Chapter Text
When Tommy lands, he already knows he’s in a race against time.
Or rather, he’s in a race against Dream.
Dream said he’d be back when he learned how to behave. That could be any time between now and never. Dream was always like that when it came to when he’d be visiting: vague. He would just wave the question away or tell Tommy he didn’t know or give him a wide range for when he’d be there. It had always made him nervous when Dream would sneak up behind him and startle him, would clap a hand down on his shoulder just a little bit too hard.
Luckily ,or rather, unluckily , he didn’t have much. His pictures were haphazardly shoved into the pockets of his pants and his compas still hung loosely around his neck.
“I can’t go back.” he muttered to himself as he glanced over the ruins of Logstedshire. New L’manberg was never going to be any sort of home to him. Even if he wanted to go back, he couldn’t. Dream would slaughter him on sight and without any evidence to suggest his friends (former friends?) would have his back, that was clearly out of the question.
He wouldn’t be safe anywhere in the SMP or close to it, that he knew for sure.
He raised his head, eyes tracing over the southern horizon where he knew his family lived beyond the ocean. Something in his chest tightened, and he could’ve sworn that for a minute he was back in his bedroom in the castle.
He could go back to the Empire. Return to his childhood home and his friends.
It certainly wouldn’t be hard. The Empire had trading ships in the countries surrounding the SMP and most citizens knew his face. He could flash a smile and promise gold and be there in two days time if he pleased.
He could almost imagine it. A ship floating through the icy Antarctic waters, with him standing on its deck. Luke and Deo would be waiting for him on the docks of the Bay with warm smiles and open arms. They’d bring him to the palace and his father and brother would greet him with relieved eyes and supportive whispers. They’d walk him to his room and reassure him that he had a place there. But would Phil and Techno want him there? Would they welcome him with open arms or would they shun him and blame him for Wilbur’s descent into madness? Did they even consider him family anymore?
It wasn’t worth it, he decided in the end. If he were to reach the gates of the capital only to be turned away he’d die. The Antarctic wasteland which the capital city had been built upon was inescapable without aid from its kingdom. It was what made them so strong. They were an impenetrable force to be reckoned with. The kingdom had stood for decades and would stand for decades more…. with or without him.
Not South then.
Distantly, he felt his hands come up to grasp at the compass that sat around his neck. He tugged it off with a small grunt, eyes tracing over it’s every detail. It pointed West, toward Tubbo. Tubbo who he’d been raised alongside. Tubbo who was his eldest friend and closest confidant. Lmanberg, that had been built by his brother and that he’d bled and died for. His friends, who he loved and cared for. His people that he so desperately wanted to be there for. His people who exiled him and sent him away with Dream as his warden. He wouldn’t go West.
East. He’d go East.
East was the ocean, that much he knew for sure. With any luck, he’d be able to find a trading village or a port and find work or cross the Eastern Sea. With any better luck, no one would come looking for him and he could escape in peace.
With his photos and his compass (and the one piece of steak he had left poorly wrapped and in his pocket) he started to walk.