kid was nearly seven feet tall where could he–

Another warble from the corner of the room. There, back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, arms covering his head, was Ranboo, huddled as small as he could go. Techno swore under his breath and rushed over, dropping the keys in his haste. The kid was trembling and recoiled at the clatter of metal on stone. Gods, Techno was the fucking worst, he should have stayed with them. He should have kept a better eye on them, he should have made sure the word had gone out to all the guards himself, he should have brought them to the castle, he should have known better. Fuck.

He knelt down beside the kid, forcing himself to remain calm. One step at a time.

“Ranboo?” Techno kept his voice soft; the kid flinched, curling in tighter. “I’m gonna assume y’can’t really hear me right now.” No response. Yeah, that tracked. With a sigh, he unclasped his cloak, wrapping it around Ranboo’s shoulders. “You’re alright,” he said gently, “You’re okay.” I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. This shouldn’t have happened. “Take a deep breath for me. In, out.” The weight of the cloak was helping. Ranboo started to relax, still trembling, but he was following Techno’s instructions between anxious chirps and warbles. Progress. Okay. Okay. “There you go, that’s it. I, uh, I know talkin’ can help for calmin’ down, hearin’s someone just sorta ramble a little bit? Gets you back into the real world or– and–” Gods, he was terrible at this. “You– y’probably can’t hear me but I–” He let his voice drop a little quieter. “I’m sorry? M’sorry I didn’t know an’ that I wasn’t here sooner. You’re alright, that’s, uh.” Techno chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That doesn’t mean much when you definitely have some new trauma or whatever, but it’ll– in a few years. It’ll be a pretty cool story in a few years, probably. Tell it to all your friends.” The kid’s breathing had evened out almost completely, arms no longer protecting his head. “And- and I’ll take you on whatever a-adventure you want, some kind of crazy sh– stuff, somethin’ stupid that usually shouldn’t work and then it suddenly does, because you got that fairy-tale hero thing goin’ on, stuff just works for you and it’ll–”

Ranboo let out a shaky breath that Techno, if he didn’t know any better, might have called a laugh.

“⌇⊑⎍⏁ ⎍⌿, ⏁⟒☊⊑⋏⍜,” he chirruped, voice thick. Techno blinked in surprise, raising an eyebrow.

“⊬⍜⎍ ⎅⍜⋏'⏁ ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⋔⟒ ⍀⏃⋔⏚⌰⟟⋏☌?” he trilled back. That earned him another weak chuckle. The kid pulled the cloak around himself more tightly, finally looking up. Not at him, necessarily, not making eye contact, but up. Ranboo wiped his eyes, hissing under his breath, but that could be dealt with in a moment.

“Your–” He coughed, clearing his throat. “Your accent is terrible.” 

Thank the gods.

“I don’t get a lot of practice. Nobody to talk to.” Relief flooded through Techno like a broken dam floods an abandoned quarry, sudden and unexpected. He allowed himself to relax, sitting next to Ranboo and resting his back against the wall. The kid scooted the smallest bit closer, leaning his shoulder against Techno’s. “Think you could teach me?”

Ranboo laughed, quiet but genuine.

“On an adventure of my choosing? Sure.”  

They sat in silence, comfortable and recovering. After a few minutes, Techno got up, dusting himself off and offering a hand to Ranboo.

“Think you can stand?” One hand still holding the cloak in place, the kid grabbed Techno’s and pulled himself to his feet. He swayed for a moment; Techno caught and steadied him, doing his best not to fret. Niki would never let him live it down if he started fretting. “C’mon,” he said quietly, “Let’s get you to a healer.”

The walk out of the prison was not the easiest, that slow shuffle almost inherent to the aftermath of panic attacks. Techno kept himself at Ranboo’s side, a guiding arm around his back, blocking the view of the courtyard as best he could. The kid kept his gaze down, feet dragging on each step. They passed a group of guards, who all turned and stared. Ranboo let out a distressed warble, Techno’s arm tightening around him protectively; he’d get a list of everyone who was on duty last night, every guard who turned in a vagrant. He glared right back at them, mouth curled into a snarl, but another noise from Ranboo pulled his attention away. As they got further away, the kid kept glancing over his shoulder, a staticky whine building low in his throat.

“Techno–” he said, words half-warbled, “My- my things, they’re–”

“We’ll get them after,” Techno said, squeezing his shoulder, “Healer first.”

“Healer first,” the kid repeated distantly, still looking behind them. The infirmary wasn’t far. For all his relief, Techno still felt that dread somewhere in his stomach. Something was still wrong, but they would deal with it after.

The head healer intercepted them in the hall, bringing them into the waiting area. Techno barely looked at the other person there, only taking note of their pale blue uniform and turning Ranboo away accordingly. He sat the kid down in a chair, taking the seat next to him and staring at his hands. Fuck, this was his fault. Like everything else, of course, but this time it was definitely his fault. He should have kept a better eye on him.

“D’you want your cloak back?”

“Hm?”

Techno turned to look at him, red-green eyes briefly meeting his before glancing away again. The kid fiddled with the cloak’s golden clasp, making a non-committal hand gesture.

“Thought you’d want it back. It’s your thing.” He was already shrugging it off, the fabric pooling on the chair as it fell from his shoulders. Techno was finally able to fully see his face – burn-like patches of red against white and green against black, tear tracks seared into his skin, faint bruising on his chin. He could see darker, heavier bruises on his wrists, likely from whatever irons they put him in. There was that rage again, building in Techno’s chest.

“Ranboo?” It was the other person in the waiting room, the guard. “Oh my gods, are you okay?”

Techno felt himself move to shield Ranboo, blocking him from sight, before realizing who was there. The guard, a woman with ram horns and a ponytail of fluffy white hair was crossing the room towards them, concern written all over her face. Techno got out of the way, almost embarrassed.

“Captain,” he said, nodding to her. She snorted, punching his shoulder lightly.

“You can call me by my name, Techno,” she teased, “Or, should I call you my liege, since we’re acting so formal?” Techno rolled his eyes, letting himself relax more.

“Puffy! Hey.” Ranboo perked up, smiling, though Techno didn’t miss his little pained wince. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for my squire, but–”

“Oh! How’s Foolish doing?” he interrupted, still upbeat.

“He’s– fine, Ranboo, but–”

“That’s good, that’s good.”

“Ranboo,” she said firmly, making him shut up, “Ranboo. I know what you’re doing. What happened?”

“Well, uh.” He glanced at Techno sheepishly, then back to Puffy, wringing his hands. “I– uh. I don’t remember?” Techno and Puffy exchanged a doubtful glance. “I mean– I remember some of it. But not all of it. I, uh, I got arrested? Someone recognized me, and they arrested me. W-which, y’know, makes sense! Wanted man, and all.” He laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “And I kinda freaked out, like, several times. I’m surprised they didn’t charge me with resisting arrest.”

“You’re pardoned from all of it,” Techno said brusquely, “What happened after you got arrested?”

“I don’t really remember. They–” He chirped, shifting uncomfortably. “They took my memory book. And I tried to– I tried to tell them what I was doing, and that– y’know, that I knew you, Techno, but they wouldn’t listen, and they kept, uh. Staring at me and making me make eye contact? And laughing about it.”

“What about the–” Techno gestured at his face. Ranboo had similar burns on his hands, he was now noticing.

“Oh, they were flicking water at me.” Ranboo touched one of the larger spots on his face, hissing as his finger came away bloody.

“They what?!” Techno and Puffy exclaimed, worry morphing into outrage in an instant. Ranboo ducked his head, shrugging again.

“I- I mean,” he said, “they didn’t think anyone would know? They didn’t think I’d tell anyone, they were gonna kill me as soon as they could!” Techno got to his feet, raking a hand through his hair and starting to pace.

“Puffy,” he said flatly, tone barely masking his anger, “When you get the chance, can you check last night’s roster and arrest logs.”

“Of course, Techno,” she replied, equally, eerily neutral, “I’ll do that as soon as Foolish is out.”

Puffy’s squire was released a few minutes later, giving Ranboo an enthusiastic wave as he left. She nodded to Techno, eyes hard and determined. She would take care of it. He could trust that. A healer came out a moment after, asking Ranboo a few questions and eventually giving him a salve for the bruises, a topical healing potion for the burns, and a glass of water for the headache. The healer bustled away as the wounds healed, leaving Techno and Ranboo alone again.

“…Do you remember what happened before you got arrested?” Techno asked carefully.

“I was– Tommy and I were in the boats, and he…” Ranboo bit his lip, brow furrowing. “He was dizzy, so we went to the shore. And he– went into the woods, but sounded r-really weird when he came out? And then he–” The kid’s eyes went wide, suddenly frantic. “I got attacked. They took him. Someone took him, someone took him, I think it was–”

“Dream, shit, fuck,” Techno swore, raking his hand through his hair again. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, dread acidic.

“We– Techno, my things. We have to get my things.” Ranboo stood up, putting the now-empty glass down, hands shaking. “He– Techno, he had the compass. The one to– that–” He had it. Tommy had the other compass. Tommy was– “And he gave it to me. It’s- it’s with my things, it’s with my things, he gave it to me, we can find him.” The dread turned to fire, white hot and righteous. They could find him. They could get there.

“We’ll– we’re goin’ to need allies, but–”

“Niki,” Ranboo said, “And everyone else at the bar.”

They raced back to the prison, pushing past anyone who tried to get in their way. The guards hadn’t had a chance to go through Ranboo’s things yet, hadn’t had a chance to throw it out or burn it, and there. There it was. The compass. Purple-blue-grey, dull shine, needle pointing towards the forest, the words Your Tommy engraved on the back.

They needed horses. They needed to go. Techno wasn’t going to lose his brother again. He wasn’t going to be late, not this time.

They were getting Tommy back, and they were getting him back today.

Techno was gone again. He had stormed out during breakfast and hadn’t said goodbye.

From the balcony, Tubbo saw two figures on horseback racing across the bridge, away from the city gates. Sunlight caught on long, pink hair and a flowing red cloak. With a sigh, he turned away and went back inside.

There was another adventure to go on. There was always another adventure to go on.

At this point, Tubbo couldn’t be angry anymore. He understood. Even after everything Techno had said, he was still leaving. It must be important. As important as everything else he ran off to do.

