Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Even from Tommy’s little cell, he can hear the screaming. The dreadful, suffocating silence he’s used to is replaced by a force much more foul as something swift and as certain as death fills the castle, but all Tommy can do is uselessly tug at the chain around his ankle as he panics. 

He’s isolated deep enough under the castle that he never usually hears a sound. Only big parties, banquets, or the occasional parade reach his quiet, craggy cell. But it’s music and laughter that filter down then, not screams of terror. 

Battle is not something new to the SMP, or for Dream, not when they are known for conquest. But Tommy was always kept far away from any harm in his cramped and claustrophic room, like valuables locked inside a coffer. Dream had to keep his little dragon safe, afterall. 

That no longer rings true as he hears the thumps of someone walking down the long, spiraling stairway to his cell.

Tommy’s chest freezes, all his breath stuck in his throat as he watches the doorway to his room with rapt eyes. 

The door shakes, still locked. If it were the normal guards- or Dream- they’d have the keys to get in. The door thumps from someone hitting it, and in a flurry of broken wood and metal bits, it is forced open. Tommy shrieks, doing his best to slide away. There’s not much room to move or much slack on his chain, though.

Tommy glances to the now ruined doorway. Standing in the entrance are guards- but ones Tommy does not know. They are dressed in pale blue stained with blood, not the familiar green uniforms all SMP personnel wear. They are the intruders, and they have come for him.

The chain he struggled against is neatly broken by the strike of one of the men’s swords. Then, they try grabbing him.

Tommy fights, of course he does. The day he stops fighting is the day he- well, yeah. He fights. He throws punches and even tries biting at the hands that dare come too near to his face, but he’s overpowered four versus one. But even when he’s subdued and brought out of his cell, they’re not as harsh as the boy expects them to be. He wasn’t dragged around like unwanted baggage, but is carried carefully yet tightly to prevent him from running away.

The trek back up the stairs is painfully long, and it would’ve been impossible with the state his right leg is in, but the soldiers pull him up stone stair by stone stair until a large, weathered door is swung open revealing light.

Daylight, pure and unobscured, shines through the tall windows of the hallways. They’ve reached the ground level.

It’s been years since Tommy was brought up here to see the sun.

The soldiers continue to carry him along down a hallway gilded and golden. He doesn’t know where they’re taking him but he doubts it’s for anything good. Tommy has lived in this castle for- for a very long time, but he was always restricted to his room, chained and locked away. His right leg throbs with pain, too damaged for him to set any weight on it. He could never explore the halls, even if he wanted to. So as they make their way down the long, dark corridors everything is foreign and strange to him. He has no idea what fate awaits him- though he would bet on something grim.

Large paintings pass them by of people he doesn’t recognize with names he’s never heard, dead for decades now. The shouting is louder now, clear as the day. Nearby he hears a woman crying for mercy before her voice suddenly cuts off.

Tommy grimaces. He tries squirming in the unyielding grip of the soldiers, but he can’t even gain an inch of space.

They pause in front of two reddish wooden doors. One soldier pushes them open slowly, the hinges groaning from the weight. 

And then before him is a room spacious and dimly lit, since most of the candles have been blown out. A long table sits in the center of the room splattered with maps, loose papers, and blood. Crimson paints the walls and dirties the once glowing white quartz floor. 

The bodies have all been kicked to the side like an afterthought. He doesn’t recognize any of the slack-jawed humans.

Tommy is finally let go from the tight grasp of the guards and falls forward onto his knees. He bites back a whimper of pain.

He examines the room closer- some sort of war planning room. There’s a map of the whole continent pinned up on the back wall, covered in markers and dotted lines. Across the room from him, he hears someone cry out. 

Even with tossed-over chairs blocking his view, he spots Dream, the man’s golden crown knocked off his head and rolling slowly on the ground. When Dream sat on his throne, he seemed like an unreachable god but now he is held down by someone, his appearance disheveled and messy, covered in blood as well. 

Dream snarls, “You will regret this! I will destroy you all!”

The person holding him down shoves Dream’s head into the floor, earning a pained groan from him.