Tubbo couldn’t be angry anymore. He didn’t have the energy for it. At this point, all he could be was disappointed, and a little more than lonely.

He wished Tommy were here. He’d been wishing that for the last ten years. He needed to move on. It was childish of him to keep holding on like this. He’d given up on wanting Wilbur back forever ago. He needed to let go of Tommy, too.

Maybe making the festival feel like any other day would be good for him. Maybe the disappointment would harden into resentment. Maybe Techno deserved it.

He returned to his chambers, and went back to sleep.

“Anything else?”

“Essentials, mostly. Stuff to keep him alive. Food, whatever. We can come back for the rest later.”

“Are you sure? I– I mean, we could always just ward the place? Make it invisible?”

“He’d get out, Ant. I can’t risk that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Ant, Dream. They’re getting close.” Sapnap, perched on the windowsill, had his bow drawn, the arrow pointing at the tunnel entrance. In the corner, Tommy stirred. Ant passed Dream another weakness potion.

“I’m going to go. Use that if you need.”

“Of course.”

Ant turned to go.

“Ant?”

“Yeah?”

A beat.

“Don’t go easy on them.”

Ranboo knew where the compass would lead. He knew it would lead him to the ivy-covered cliff, to the valley, to the tower with the boy inside, to Tommy. He knew as they raced to Niki’s, he knew when they thundered into the forest, he knew as they approached the cliffside. His memory may not be good, but this was something he would not forget.

(The tavern had been busy. The lunch rush was dying down, but there were still plenty of people around. Techno had nearly kicked the door open.

“Niki!” 

Ranboo had kept his hood up, but he knew there were eyes on him. 

“Techno?” She had been in the middle of wiping down the bar. “What’s going on?”)

People who had wanted to turn Ranboo in for ransom money not two days before were taking out knives and swords and hacking through the ivy. The tunnel was empty. There was no noise from the other side.

(“Blond kid from yesterday. He’s been kidnapped.”

“What?” She was already drawing her sabre from under the bar.

“I’ll tell you the rest later, we just need backup.”)

He didn’t even know all of their names. Ranboo didn’t know their names, they didn’t know his name, and they barely knew Tommy, but they were willing to help. To risk their lives for some kid who gave, what, an inspirational speech yesterday? Even if Tommy had been entirely bluffing, here they all were, and they were all ready to help him. If Ranboo wasn’t panicking, it might have warmed his heart. He’d remember to thank them all later.

“Quiet, now,” Techno said lowly, holding an arm out to stop the crowd. The other side of the tunnel wasn’t very far. Just one more curtain of ivy, and they’d be at the base of the tower. Techno parted the curtain slowly with a hand, other firmly on his loaded crossbow. He gestured for everyone to follow.

Weapons drawn, they crept through the tunnel and into the small valley. Ranboo had his knife in hand; he felt woefully underprepared. This felt like a bad idea. The group spread out, tense and ready to spring.

The valley was too quiet.

A flicker of movement above the tunnel entrance. A shimmer somewhere to the left. Was Ranboo being paranoid? He thought he had heard a bow drawing back. That had to be one of the group, right? The valley was empty, silent.

Until an arrow hit Jack’s shoulder.

The clang of flinted arrowhead on Jack’s metal arm startled them all out of their quiet. There was an archer in the trees, a cat-person on the cliffs above them, a man with an unnatural aura to him flitting around, and a demon. A nine foot tall demon, who was charging at Techno with an axe. 

Pandemonium. Niki was shouting commands, Techno fired his crossbow, arrows hit shields, people yelled in shock or pain. Ranboo dove out of the way as the demon ran at Techno, axe meeting the prince’s sword with a ringing clash of metal. He grinned wickedly, even as Techno pushed back against him and attacked. 

“Ranboo! Go!” Techno snarled, lunging at the demon again. Ranboo dashed towards the base of the tower, grabbing the two crossbow bolts from his belt to climb with. Just a few more feet. Just a few more, and he could–

“George! Don’t let him get away!”

A man with large tinted goggles appeared suddenly, making Ranboo skid to a halt.

“No, you don’t,” he said, blank eyes glittering behind the lenses. Ranboo knew that voice. Where did he– George made a swipe at him, growling as the teen dodged. Ranboo took the moment of distraction to focus, focus, just long enough, and–

In a burst of purple particles, he vanished, reappearing at the base of the tower. From behind him, George shouted in frustration. Ranboo started to climb. 

From up here, he could see the whole battle. The cat-person threw a bottle at Karl; Niki slashed at the cat with her sword. George flitted around, distracting Schlatt and Connor. Jack fired another bolt into the trees, the archer dropping from his perch and running away. Techno was still trading blows with the demon. It was impossible to tell who was winning. From up here, Ranboo didn’t know if he should be worried.

He hefted himself up onto the window ledge, looking at the room in front of him. Furniture had been moved around, things were burnt, and there, at the bottom of the stairs, was Tommy, hands bound behind him, eyes wide. 

“Ranboo?”

“Tommy, we–”

“No, no, nononono–” Tommy shook his head frantically, struggling against his binds. “You shouldn’t be here, you–”

“He’s right, y’know. You shouldn’t be here.” From Ranboo’s side, far too close for comfort, a voice. A condescending, playful tenor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mask of pure white, a smile carved over top.

“Dream, don’t–!” 

Ranboo didn’t know that this was what getting stabbed felt like. He experienced a variety of weird pain over the last few days: slamming into a roof from that failed jump, the prickling sensation of water on his skin as it starts to burn, getting knocked out, that awful feeling of people staring at him, Crumb beaning him in the forehead with a piece of chalk, getting arrested and tormented, all of it. Most of those had been, in retrospect, minor abrasions. Flesh wounds. The bruises were kind of deep, but Tommy had healed him, so they weren’t an issue. The worst part of a lot of those had been the mental aspect.

Getting stabbed was something very different. Getting stabbed was like all the pain of getting held in water concentrated in one spot. It was like being stared at by every person in the world, all at once. His vision swam; he swayed on his feet. In front of him, a glint of metal. 

Oh. Dream had taken his knife. Okay.

He touched his stomach with one hand, the pressure sending another bolt of pain through him. He fell to his knees, half-collapsing against the tower wall. Huh. Dream managed to stab only the green side. Weird.

Distantly, Tommy was yelling. Ranboo just hoped Techno was doing alright.

Chapter Text

When Tommy woke up, he knew things weren’t going his way. His wrists were bound, there was a cloth gag in his mouth, and he was sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a fucking terrible headache. He could see Dream bustling around the kitchen, stuffing things into a bag and barking directions at someone outside. Panic filled his chest as Dream turned around, noticing that Tommy was awake.

“Shit,” he said, shaking his head. Maybe it was just that Tommy’s vision was still cloudy from sleep, but something about Dream looked wrong. His cloak and mask stood out most clearly; everything else seemed slightly out of focus. “You weren’t supposed to wake up yet.”

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as the valley suddenly fell quiet. Dream swore under his breath, checking the window. His shoulders, a tense line of frustration and anger, fell suddenly. Tommy watched as his mentor began to laugh.

“They’re here,” he said, like his luck couldn’t run out. Hands on the windowsill, he laughed harder, hunched over and unable to contain it. “They’re actually here. They actually came! Gods, I’ve never seen anyone so stupid!” He turned to Tommy, moving closer. Tommy tried to pull back, pressing himself back against the wall as Dream loomed. Dream sighed, shaking his head in mocking disbelief. “You must really be something, huh? For them to all want to come help you.” He glanced out the window casually. There was a clang of something against metal, a shout, chaos. Dream snorted, gaze returning to Tommy. “Doesn’t matter, though. They’re not gonna win. It’s a shame, really. That you’re causing all this.” 

Tommy needed to think. He needed to help them. He couldn’t be fucking stuck here while Dream monologued at him, and he didn’t need to hear anymore of his mentor’s fucking bullshit. Cuffs around his wrists. He had to get this gag out. He had to focus. 

“You’re the one they’re coming to get, after all,” Dream continued, “They’re all coming here because of you. That means they’ll die because of you. So, really, it is your fault. Your brother died for you, your little thief friend is dead because of you, and now all these people are going to die for you, too. It’s astounding. All of this, for some out of control brat.” 

From outside, the sound of something on stone. Steady, like someone was climbing.

Someone was climbing up.

Dream made a delighted noise, taking his place in the same hiding spot beside the window that Tommy had taken forever ago. The gag finally came loose. The cuffs were starting to warm up, the metal softening slowly. He tested the binds, feeling the iron almost yield. 

“You’re fuckin’ sick, you know that?” Tommy said, glaring daggers at his once-guardian, “Killing people and telling a kid it’s his fault. Fuckin’ sick, man.”

“I’m a pragmatist, Tommy.” Dream shook his head, spreading his hands. “I do what I need to in order to survive. Surely, you can understand that.” The sounds of something being stuck between the tower’s stones was getting louder. The person was getting closer. Dream pressed himself against the wall, almost fully in shadow. Tommy tested the cuffs again – looser, but not loose enough.

A jet black hand, wearing a fingerless climbing glove and clutching a crossbow bolt, gripped the window ledge. Tommy’s breath caught in his throat. He watched as Ranboo – wait, Ranboo? – hefted himself over the window and into the room. A conflicting wave of emotions crashed over Tommy. Ranboo was alive – elation. He hadn’t betrayed Tommy – relief. He and Techno came to save him – something more than relief. He hadn’t noticed Dream – dread. 

“Ranboo?” he said, eyes going wide. The older teen took a few steps forward. He looked like he’d been through some kind of hell, harried, hair askew and eyes worried.

“Tommy, we–”

Dream was slinking through the shadows, plucking the knife from Ranboo’s belt. Tommy’s heart dropped.

“No, no, nononono–” The metal was almost hot enough to bend, just a little more, just a little more, he had to concentrate. Ranboo was right here and was about to be stabbed, fuck, fuck, he had to get out. “You shouldn’t be here, you–”

“He’s right, y’know. You shouldn’t be here.” Ranboo flicked his gaze to the side, breath hitching in surprise. He spotted Dream. He did not spot the missing knife. Tommy struggled against the cuffs, feeling the metal bend, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Dream, don’t–!” he shouted. It didn’t matter, though. With Dream, nothing he said ever mattered. It would have happened either way. Nothing Tommy could have said would have stopped it; Dream drove the knife into Ranboo’s side, a gout of green blood following the blade as he pulled it out again. Tommy watched as his friend fell to his knees, hand pressed against the wound, bright green starting to stain his white shirt. He collapsed against the wall, breathing turned shallow.

No.

No, this can’t be happening.

Tommy won’t let this happen.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” he yelled. The cuffs were almost loose enough. Just a little more, just a little more. Dream looked up from where he was cleaning the dagger with the hem of his tunic. The blood was the same color as the fabric. It was like he was wiping away water.

“Hm?” He cocked his head to the side. Tommy’s blood boiled. 

“Don’t you hmmmm me, dickhead!” Dream snorted, sticking the knife in his own belt. “You fuckin’ bastard, this is all you do! Every time I have something good in my life, it’s your fuckin’ job to take it away!”

“It is my job, in a way. It’s a consequence, Tommy.” Dream shrugged. “You should have known that something would happen because of your stunts. You can’t put all this blame on me when it’s always your fault.”

When Tommy was eleven, a crow with a broken wing flew into the tower and could not get out. Gaining its trust had been tricky, but he was eventually able to convince it to let him touch it. He had just been getting the hang of healing; he had focused everything he could and fixed the bird’s wing. It had stayed in the tower for a few days after, bringing him trinkets in exchange for food. When Dream had come back, Tommy showed him the bird, showed him the things it brought and the fixed wing. He had wanted Dream to be proud. His mentor took to provoking him, instead, making him more and more frustrated and angry until he snapped. The crow got caught in the crossfire. It flew off, injured, and never returned. You should have been in control, Tommy. This was your fault, was what Dream had said. It’s your fault that you lost your friend. It was always his fault.

The cuffs were loose enough.

Tommy pulled his hands free, throwing them aside. The metal, glowing orange, left a scorch on the floor as it fell. He ran to his friend’s side, frantically looking him over.

“Ranboo? Can you hear me?” Ranboo blinked, hazy eyes focusing on Tommy. He, of all things, smiled.

“You’re not dead. That’s awesome,” he said, voice weak. He tried to sit up, wincing in pain, and pressed his hand to the wound again. “That’s… that’s not awesome.”

“You’re fine, you’re going to be fine, you’re fine,” Tommy said quickly, “As if this fuckin’ moron could hurt you, you know? It’ll be fine, just– I’ll– we’ll heal you up and get Techno and it’ll be alright!” He was starting to sound hysterical. A hand grabbed the back of his shirt, starting to yank him back.

“Now, Tommy, come on, that wasn’t very nice–” Tommy wrenched his shoulder away; under his breath, Dream let out a growl. “Come on, Tommy.” His voice was like ice. “Don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

“And you didn’t have to stab him!” He couldn’t focus. He had to focus, he needed to fix this–

“I did. I did have to, actually.” Dream scoffed, reaching for Tommy again. “It’s the only way you’d listen–” 

Tommy was done listening. He’d tried. He’d fucking tried, but he was done. Ten years’ worth of frustration and anger and hurt roiled through him, the aura around him glowing brighter and brighter. Dream grabbed his shoulder. 

Don’t you dare fucking touch me.

A flash. A rush of energy. Dream’s hand left his shoulder. Something – some one – crashing into the stairs. Tommy could worry about that later. Right now, he needed to focus on his friend. He needed to focus, he needed to–

Wilbur woke up.

He had not been awake for a very long time. He felt solid, real, like the ground was firmly under his feet and the air was squarely in his lungs. He didn’t think it needed to be in his lungs, but it was nice to breathe either way. Not that things were necessarily good, at the moment.

He took a moment to survey his surroundings – room, in a tower, high up, late midday. There was a battle going on outside. Tommy was behind him, separated by a translucent, glimmering wall of golden energy, kneeling beside a prone figure. He was speaking, his tone hushed and quiet. In front of him, a slightly indistinct person with a forest green cloak and white, smiling mask was standing up from the stairs. The room smelled like blood.

It had smelled like blood when he died. Died? No, yeah, died. He had died trying to protect Tommy, hadn’t he? He had been protecting Tommy from– 

“I knew there was a reason I never liked you,” Wilbur said. The masked figure – Dream, Dream, yes, that was his name – dusted himself off superficially, looking Wilbur up and down. 

“If it isn’t the pesky moth I always saw flitting around,” he drawled, stalking a few steps closer, “Or should I call you more of a roach? It would make sense. You Soots never stay dead.” Dream’s form was almost blurry, fuzzed at the edges and hard to focus on. In the golden glow of the wall, he seemed to be made of dense shadows. As he came closer, Wilbur moved to shield Tommy, blocking Dream’s view. Dream tsked, sighing. “We’re going to have to do this like we did it the last time, aren’t we?”

“I’m sure the outcome will be quite different,” Wilbur said, squaring his shoulders. He was never good at hand-to-hand fighting. That was always Techno’s thing, even as a child. Behind him, the prone figure – Ranboo, it had to be Ranboo – was weakly reassuring Tommy that he was fine, that he had dealt with worse. As someone who had been stabbed, Wilbur doubted it.

“Will it?” Dream sneered, rocking back on his heels, “Is it because you don’t have your sword? Don’t have anything I could use against you?”

“Like you used Ranboo’s knife against him?” Wilbur countered. Dream stopped, plucking the knife from his belt and examining it. It was uncanny– the knife was real, but Dream’s hands were indistinct, foggy.

“I suppose I did do that, didn’t I?” He shrugged, light reflecting off the flat of the blade. After a moment, Dream hummed and looked directly at Wilbur before hurling the knife at him with an uncanny speed. Wilbur dodged as the knife flew at him; they both watched as it hit the golden wall and bounced off harmlessly. “So that’s what that’s for,” Dream said, sounding unimpressed. Wilbur got ready for another attack. “No matter. Tommy!” he called. From inside the wall, Tommy flinched but did not look up. “Come on, Tommy. Let me in.” Wilbur stepped to block Dream’s view. “We need to leave all of this behind. It can be like old times, right?”

“Stop fucking talking to him,” Wilbur growled. Dream shifted back, hip cocked to the side, arms crossed. He made another unimpressed noise.

“Ten years, and now you decide to stand up for yourself?”

“I would have ripped you apart with my bare hands if I knew I could,” Wilbur said. He wasn’t sure if Dream was talking to him or Tommy, but it didn’t matter. This was what Wilbur died doing. It was what he’d continue to do.

He matched everything Dream threw at him, every spell he tried to cast and every strike from his bare, fading hands. With every hit, a little more of Dream faded away, the sorcerer’s breathing growing heavier and more labored with each one.

“You don’t know when to give up, do you?” he said, a shadowy hand pushing back shadowy hair. Wilbur didn’t know Dream was talking to, but the words fell on deaf ears. Neither of them were giving up, and Dream wasn’t in a position to make threats either way. Occasionally, the golden wall would flicker, Wilbur feeling some of his clarity slip, but it always came back. He didn’t know how much longer he would last. Tommy couldn’t hold this forever. 

Dream’s mask and cloak were the only solid parts of him anymore. He was the shadow on the wall after a nightmare. He was the masked kidnapper only seen in silhouette. He was getting desperate. The battle outside was dying down. Dream approached the wall, placing a hand against it. 

“Tommy,” he said, voice pained, “Stop this. It doesn’t have to be like this.” The teen hunched his shoulders.

“You know bloody well it does,” Wilbur said, but Dream wasn’t paying attention.

“Please, Tommy. Think about it. All the good times we’ve had.” He tried to press against the wall, but nothing happened. He tried again, meeting resistance. “I’m all you’ve ever had. What are you going to do without me?” The wall didn’t budge. Frustrated, Dream slammed the side of his fist into it. “Do you hear me? Let me in.” Wilbur watched as Tommy flinched again and ignored the command, moving closer to Ranboo. His hands were glowing. “Let me in!” Dream said, pounding against the wall of force again. Over and over, he hit the wall, his voice growing louder. “You’re nothing without me! You’ll never be anything! You need me! I fucking made you what you are! Do you hear me, you ungrateful fucking brat? Let me in!” 

Wilbur had seen enough. He knew the wall wouldn’t last. He shoved Dream out of the way, the other feeling much too light under his hands. It made him wonder which of them was the real ghost. Dream looked weak. From here, Wilbur didn’t know what he had been so afraid of all those years.

“Don’t you dare talk to my little brother like that.” Dream took a step back. Wilbur took one forward. “You’re lucky I hadn’t been able to fight back. You’re lucky I hadn’t been brave enough. You relied so much on one child’s power but never thought about what would happen on the day he decided to stop putting up with your bullshit. Look around you, Dream! Look at what’s happening.” Wilbur spread his arms, gesturing at the tower. “All of this, for what?”

The distinct sound of an arrow sticking between two cobblestones. Someone was climbing the tower. The wall flickered. It would be over soon. All of this would be over soon.

If the situation were any different, Techno would have been happy to have an opponent that could actually match him. It had been such a long time. Between the long hours he’d spent training and the longer hours studying the theories behind battle, he’d become too good. He’d go to tournaments and fighting pits just to feel something, but it never helped. There was never a challenge, there were only winnings and faceless opponents and bruises he’d poke in the morning if anyone ever got a hit on him. More often than not, they didn’t.

He had stayed in networks of inns and became a whispered celebrity. They had only known him as the Blade, that’s all he was to them, and at the time, it was all he had wanted to be. He wasn’t the boy who cried wolf or the reckless prince or the minotaur, the kingdom’s shameful secret, the monster under the bed; he was just the Blade, another faceless competitor with a win streak higher than most people could count and a winning pot even higher. He wasn't wasting anybody's time, he wasn't wasting resources, he was their undefeated champion and, gods, he was tired.

If this guy had been in the pit with Techno, it would have been a challenge. If they’d come across one another in training, it would have been an opportunity to actually test his skills. In another world, this would be exciting. The demon fought with a wicked-looking axe and a persistent grin. He would be terrifying if the thing Techno was most afraid of wasn’t fifty or so feet above them. He had a distinct height advantage, another thing Techno wasn’t used to, and was somehow able to bark commands at the other fighters all the while. If the thing hinging on Techno winning this fight wasn’t his little brother’s life, he might have been having fun.