A vicious part of Tommy is happy that no matter how today ends, Dream has been disgraced. The human is going to lose everything after taking all Tommy had. What goes around comes around, bitch.

Tommy fails to spot anything useful, with no sword or shields in sight. It’s dumb, why is there a war room with no tools of war? He really can’t pity the dead when they’ve left themselves so defenseless. And they were all idiotic enough to follow Dream.

He’s pulled out of his search when a new person enters, but not just anyone. The air of the room shifts around them. Guards tense up and go quiet as all attention lands on the person.

Tommy’s attention is drawn, too. The man walks with a straight back, head held high, and mirth dancing on his face. His green robes are slightly ruffled and the ends wet with blood, but he still looks regal enough to be recognized as royalty. At the moment, the man has no crown but his hair glows golden in the firelight.

He passes Tommy without sparing him a glance, instead making his way over to Dream.

“Wonderful work, Techno.” The royal commends his soldier, both nodding to each other.

“For you, the world.”

Dream speaks up, enraged, “What is the meaning of this- of this senseless invasion? Or do peace agreements mean nothing to the Antarctic?”

“Well, hello to you, too, immortal king of the Greater SMP, Dream himself. I would say it’s an honor to meet a man of such acclaim but,” the man’s grin sharpens, “we should skip the pointless pleasantries.”

“I have done nothing to slight you, Philza.”

The man laughs coldly, walking a slow circle around Dream. He surveys the fallen king like a hungry predator, ready to dive in for the kill.

“You know you’ve gained quite the reputation of being the king of conquest. L’Manberg, the Badlands, and now Snowchester? What will be next? You’re going to keep going and keep going- because you’re going to keep conquering until you die. And we both know you’re not doing that any time soon.”

Dream snarls again, thrashing around on the ground like a suffocating fish. Tommy has never seen him so powerless. He can’t help but snort when Dream’s face is smashed into the ground again and the certain sound of his nose crunching echoes throughout the room.

That unfortunately turns the attention on him. Tommy’s stomach sinks with terror when the emperor’s eyes meet his.

“You,” The royal says as if he knows exactly who Tommy is, though the boy knows the two have never met.

Philza approaches Tommy, reaching out to him. He flinches back, trying to scramble away, but the man’s hand lightly cups under his chin, pushing his face up to be examined. Tommy keeps his eyes resolutely on the ground, avoiding eye contact as the man hums and finally steps back.

“Yes… I’m not sure how you got your hands on the switching ritual, nonetheless a dragon hatchling, but your reign of terror ends here.” Philza declares, turning back to Dream.

Tommy swallows back a whine of panic as he continues to stare at the floor. He doesn’t dare look up even when someone else joins the room and has a whispered conversation with the foreign emperor. Chairs are shoved aside and the acidic smell of magic hits the air. Tommy resists the urge to cover his ears when a knife is brought out to carve something out into the ground, no, he just curls into himself trying to block out everything.

It’s only when Tommy gains control of his unsteady breathing does he look up again.

The newcomer is another royal, this time a golden crown indicating their status sat atop their head. The prince has taken his place right by the emperor's side. The two take a moment to intertwine hands and look over to make sure the other is not harmed in any way. It’s quiet and gentle, an antithesis to the carnage around them and Tommy’s own distress.

With hushed ancient words, a spell hums throughout the room until magic wells up, filling the air with static.

The ground lights up, the runes carved into the ground crackling with an old and powerful spell. A spell Tommy’s only seen one time before on the day his life was ruined.

The dragon notices too late what ritual is about to take place. Because years and years ago, Dream prepared the same circle of runes, uttered the same spell that sizzled in the air, trapping Tommy. It’s the switching ritual, the process which lets humans trade their hearts with dragons to bind their lives together.

It’s happening again.

The emperor is the one who kneels in front of Tommy, placing his hands over Tommy’s chest.

Tommy whines in fear. He knows what will happen next, and he can’t do anything to fight it, but he is hysterical in his terror.

“I know, I’m sorry, but this is the least painful way to do this.” This man hushes him.