In a way, it was nice to know he hadn’t lost his edge. He matched the demon’s hits blow for blow, neither faltering and neither drawing blood. The battle around them raged; it was all background noise to Techno. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t fail now. 

His opportunity came in the form of a flaming arrow whizzing past his head, catching on the demon’s hood. Startled and affronted, the demon stopped, dropping his fighter’s stance and glaring up at the treeline.

“Sapnap!” he scolded, “You almost hit me! You’re supposed to–” He was cut off as Techno slashed at him with his sword, slicing a line across his chest. The demon doubled back in shock, sufficiently distracted. Techno struck at him again, knocking the axe from his hand. It would be too heavy to take up the tower with him; Techno would have to leave it. 

Someone in the tower was yelling.

Techno ran for the base, snagging two bolts from his quiver. He was a lot heavier than Ranboo, he didn’t know if it would work.

It would have to do.

The yelling got louder as he climbed, though he wasn’t sure if this was from proximity or actual volume. Down below, the fighting was stopping. Everything was slowing down. Quackity and Karl had the archer guy captured. The pretty, teleporting one was long gone. The cat-guy was up a tree, almost out of potions. Techno kept climbing.

As he reached the top, the yelling stopped. Instead, someone was speaking in a low, threatening voice. It was familiar, somehow. Techno couldn’t place it. He pulled himself over the ledge, the crossbow bolts clattering to the floor. In that split second, Techno tried to take in everything around him.

Ranboo, propped up beside the window and bleeding. Tommy, kneeling beside him, hands glowing, face determined. Dream, little more than a shadow in a mask and cloak, stuck on the other side of a translucent wall of shimmering, golden light and pounding his fists against it. And in the center, Wilbur, standing between Dream and Tommy and slowly turning to face Techno.

For the first time in ten years, Techno stood face-to-face with his older brother.

“Wilb–”

The wall flickered and vanished. Tommy gasped, winded, the glow starting to fade from his hands. Dream stumbled, looking around wildly. His gaze landed directly on Techno, a spike of fear flaring through the prince’s heart. He laughed, sharp and painful-sounding.

“You finally made it,” he sneered, “Here to end what I started? Even when you know you’re no match? You're late. Just like last time.” Techno gritted his teeth. “Icarus, wasn’t it? Looks like you never learned to back down.” Dream started to move.

Wilbur backed up, throwing an arm out to block Tommy from view. He met Techno’s eye over his shoulder, gaze hard.

“Now!”

He had been waiting ten years for this moment. It almost didn’t feel real. Time slowed as Dream lunged, indistinct hands stretched towards Tommy. Techno stepped forward, raising his sword. He swung. The blade cleaved through the mask; the porcelain cracked and split. Dream did not have a face underneath. He didn’t have a body, either. What was left of him swirled, screamed, letting out a millennia of malice and spite and selfishness in a final gasping breath.

The two halves of the mask fell to the floor, followed by a heavy, forest green cloak.

It was over. It was over. Ten fucking years.

It was over.

Everything came back to Tommy at once:

His father’s smile. His mother’s laugh. The house his eldest brother wanted to live in. The stacks of books his middle brother always read. The garden his twin loved so much. His twin. 

He remembered falling down and getting into mischief and running from nannies and giggling behind chairs where they’d definitely never be found. He remembered a preteen-Techno teaching him battle strategy. He remembered Wilbur carrying him around on his shoulders. He remembered listening to Tubbo tell him about what kinds of flowers attracted bees and which kinds were better for butterflies. Fuck. He remembered Tubbo. 

How had he forgotten something – some one – so fundamentally important? He had spent so long wondering why he felt so fucking empty, why he was so lonely if being more or less alone was all he’d ever known. It made sense now, wanting to show someone the bee he had found; he’d been looking for Tubbo. He’d been looking for the person he had shared everything with for the first six years of his life, even if he couldn’t remember him. 

Tommy felt himself sway in place, head spinning. He blinked a few times, the room coming back into focus. In front of him was Ranboo, halfway-conscious and ashen, slumped beside the wall. Beside him, a thud; Technoblade was there, breathing hard. His own hands were faintly glowing and covered in lime green blood. Fuck, fuck, that’s what he was doing. He could barely breathe, could barely focus. Ranboo’s chest rattled. It wasn’t working. He had to focus, he had to focus. He took a deep breath, trying to pull together all his energy. There wasn’t much left. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

“Ranboo? Can you hear me?” Techno’s voice was low and calm, a sharp contrast to his clear adrenaline. Ranboo blinked at him, turning his head a fraction of an inch.

“Hey, Techno,” he said. Techno took a sharp breath, a panicked look in his eye. Ranboo didn’t seem to notice. “S’Dream gone?”

“Yeah. We got him.” Techno’s voice was thick. 

“Mhn, good,” Ranboo hummed. His gaze slowly drifted up past Tommy’s head. “Hey, Ghostbur.”

“Just ‘Wilbur,’” Ghostbur’s voice was less echoey than usual. A hand landed on Tommy’s shoulder. “You’re alright. Just hang on.”

Tommy needed to focus. He pulled together what energy he could, pressing his hands to the wound. Ranboo gave a small chirp of pain, warbling something under his breath. Heart pounding, he poured all the energy he had into healing the injury. The glow, previously dim, flashed bright for a second; the cut closed up, blood no longer freely flowing. 

Ranboo’s breath was still coming in shallow gasps. It didn’t work. Whatever it did, it didn’t work. Tommy’s hands were shaking. He had nothing left. All of that to stabilize him earlier, and it hadn’t worked.

“Techno,” he choked. Techno straightened up, gaze deadly serious. “Upstairs, on the bed. There’s a bag. It’s– it’s got–” 

“On it.” Techno stood in a rush of air, heavy footsteps quickly going up the stairs. Ghostbur’s hand squeezed his shoulder. He could do it. He could do it he had to just keep Ranboo stable for a few more seconds.

“Tommy?” The older teen’s voice was weak.

“Yeah, big man. Right here.”

Ranboo nodded. “Good. You can–” He coughed, green blood flecking his chin. He chirped to himself, unable to wipe it away. “This is bad, huh.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Tommy said, insisted, “Techno’ll be back in a second. You’ll be fine.” 

“Kinda… tired.” His voice was fainter. Tommy knew what was next. It couldn’t happen. It couldn’t, it couldn’t.

“Two more seconds, big man. Hang on.” The damage must be internal. Techno was coming down the stairs, boots like thunder on the wood. Tommy heard the other teen sigh. No, no. 

Techno ran over to them, dropping to his knees. He had the nectar bottle, hands shaking as he tried to remove the stopper. Ranboo’s eyes closed. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing, they needed to hurry. 

“Got it.”

Tommy watched as Techno tilted Ranboo’s face up, pouring the nectar into his mouth. His hands were steady, but his breathing was not. It was the most careful Tommy had ever seen him. 

“Come on. Come on, not again–”

The bottle was empty. Techno sat back. The world held its breath.

A beat.

Another.

Ranboo opened his eyes. He blinked blearily, like he'd just woken up from a nap.

“Tomm–?” 

Tommy pulled him into a crushing hug. 

“You stupid son of a bitch, you can’t fuckin’ scare me like that, all of this and you’re just gonna fuckin’ die, that’s not allowed, holy shit, you–” Ranboo wheezed out a laugh, weakly hugging Tommy back.

“I’m good. I’m good. I’m alright.” Tommy pulled back, wiping his eyes hastily.

“Damn fuckin’ right, you are.” He sniffled, glancing around. “Bitch,” he added, embarrassed. 

The adrenaline was starting to wear off. Outside, the valley was quiet. It was over. Standing, Tommy turned around, surveying the room: blood drying on the floor, the warped, still-cooling handcuffs, Dream’s cloak and m–

Oh. 

Dream’s cloak and mask. 

The mask was in two pieces. Chips of porcelain littered the floor. The cloak, deep, endless green, lay in a formless heap. There was no body. No lingering spirit. This was all that was left of the most powerful sorcerer in the last thousand years. This was all he ever amounted to. Just a piece of broken ceramic, and a couple yards of fabric. Tommy felt faint.

It was really over.

“We should get out of here,” Techno murmured, sheathing his sword, "Tell everyone we're done. Get things packed up." He reached a hand out to Ranboo. “Can you stand?”

People were talking. People were talking to him. They were doing something. Tommy kept staring at the mask. Ranboo was sitting on the windowsill. Techno and Ghostbur were going around and gathering things, probably. Tommy heard footsteps on the stairs, heard plans being made, heard someone calling down to the rest of the group in the valley; all of it was dulled, muted, background noise to the static in Tommy’s ears. 

It was really over.

His throat was tight. His eyes stung. He didn’t– know why. A hand landed on his shoulder; Tommy jumped, taking a few stumbling steps back. Where was he? The– the tower, right? Why were people in the tower? Ghostbur drew back, concerned. There was something off about him, something Tommy couldn’t place. He was tired. He was so, so tired.

“Sorry,” Tommy said distractedly. It sounded like he was underwater. He was tired. Drained. He swayed in place, head spinning, woozy. A concerned voice somewhere in front of him. A yelp as he listed to the side, and crashed into the wall. He fell to his knees, then to the floor. Someone rushed to his side, their tone laced with panic. Tommy caught a glimpse of pink hair before he let his eyes close.

Gods, was he tired.

The sun was a sliver on the horizon, burning scarlet over the water. It would be night soon. Tubbo didn’t feel like sleeping.

They had eaten dinner on the terrace that night. It was nice. All things considered, the day wasn’t horrible. Festival exhaustion and any other difficult feelings notwithstanding, it had been pretty nice. He wasn’t satisfied with the situation by any means, but he could be relaxed. 

The city looked nice at this time of day. The herald’s bell gleamed in the late-day light. The city was largely cast in shadow. The streetlamps flickered and blinked awake. Tubbo watched as small figures crossed the town square, likely going home. Light spilled out as a door opened and a tavern-goer was removed from the establishment. The city gate was opening, a wagon and several people on horseback crossing the bridge. It was late, why were people being let in? He leaned further over the railing, trying to make anything out about the group. The group was heading through the main thoroughfare, towards the castle. Tubbo felt his eyes go wide, his heart leap to his throat.

The dying light caught on long, pink hair and a flowing, red cloak.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke to the sound of people talking – familiar, indistinct voices speaking in a low tone. Everything felt heavy. Even without opening his eyes, which, truth be told, didn’t really feel like a possibility right now, he could tell the room was bright, open. It was probably midday. He shifted, limbs like lead under the blanket. Blanket? Yeah, blanket, he must be in a bed. He started to stretch, muscles stiff. How long had he been out?

“I think he’s waking up,” said one of the voices.

Tommy opened his eyes. He was in an unfamiliar, high-ceilinged room with large windows, two rows of beds lining the walls. The sky outside was clear and blue. The air smelled clean and sterile, faintly floral. He stretched again, yawning widely. It felt like he had been asleep forever. Where was he?

He sat up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and trying to locate the source of the voices. A few beds down, sitting up and very much alive, was Ranboo. He seemed to be in an enthusiastic conversation with the person sitting on the edge of his bed. A door at the end of the hall closed.

The young man he was talking to looked familiar. Tall, slightly translucent, with curly brown hair and a yellow sweater. Light filtered softly through him, like he wasn’t all there. He turned, warm brown eyes going wide as he spotted Tommy.

“You’re up!” Wilbur said, immediately floating towards him. Tommy flinched at the sudden movement; Wilbur stopped short at the side of the bed, hands held up anxiously near his chest. “How…” He glanced towards Ranboo, who gave a thumbs up. “How are you feeling?” 

“...Fine, I think. Tired? Like ‘m heavy,” Tommy said hesitantly, yawning again, “Wil, where a-are we?”

“Hospital,” the spirit said, waving a hand vaguely. Yeah, of course, because Tommy’s been in one of those before. “Well, infirmary, technically. You’ve been asleep for three days. We were starting to get worried.”

Tommy was going to ignore the emotions that made him feel. 

“Worried? About me?” he scoffed instead, “Come on, Wil. You know me. Big man can’t die n’ that.” Wilbur (Wilbur, not Ghostbur, but Wilbur) laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Right, right, of course…” Something in Tommy’s chest sank a little at that, that weird feeling of guilt at making someone worried. Was this going to be something he always had to deal with? That would fucking suck. The ghost still looked sheepish, but they both knew Tommy didn’t mean it. Three days.

“L-Look, Wil, I–”

The doors to the infirmary suddenly burst open, making them all jump. Wilbur abruptly blinked out of view, leaving Tommy with the afterimage of his startled face. Storming down the aisle was Technoblade, cloak streaming behind him, his face full of worry. Tommy could barely blink before Techno was right in front of him, wrapping him in a crushing hug. Tommy wheezed, the breath knocked out of him all at once. Techno pulled back a half-second later, clearing his throat.

“Glad to see you’re up,” he said gruffly, turning away. Tommy coughed for a moment, trying to regain his breath.

“Y-yeah, good to see you, too? Fuckin’ hell, man, warn a guy before–”

Out of the corner of his eye, a flash of brown hair. Tommy sat up a little straighter, finally looking at the other two people who came in behind Techno. The taller of the two was a man with blond hair and a dark green robe. He had a small goatee and was holding a green and white striped hat with both hands. He looked a little older, but was clearly the same man from the back of the pamphlet. His father The king. Tommy had never been in the presence of someone he knew to be royalty.

Beside him stood a boy. He looked about Tommy’s age, short, with dark brown hair and a hastily-thrown-on green shirt. Tommy felt his eyes widen slightly.

The boy from the festival.

That’s what that feeling was, then. That familiarity, that feeling that he knew him, even if they hadn’t met before. 

But they had met before. They had been inseparable for six years.

“...Hi,” Tubbo said, giving an awkward half-wave to match his awkward half-smile.

“Hi.” Tommy’s heart raced, blood nearly replaced by nervous energy. He was too aware of everyone else in the room, everyone staring at him. They could catch up later. They’d have time to catch up later. He grinned crookedly at his brother, his twin. “Miss me?”

Against all odds – and yet, exactly what Tommy had hoped for – Tubbo laughed.

“You bastard,” he said, part chuckle, part sob. His smile was so painfully genuine. “Of course I did.”

They would catch up later.

The king stepped forward. His grip was tight around the hat in his hands, but his eyes and smile were kind. His smile had been one of the first things Tommy remembered. The fact that he was actually seeing it was making him feel something he couldn’t describe. Like his lungs were a little too full, but in a good way. 

“Hey, mate,” the king Phil said, “Scared us a bit, there.”

It felt weird, doing introductions with people you were related to. This was Tommy’s father, his twin brother, his older brother, people he should by all means know, but doesn’t. It felt more like they were distant relatives that he was now living with. It was like he knew what they were instead of who they were. There was something missing, though. An extra piece to all of this that didn’t quite feel right. The family was reunited, the king and his three living sons, but someone was missing.

Of course someone was missing. Someone was dead. They were all laughing and talking now like they had never been apart. Even Techno was allowing himself to smile, which Tommy considered a win. However, someone was missing.

“I, uh,” Tommy started hesitantly; everyone turned to look at him, “There is… something else. That I wanted to tell you all.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the outline of a young man in a yellow sweater looking at him apprehensively. Techno tensed, starting to speak.

“Tommy, I don’t know if–”

“No, no,” interrupted a voice from nowhere in particular, “It’s fine. No use hiding it.” Tommy braced himself for the group’s reaction as Wilbur faded back into view. He looked nervous, but happy to be there. Happy to see everyone. Someone took a sharp breath in. Wilbur waved a slightly translucent hand, somewhere between relieved and resigned. “Hey, dad.”

Icarus, wasn’t it? 

Even after everything, those three words still rang through his head.

Icarus, wasn’t it? 

It didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter. Dream was dead, he was gone, his quest was over. There was no one to avenge. No one to search for. No one to be afraid of. That was supposed to be a relief. It was over. Why did he feel so lost?

Icarus, wasn’t it? 

Icarus had bitten off more than he could chew. He flew too high and had the wind forcibly ripped from his wings. He crashed back down to earth with the sun on his skin and salt in his eyes and drowned surrounded by the evidence of his hubris. 

Technoblade stared at the mirror. His reflection stared back at him. He still had tusks. His ears were still pointed. His nose was still slightly upturned. Dream was dead, and Technoblade was still cursed.

Icarus, wasn’t it?

The taunt was still getting to him. Of course Dream would compare him to the boy who fell. Of course he would compare him to the one who never listened, the one too caught up in his own thoughts to notice how reckless he was becoming.

(A flyer was posted at Niki’s for a new tournament a few towns over. Techno recognized the address as one of the inns he’d fought in before he became a mercenary. One of the ones that had let a despondent teenage prince become its champion and let him stay overnight when he snuck out of the palace. The network owner had been kind to him. The rest of them had not been. He asked her who had put it up. She didn’t know. He took it down when she wasn’t looking, and burned it that night.)

He had known what he was doing. He knew the risks. He took them anyway. He knew he could fight his way out of he had to. He knew what a cornered animal could do when desperate. He always made it back to the palace by morning.

Icarus, wasn’t it? 

He wasn’t. He never was. He was Theseus, the hero, the prince. He had been Theseus, the sacrifice, the exile. He had been the minotaur, the monster, the kingdom’s shameful secret, and he had been the king, locking that beast away. He had been Daedalus, architect of his own misery, but he had never been Icarus. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was getting carried away. He didn’t care, but it didn’t mean he didn’t know. 

He was Theseus. He was going to be Theseus. He had always been Theseus. He had been taken apart and put back together with different parts and he had slain the thing tormenting him and would become king. He was Theseus.

He supposed he was lucky that Dream didn’t throw him from the tower window.

He leaned closer to the mirror, pulling his bottom lip down and examining his tusks. All things considered, he didn’t actually hate them. They suited him in a way. He could make it work. Gold caps on the points for special events, maybe. He could wear the gold glasses to match. Not every ruler could look perfect. He could make it work.

“Techno?”

Right. That was going to take some more getting used to. 

“Hey, Wilbur,” he said over his shoulder, straightening up. In the mirror, he could see the spectral form of his older brother lingering in the doorway. “Didn’t hear you there.”

“I don’t touch the ground, Technoblade,” Wilbur drifted over, stopping just behind Techno. Both of them looked into the mirror; Wilbur sighed. “Did you think it would be different?”

“What?” Techno flicked his gaze up to his brother’s reflection.

“Your revenge. Getting Tommy back. Killing Dream. Did you think it would be different?”

Icarus, wasn’t it? 

He did. Of course he did. It would have been triumphant, it would have been spectacular, it would have been the satisfying thud of a body hitting the floor and the sound of a sword leaving muscle. It would have been the breaking of a curse and the acceptance of duty and the beginning of a new chapter. It would have been a celebration throughout the kingdom.

“I thought he’d bleed,” Techno confessed. He swallowed back his guilt, forcing himself to continue. “I– wanted him to bleed.” It felt horrible to say. It felt cruel. “I wanted him to–” He cut himself off, looking away from the reflection. Wilbur’s hand landed gently on his shoulder.

“Go on.”

“I wanted him to suffer.” 

The silence hung between them like an executioner’s blade. He’d succeeded. He’d defeated the demon haunting his nightmares. He’d killed the person who had kidnapped his brother. He’d rescued his brother, he’d finished his quest, yet here he was.

It was mortifying to admit. 

Techno had never been good at talking to people. He wasn’t good with feelings. He preferred to bottle them all up and let that rage out in a fighting ring somewhere. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t good, period. He fumbled for words, choking around the regret bubbling up in his chest.

“I– Wilbur, I’m– sorry, it’s–”

“No, no.” Wilbur held up a hand, silencing him. His face was serious, solemn, his tone frank. “I’ll be honest with you, Technoblade. I wanted him to suffer, too.” Techno looked up sharply, turning away from the mirror to actually face his brother. In life, Wilbur had been kind, a friendly smile or bit of advice thrown in Techno’s direction when he needed it. He had been fiercely determined and tirelessly loyal, no matter how exhausting things were. He never let his anger show, no matter how much he felt it. Techno’s surprise was clear on his face, judging by Wilbur’s reaction. “I know, I know,” he continued mildly, “How could a ghost do that, how could I do that, really, I get it. But, let’s put it this way.” He waved a hand vaguely. “When you… suddenly remember. Every little thing that someone did to hurt someone you care about? Technoblade…” He shook his head, chuckling mirthlessly. “You’re going to want them to suffer just as much.”

Techno was speechless. It was a lot to process. All of this was a lot to process. Wilbur leaned back in mid-air, hovering like he was in an invisible lounge chair.

“You had ten years to think about all of this. You had ten years of expectations and in the end very few of them were actually met. It’s something you’re just going to have to live with, Tech. Nothing you can do about it now.”

“Then what should I do?” Techno couldn’t stop himself, the words coming out all at once. He kept his gaze down; he couldn’t look his brother in the eye as he spoke. “What should I do, Wilbur? I don’t– fuck, I don’t fuckin’ know what I’m supposed to do with myself. This is– this is the thing I never thought would happen. I never thought I’d get this far. I never thought I’d really find you, I never thought I’d live this long, what am I supposed to do with myself? This is–” He stopped, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Wilbur, this is… all I’ve known. For the last ten years. It’s all I’ve been doin’. I’ve been doin’ revenge so long that I don’t– I don’t know what I’m supposed to do next.”

Wilbur sighed softly; when Techno looked up, he was right in front of him, expression complicated.

“It’s fine,” Techno said, voice thick, wiping his eyes where they weren’t watering, “I don’t want your pity. ‘ll figure it out.”

“You sound like Tommy,” the ghost chided, but there were no edges to it. Techno huffed out a quiet laugh.

“I guess I do.”

Wilbur was surprisingly solid when he hugged Techno; he still felt light, but he was there. He wasn’t warm, but he was there, physical, real. Not alive, he hadn’t been alive in a long, long time. Techno didn’t think he needed that.

“Forgot how fuckin’ tall you were,” he said congestedly; Wilbur laughed softly into his hair.

“You nearly caught up. I’m proud.” Techno would pretend later that that didn’t make his entire chest feel light. He was twenty-fuckin’-four years old, he didn’t need to feel so happy that his older brother was proud of him for being over six foot. “Tommy’s taller, though,” Wilbur mused, “Kid got tall in the last year or two. You think Tubbo’ll ever catch up?” 

“No way. Someone’s gotta take after Phil.”

He’d figure it out. They’d get there.

One question had been running through Bad’s mind for the last few days.

Now what?

Below him, his troops were running drills, training for gods know what. They were always training for something. When had they last had a battle? When had they last conquered something? He surveyed the field with a sigh. The Hunt had been the highlight of his year. It was the highlight of every year, the thing he always looked forward to.

But Dream was gone. There was no one left to hunt. So, now what?

Ant went home. He went back to his village or his partner’s bakery or something. George went home as well, back to the forest he haunted. He was probably asleep by now, hibernating in his cave like he always did. Bad supposed he could admire George’s dedication to doing absolutely nothing. He managed to become a legend while doing as little as possible. Against all odds, Sapnap had decided to stay with some of the crowd from the tavern. Bad saw him here and there as they traveled between the living realm and the Hells, but he had been staying on the surface a lot more. Bad didn’t know how he felt about that. It felt like Sapnap was moving on too quickly. He wouldn’t argue, though. He had his own things to attend to.

But… He sighed again. It would get boring, fighting these mock battles, preparing for some demon war that would never come. Maybe they’d all continue to get together, even without their leader. 

The goal of the Hunt was to kill Dream. To defeat or catch him, at least. To get him to stop running. In a way, Bad supposed that they finally won.

“I almost gave up on you,” Tubbo said, unprompted. 

“What?” 

They were in the library, on the couches near the fireplace, the ones Tommy remembered as being a lot larger than they were in actuality. The fire crackled quietly. It was twilight. Tommy slowly put his book down, sitting up straight. It had been a comfortable silence, just the rustle of pages and the pop of sparks and the two of them getting used to each other’s company again.

“Yeah.” Tubbo blew hair out of his face, still lying sideways across the arms of his chair. “Very nearly. Day after I made that speech and everything.” It was clear that it had been on Tubbo’s mind for a while. He looked over; Tommy felt like he was almost being studied. It wasn’t a bad studied, just… a careful one. It had been nearly four weeks. It was like Tubbo still had trouble believing it was real. “Making the announcement that I’d be king… y’know. Maybe it would be time to move on.” He shrugged like it didn’t matter. Like his words weren’t making Tommy’s heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. “When you announce you’re gonna be king…” Tubbo sighed, looking at the ceiling again. “You’ve gotta outgrow some stuff. Can’t be a kid anymore. Let go of childhood nicknames and start being an adult. And holding onto the hope that maybe–” His breath caught, voice thick. “–maybe your long-lost twin would miraculously find his way home felt very– it felt childish.” He laughed humorlessly, taking a deep breath. “It’s not like they’d call me King Tubbo, after all.”

Tommy swallowed, nodding slowly.

“Y-yeah, I s’pose…” 

“And– gods, this is going to sound stupid.” Tubbo tilted his head back further, heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. “It was all because of something Techno said. He said something like, oh, Tubbo, I know you’re making that announcement that will change the political landscape of the Empire, but you might not actually have to worry about that for too long, and I thought, wow! Hey! Here’s Technoblade finally accepting his role as the eldest! Here’s Technoblade accepting responsibility for once in his goddamn life! And then– and then–!” Tubbo laughed, dragging his hands down his face. “I look out the window the next morning and there he is, riding off to fuck knows where, off on another adventure!” He was getting louder, voice going higher and higher the more hysterical he became. “He knew! He knew it was you out there and never told me and–” He stopped, taking a shuddering breath and going quiet. “He- he knew you were still alive and ran out without a word.” 

Tommy had never heard anyone sound so defeated. 

“He knew…” Tubbo said, slightly muffled by his hands, “And– I get it. I get why he didn’t– because, you know, if you died, what then? Then we finally have a body to bury? We can finally put you to rest? What then? But he could have told us. He could have said something. We would have–” He scrubbed at his face, pushing his hair back. “No. No, who am I kidding, we wouldn’t have believed him. I certainly wouldn’t have believed him. It’s– I told you, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Tommy said, because it was the only thing he knew how to say, “It’s not stupid. You’re– you aren’t stupid for being angry, Tubs.” They were still trying out nicknames. They were still getting used to each other. This, this kind of outburst, was very new. Tubbo wiped his eyes, chest hitching in what Tommy hoped was a laugh.

“Feels like it. Feels fucking selfish to even– to be angry. At Techno, specifically. It– it feels wrong. He had it w-way worse than I did and we all– we all knew, okay? We all knew that he wasn’t– that he was– that he needed something and that he wasn’t getting it. And that’s why he’d go out and be reckless and lock himself in his room just to sneak out the window. He was our age when he started doing that, can you believe it? And I always–” Tubbo cut himself off, frowning.

“You always what?” Tommy prompted. He didn’t quite know how to tell how other people felt, but he knew how it felt to bottle something up until you couldn’t take it anymore. This was ten years of bottled-up hurt and Tommy knew it. Tubbo’s frown turned into a grimace, like he didn’t want to hear himself say it.

“I always thought he’d die.” He took another shaky breath. “I– I mean. I was eight and already lost two brothers. He’d come back with bandages and black eyes and I thought that the next time he left, he wouldn’t come back.” Deep breath – in, out. “There was this one time, when I was ten. He snuck out one night and didn’t come back for four days. It was the only time that happened, but the entire time I was so– scared. And it felt like I wasn’t allowed to be.

“Phil was furious, of course. Raised hell when Techno came back. He had said, Wilbur was never like this, and I– Techno doesn’t shout a lot. But I remember him shouting, Wilbur isn’t here and slamming a door. It was terrifying.” He finally sat up, shaking his head. “It’s like we’ve all been scared for– gods, for so fucking long, Tommy. It’s like we don’t know how to be when we aren’t.” Tommy knew the feeling. He moved over to Tubbo’s couch, sitting down beside him and letting their shoulders knock together. Tubbo huffed in amusement, knocking his shoulder back. “I’m just– I’m glad you’re back, big man.”

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” It was quiet. The fire was dying down. They were both tired. Tommy didn’t want to get up, though. Not yet. “You… you said Tubbo was a childhood nickname,” he said, and he hears his twin chuckle, “How’d you get it?”

“You couldn’t pronounce my name when we were little. It just stuck.” Tubbo sniffled, wiping his eyes again. “Sorry for dumping all of this on you. It’s got to be a lot.”

“Don’t worry,” Tommy replied, “Give it a week or two, I’ll do the same and we’ll be even.” Tubbo laughed, knocking his shoulder against Tommy’s again. 

They stayed there until the fire died, until the embers burned out, until the sun rose the next morning.

(As they pulled all the pillows and blankets onto the floor, Techno wondered if he was getting too old for this. Sure, he’d only started coming to Niki’s place a few years ago, but sleepovers felt like something he was getting too old for. The events of the last few days kept playing over and over in his head. The last few days meant that a lot of things were going to change. Techno still couldn’t believe any of it.

“Who was he, Techno?” Niki asked, long after they’d finished their usual catch-up and tea-drinking. The mugs were up on her nightstand, ceramic cooled.

“Who?” Techno glanced at her out of the corner of his eye; he knew this conversation would be coming. Yet another he didn’t want to have. It was one of those ones best had while lying on the floor, he guessed. Niki propped herself up on an elbow, looking down at him.

“The boy in the tower.” He should have known she was going to ask about this. He grimaced. “The one you said you were curious about. You’d said you’d tell me after the festival.” There was no hurt in her tone, just concern and curiosity. He did say he’d tell her after the festival, didn’t he. Gods, this was going to be weird.

“Riiiight, him, yeah,” he said, “Almost forgot about that.” She looked at him skeptically. It was the you rushed into my tavern to rescue that boy, there’s no way you forgot look. “He’s, uh…” He glanced away from her, highly interested in the crossbeams on the ceiling. “Howww. Do I say this.” She hummed, drumming her fingers against the blanket. Techno took a deep breath, bracing himself. “He’s my little brother.”

Niki was silent. He could hear her processing the information.

“You’re serious.”

“Eeeeyep.” Techno let himself relax again, the hardwood floor solid under his back. “The one and only.” She flopped back down onto the pillows, letting out a long breath. They were both thinking it. How long it had been. How long it had been his goal to find Tommy. What this meant for the future.

Was he getting too old for sleepovers, or was it that he was going to miss them? Was it that he was going to miss not being tied down to anything? Was it that he was going to miss action and adventure?

“He hasn’t woken up yet,” he forced himself to say; Niki hummed again, “We think that him keepin’ Ranboo alive really drained him.” Tommy had been admitted to the infirmary two days ago. He was alive, the healers said he’d be fine, but he hadn’t woken up yet. It took a frankly unreasonable amount of cajoling from Phil to get him to actually leave the ward and stop pacing.”But it’s– it’s him, Niki. He, uh. He had the compass.”

It was quiet. For a while.

Finally, Niki broke the silence.

“Can’t believe I’m gonna lose my best customer,” she said.

They both knew what she meant.)

King Philza Soot, fourth of his name, had an interesting predicament on his hands: his eldest son, who had been dead for the last ten years, was suddenly back in his life. This also came with a whole host of other issues, most notably being that his youngest son, who had been missing for the last ten years, was alive and well and in the palace, fulfilling the caveat in Tubbo’s decree that would allow the chain of succession to pass to Techno instead. That was a headache he’d deal with later.

His current headache, however, was dealing with the fact that the ghost of his eldest son was wandering around the palace, and, in this very moment, standing right in front of his desk when he had not been a second ago. It had been a lot more of a shock when he first revealed himself in the infirmary, but the novelty hadn’t yet worn off.

“Gods, Wil,” he said, “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” Philza sat back in his chair, hand still on his chest. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.” Wilbur pursed his lips, and Phil immediately recognized it as an expression he himself often wore.

“Never seen you jump like that when a messenger comes in,” he said, the twinkle in his eye betraying the unimpressed jut of his chin.

“Because they actually use the bloody door!” Wilbur laughed, and all the stress plaguing Phil in that moment melted away. He let himself laugh, laugh at the absurdity and the sheer relief of the situation. There was going to be another bout of political upheaval in the future, and he had paperwork to do, and he had trades to negotiate and sign off on, and he had to plan the next few years well enough that Techno would be properly equipped to take the throne at a moment’s notice – not that Philza was planning on dying yet, but prince-regents often started making decisions around then – but right now, he was hearing his eldest son laugh, really laugh, for the first time in ten years. Ghosts were real and his eldest son was one and was finally able to fully manifest from the power his youngest son gave to him, and it was the most amazing thing Phil had ever experienced.

Wilbur was laughing and Techno was training and somewhere in the castle, the twins were causing mischief with whoever they could drag into their shenanigans and it was the most amazing thing Phil had ever experienced.

There were things he could never get back, he knew that. He knew that every time the birds his wife loved to keep tapped against his study window with trinkets he liked to think were from her. But having all his boys home, smiling, was something he’d never thought he’d see again. He thanked whoever was listening for the opportunity. He found himself doing that a lot. 

“What is it you’re working on?” Wilbur asked, once the laughter had faded. Phil rolled his eyes, sitting up straight again to get back to his work.

“Various. Mostly drafting the decree about Techno’s re-appointment as heir apparent. He’ll have to make a speech, probably.” Oh, gods, Techno making a speech. They’d have to do a lot of diplomacy coaching. “No idea how that’s going to go. Same with telling them about Tommy.”

“When will you announce it?” Wilbur floated over his father’s shoulder to look at the paperwork, tilting his head curiously. They had yet to make the formal announcement of Tommy’s return, though most everyone knew at this point. It was a rumor passed throughout the city, a secret throughout the castle, a dream come true that would need a proper celebration to fit it.

“I was thinking at the end of the season,” Phil said, shuffling the papers around. Funds needed to be allocated to the Summer’s End festival. That was in a few weeks. Over his shoulder, Wilbur hummed. “We could make the announcement during the speech. Maybe have Tommy say a few words.” 

“He’s a natural performer, I’m sure he’d love it.” The fondness in Wilbur’s tone makes Philza’s heart clench. Wilbur had watched Tommy grow up, this was something he must have seen firsthand. Phil wished, not for the first time, that he could have seen it.

They worked out the details over those next few weeks, and when the time finally came, in Phil’s humble opinion, things couldn’t have gone better. In the late August heat, with the entire city listening, he announced the return of his youngest son, the kingdom’s golden prince, guided home by the city’s beacons. He reintroduced Tommy to a crowd of people who would adore him, and watched the charisma and confidence Wil had described shine in his son’s smile. 

Later that night, as the festivities wound down, Philza found himself on the balcony. No lanterns had been lit that night – no displays of hope or optimism that started to lose meaning each year; no, it had just been celebrating and the genuine joy of a family reunited, a kingdom once again made whole. 

“That went well,” Wilbur said, appearing next to him. Phil swore, jumping; the look in Wilbur’s eyes said he was doing it on purpose and had no intention of stopping.

“I’d certainly say so,” the king finally managed, huffing at the spirit’s amused expression, “You were right. They loved him.”

“Of course they would. They always have.” Wilbur’s bangs fall into his eyes as he nods; he folds his arms against the balcony’s rail, sighing. “Y’know, you weren’t wrong about the lights guiding us home.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Wilbur looked sidelong up at him before going back to stare out over the city. He pointed towards the woods, to the east, where the moon was making its way through the sky. “When we were in the tower, we could see them every year. Tommy wasn’t too enthusiastic either way, but they had always been my favorite. Tried to get him to make one with me before Techno and Ranboo showed up.”

“I taught you to make those,” Phil said, almost disconnected from his own words. Nostalgia overtook him; little nine-year-old Wilbur begging Phil to teach him, toddler Techno following behind him at every opportunity. “We always knew how much you loved them. They were in your memory.”

“I know.” Wilbur sighed again. “It was one of the few things I really remembered. Making them every year.”

“I never stopped.” Phil’s words seem to catch them both off guard. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his son straighten up, expression strange. “Every year,” he continued, “I always made the first lantern.”

“You did?”

This had been the end goal, hadn’t it? Getting his family back, and remembering those he had lost. Philza found himself nodding, choked up only the smallest bit.

“Of course.”

It was early fall by the time they decided to return to the tower. 

Phil had been against it in almost every capacity: it would be too dangerous, there would be traps, what if Tommy got kidnapped again. Dream was dead, though. There was no one left with a power-driven reason to kidnap Tommy. Dream was dead, and Tommy’s powers were a fraction of what they used to be. It seemed like they were coming back, but the process had been slow. Ranboo would always notice, though, whenever Tommy’s hair started to glow when he got excited. Slow as it was, that power could come back. 

A scouting party had been sent out first, if only to ease Phil’s worries. When they finally returned with reports of the tower still being there and the area being safe, that was when Phil allowed them to actually consider returning, but only if they were heavily guarded.

Tommy had insisted on all of his brothers being there; Tubbo for moral support, Techno for skills, and Wilbur, because what else would he do? They were bringing Tubbo’s personal guard and a couple of knights, as well. And Ranboo. They all knew Ranboo would have to come along.

The last several weeks had been a whirlwind for him. He had gone from highly wanted thief to best friend of the twin princes overnight. He was learning to write in Ender. He had an apprenticeship. It was more than the nameless orphan found outside of the city walls could ever imagine. It was more than the thief picking pockets would ever let himself hope for. It was more than the selfish fugitive falling through a curtain of ivy, intent on getting a treasure back from his friend in order to sell it, should have ever expected out of his life. Yet, here he was.

It was a little strange, too, because he now formally knew his last name. The bookbinder he now found himself working for had required it. It was Wilbur who finally wrote it down for him, was finally able to translate the sounds and symbols into Common words. 

Beloved. 

Ender surnames, Wilbur had explained, were given on a case-by-case basis. Ender-born had to earn their last names, based off traits or personality or descriptions. Ranboo had been found outside the city walls with no memory and no family to speak of. But whoever they were, that family, they had loved him. 

And here, riding through the forest alongside his closest friends, talking and laughing, he knew the name would still fit. He knew it fit when Techno laughed at his jokes or when Eret ruffled his hair or when Tommy and Tubbo snuck out to bring him pastries while he was working. Ender last names represent an inescapable truth about a person, something they earn or are given through deeds. This family, the one he’s found, loved him as much as his old one had. It was amazing.

At the front of their group, Techno slowed his horse to a stop, the rest following suit. Ranboo looked up, up, up. They had made it to the cliff. The ivy had started to grow back over the tunnel where the initial rescue party had cut into it. Ranboo could almost see the other side, the base of the tower.

(“Are you good enough to climb back down by yourself?” Techno had asked, securing the final rope around his waist. Ranboo nodded after a moment, side twinging just slightly. Techno had frowned, but nodded back. Ranboo would rappel down the tower first and get everyone to get a cart ready. Tommy was unconscious, tied in an oversized sling against Techno’s side.)

“Ready?” Puffy asked. It was unclear who she was talking to. She’d taken a liking to Tommy in the last two months. It felt almost obvious that she would join the expedition. 

“No,” Tommy said stiffly, strained. He took a deep breath, set his jaw, and nudged his horse to walk forward. Ranboo found himself exchanging a look with Tubbo; they followed close behind.

The abandoned quarry was exactly as they had left it, though a little more overgrown. There was a patch of dead grass that looked like it had new growth, from where the cat-person threw a bottle of poison. There was a scorch mark still on the stone. There were arrows still stuck in trees. The single rope they had used to rappel down had been replaced by a much sturdier rope ladder, the only sign that anything was truly different. As always, it was silent. 

Tommy couldn’t stop staring at the tower. Even as the group dismounted, hitched their horses to the post left by the scouting party, fanned out to check for any hidden saboteurs, returned to the center – he couldn’t stop staring at the tower. He didn’t move from that spot, gaze fixed on the lip of the windowsill. Ranboo couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. He watched as Tubbo silently walked up beside him, taking his hand and squeezing it. 

“Alright?” It was the first thing anyone had said in twenty minutes.

Tommy looked down at his brother, then away, shrugging a shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. ‘M fine.” Ranboo couldn’t see his face but knew it was a lie. He joined them on Tommy’s other side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Tommy looked up, uncertainty written all over his face.

“We’re right here if you’re not,” Ranboo said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring half-smile. Tommy nodded, looking back up at the tower. 

“I know,” he said.

The rest of the guard stayed at the base of the tower while they climbed. It didn’t seem right, having anyone else up there. They hadn’t been there for the battle. They didn’t know. Tommy made a small, hurt noise at the sight of the potted plants on the windowsill – scraggly, sun-bleached, dried up, dead. He touched a stem, delicate, and seemed to wilt just as the plants must have when they didn’t return to life.

The inside of the tower was just as they had left it, a layer of dust coating everything. The cloak was still there, the two halves of the mask beside it. The scent of old, stale blood hung in the air. Against the wall, a dark green stain in the shape of a person; Ranboo’s side ached at the memory. 

No one moved a muscle, not wanting to disturb the room. 

Even the world, on its axis, stilled. Watching. Waiting.

Tommy didn’t think he’d miss the tower. He didn’t think he’d miss the solitude, the quiet, the forced independence when Dream wasn’t home. He didn’t think he’d still think of the place as home. All of it hits him when he sets foot in the main room.

Everything is almost exactly as it had been left. There were a few footprints in the dust from the scouting expedition, but the rest was the same. The melted manacles, the cloak, the two halves of the mask, all of it was still on the floor. The table must have been bumped in the fight, the checkerboard askew and the pieces scattered.  He vaguely registered footsteps behind him. The couch was still there. The kitchen was still there. The wardrobe he had hid Ranboo in was still there. The room was frozen in those final moments between Dream’s death and Tommy passing out, and it was… weird. It was weird. It was comforting, in a way – that two months had passed, that Tommy’s life had gotten turned entirely on its head, but the tower had remained the same. Something had stayed consistent. It was comforting, yet it filled him with dread.

There were footprints leading to the curtain that separated Dream’s room from the rest of the tower. Something about that felt wrong. Dream was dead, he didn’t need that room anymore, nothing could stop Tommy from entering it, but it felt wrong. It was the one room he wasn’t supposed to enter, the one space that had always been a mystery. It was Dream’s room. It felt wrong that someone had gone in there, and that someone hadn’t been Dream. It made him uneasy, all these weird feelings. He didn’t like it.

It’s not like Dream could stop him from entering now.

He pushed back the curtain and saw… another room. Another bedroom. There was a large, four-poster bed and a window. There was a desk, and a shelf full of books. There was a journal on the desk, and blankets on the bed. It was… a room. All his life, Dream’s room had been a space Tommy could never imagine, a space he’d never see because it would be rude to intrude like that (and also Dream had forbidden it), a nearly-mythic area of the house. Maybe the books were lost esoterica or held the secrets to powerful sorcery, but that part didn’t matter. 

It was a room. It had been lived in. The person who lived in it was now dead. It was… anticlimactic. He swallowed down the – was it grief? – welling up in his throat, and left.

Slowly, Tommy made his way to the staircase; there were footprints here, too, going up to his room. Dust swirled behind him as he ran his hand up the banister. Behind him, someone sneezed. That, of all things, was what broke him out of his stupor – he turned, seeing Tubbo rubbing under his nose. His twin looked sheepish, but, against all odds, it made Tommy laugh. Something in the air relaxed. Tommy nodded towards the top of the stairs, grinning at his brother.

“C’mon.” 

His bedroom door swung open like it had countless times. The inside doorknob was slightly warped, dents shaped to fit a human hand. The bed was messy, his rucksack lying on top, the contents haphazardly spilling out from where Techno had left them in his haste to get the Sundrop nectar for Ranboo. They’d be able to bring his things home, finally. His clothes, his pillow, all of that. He had moved house without taking anything with him, and this was the return journey. This was his space, his room, and it was so goodhorriblerelievingterrifying to be back. There were memories embedded in every floor board, every stone in the wall. This had been home.

“So this was your place?” Tubbo said, looking around. He seemed careful to not touch anything. Tommy couldn’t blame him.

“Yep.” Tommy knelt over by the dresser, opening up the drawers and stuffing his clothes – gods, had he missed some of these shirts – into the bag he brought. “S’fuckin’ weird, thinkin’ about it. Ten years in this place.” Tubbo sat down on the bed, the resulting puff of dust making him cough. “It’s like,” Tommy started, moving to the next drawer, “I dunno how to explain it. I missed being here, but it’s making my head all spinny n’ shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I missed it, but being back is making me feel all gross and weird inside. Like I’m being fuckin’ hunted or something.” Ha, that was a way to put it. All of this had started because Dream left for the Hunt. He moved to the next drawer. “It’s almost like I’m waiting to wake up. Dream’s going to come home any second now and you’re all going to vanish or die.” He closed the last drawer, letting his head thunk against the wood and his eyes shut. “Like it won’t be real, I s’pose.” He heard the bed creak; when he opened his eyes, Tubbo was right next to him.

“It’s pretty real, big man. I’ll even pinch you to prove it.” Tubbo pinched his arm and twisted, hard. Tommy yelped, shoving his twin away as the other cackled.

“That fuckin’ hurt, dickhead!” he shouted, rubbing the spot and glaring. It just made Tubbo laugh harder.

“All good up there?” Techno called from somewhere downstairs.

“Yeah!” they answered unison, before Tubbo borderline tackled his twin. It was comfortable. It was home. This was what home was, it was being with the people who loved him. Tommy had missed the tower, but it was no longer home. Dream was no longer home. 

And it started to hurt a little less.

Technoblade picked up one half of the broken mask. It would be a trophy, he decided. He wouldn’t smash it, he wouldn’t shatter it into a million pieces. It wouldn’t be satisfying, he decided. Killing Dream hadn’t been satisfying, but that was okay. 

Well.

Okay may not have been the right word. But Techno was living with it. 

He slipped the mask piece into his bag; it was definitively a trophy, a symbol of the victory he had over the demon haunting his every moment. It wasn’t a reminder of his failure to save his brothers. No, it wouldn’t be. He had killed Dream, he had gotten his brothers back, he had completed his quest. He would be king.

… He would be king.

Techno raked a hand through his hair, groaning under his breath. Upstairs, the twins were still laughing. Ranboo was off in that curtained side room, probably stuffing his bag full of those books Techno had briefly spotted. Outside, Puffy, Fundy, and Eret were still keeping watch. Eret looked up at him. They waved. Techno waved back.

Ohhhhhhh gods, he was going to be king.

Maybe those books Ranboo was collecting would help him somehow. He had, gods, a lot of reading to do. And a lot of people to talk to. Did an entire city, and by extension entire kingdom, count as a lot of people? Or were they counted as a sort of nebulous entity that Techno could compress into his head into, like, five people? Yeah, maybe. That’d be easier, probably.

He crushed the other half of the mask under his heel and relished in the sound of splintering porcelain.

Tommy and Tubbo came back downstairs with their arms laden in goods. Tommy had the green bandana with the bee on it holding his hair back. Ranboo remembered getting that bandana. He didn’t know that Tommy kept it.

His new memory book held an inventory of the things brought back from the tower: clothes; three pillows; one blanket; trinkets purchased during beacon festival (see previous book; minus Sundrop nectar); one half of mask; many books (detailed previous); and various magic things Techno thought was important (ask??). He’d have to follow up on that one later. 

Ranboo flipped idly to the first page of the new memory book – it was the first one he had successfully bound at his apprenticeship. The first page, like in all the previous memory books, held all of his basic information. A lot had changed. He traced idly over the words, and felt something like pride.

Your name is Ranboo Beloved (⍀⏃⋏⏚⍜⍜ ⏚⟒⌰⍜⎐⟒⎅). You are half Enderman, half something else, and fluent in Ender. You are originally from the East Quarter of the Northern Empire’s capital city, but now live in the castle. You are probably seventeen. You are allergic to water and hate eye contact. Your favorite food is Niki’s baked potatoes. You currently work as a bookbinder’s apprentice. Your friends are Niki, Crumb, Technoblade, Fundy, Ser Eret, Captain Puffy, Tommy, and Tubbo. 

He put the memory book back in his bag, along with all the books taken from Dream’s room. Those would be interesting to go over later. He was looking forward to it.

They were leaving.

Ranboo side-eyed the bloodstain on the tower wall one last time. He climbed down the rope ladder.

Tommy stood at the mouth of the tunnel. He stood at the mouth of the tunnel, the ivy curtain at his back, and looked up at the tower. He left a lot in the tower. They left the rope ladder. It would be easy to climb back up, Tommy told himself.

He would never climb back up.

Wilbur faded into view at his side, also looking up at the tower. He had been absent for most of the day. It made sense. It was weird seeing the tower from the outside, the stones, the structure, the roof. If Tommy had it his way – and he would, thanks much – he’d never see it again. He used to think it was so tall. He lived in a fuckin’ palace now. This tower was miniscule beside it.

“You comin’?” Techno called, halfway down the tunnel.

“Just a moment.” Tommy waved him off, not taking his eyes from the tower. He was getting deja vu. 

“We’ll be right out here,” Tubbo said. Tommy smiled, sparing a glance over his shoulder. His friends were waiting for him. He looked back to the tower.

The tower…

It had been home. It was no longer home. There was a world outside of this valley, and that was his home. His friends were proof of that. His family was proof of that. It was time to go home.

“Fuck this place,” Tommy declared.

“Fuck this place,” Wilbur agreed.

“And fuck everybody who fuckin’ kept me here!” He let his shout echo off the sides of the quarry. “Fuck this stupid tower and fuck Dream!”

There was a certain finality to it. 

He turned away from the tower and walked through the curtain of ivy. His friends were waiting on the other side. He got on his horse, and they started to ride home.

The months passed. The air turned chill. Leaves fell. Days got shorter. Snow blanketed the Northern Empire. The new year came. Days got longer. The snow began to thaw. The trees began to bud. Flowers bloomed.

The twin princes celebrated their seventeenth birthday together, surrounded by friends. Rumors spread about a the castle being haunted. The king began training his eldest living son in the ways of a ruler. He was good at it, the son. He would make a good leader.

The days grew long. The sun set late. The day finally came. Out on the water, revelers sat in boats of all sizes, waiting to hear a speech.

The announcement was made at the eleventh annual beacon-lighting festival: Prince Theseus Soot, known as Technoblade to his family and friends, would take the throne when the time came. The kingdom remembered those they had lost and celebrated those that had returned. 

On the balcony, a king, three princes, a ghost, and a bookbinder’s apprentice released the first lantern into the sky.