And then there are fingers digging into his chest. Nails tear his skin and muscle, slipping past bone until they wrap around his rapidly beating heart. Tommy chokes. He wants to bite the man’s jugular and dig his talons into his eyes, but the pain is paralyzing and all-consuming. There is no way to take someone’s heart painlessly. 

Then Philza starts pulling, dislodging the organ and leaving Tommy’s chest an open, bleeding cavity. The man steals from him because that’s what humans do.

Tommy’s mind is blurry, and he disconnectedly watches Philza stand up. The human’s hands are stained golden from the rich blood that flows through Tommy’s veins and even in the palm of the stranger’s hands, the heart continues to beat steadily outside of his chest. The small, red thing gurgles as his gold blood spills out onto the floor, sizzling as it hits the runes still burning in the ground.

Across the room, the soldier with braided hair does the same to Dream. Dream cries out in pain, the man clearly less careful than how Tommy was treated. Blood spurts around them as the king of the SMP screeches. The sound is like a comforting birdsong to Tommy’s ears and it grounds the boy in his own pain.

Philza and his soldier carefully trade the hearts- one human and one dragon, though living in two opposite chests.

Tommy stares blankly at his heart- his original heart- held in the palm of a stranger. It’s golden like a treasure, but messily pumps out dark red blood that once flowed through Dream’s veins. The crimson liquid messily splatters onto the ground. It joins the rest of the blood staining the ground and making the air taste metallic.

Dream once said dragon hearts were beautiful treasures, gilded and flowing with gold that they were meant to be taken. They were valuable, and Tommy was valuable Dream. That’s why he just had to be locked away, to be kept safe.

With the same strangely gentle hands, Philza settles Tommy’s heart in the empty space it was stolen from. Tommy gasps, choking at the familiar weight settling in his chest. His pulse picks up, beating frantically as if nothing ever interrupted it.

The pink-haired man shoves Dream’s human heart back into its original chest again just as the spell burning on the ground fades out. The human cries out again, hunched over coughing and shaking.

A long, long time ago Dream performed this ritual with him, stealing his dragon’s heart for his own selfish reasons. 

Dream wanted to cheat death, and for years he did. When a human switches hearts with a dragon binds, their lifelines are bound together. If one dies, as long as the other is alive they both will be. And with how long dragons can live, it’s the closest thing humans can achieve to immortality. 

With their lives no longer tethered, when the soldier sinks a sword into Dream’s chest, it kills him in moments. He dies so easily, despite all the torment he brought to Tommy’s life. It’s almost unfair despite the relief that floods his veins.

Dream dies easily, like any other human.

Dream always had a weird mentality about death. Even when they first met and the human was a normal mortal, Dream acted as if he were invincible. He thrived off danger and lived as if death was far, far away. Tommy always believed in his easy confidence that despite the inevitable fate that met every living thing, Dream was the exception. He wouldn’t die.

Maybe even then he knew he would trick Tommy into giving him near-immortality. But Dream had never died before today, leaving Tommy’s heart intact to be returned to him. 

Not that an intact heart matters much now when he’s at the mercy of the Empire. 

Tommy coughs, tasting blood at the back of his throat. The ritual has left his chest aching and head throbbing. It’s every bit awful as he remembered it, and he doesn’t know why he wasn’t just slaughtered with Dream to ensure his death.

Dream’s corpse is kicked to the side to join the other bodies lining the walls, discarding him like trash. The man’s head rolls sideways, limp like a doll, and Tommy quickly glances away from the glassy green eyes that stare back at him.

Tommy carefully swallows down the burn of bile in his throat. He didn’t pity Dream, he got what he deserved, but the sheer fact a corpse was so close to him was disturbing.

Then the prince, the man crowned in gold with dark eyes, steps where Dream once stood. With confusion, Tommy watches as the runes light up again at the whisper of a spell.

-And oh, that’s why he was kept alive. They want his heart, just as Dream did.

This time when the emperor kneels in front of him, he hoarsely cries out in protest, but it’s still no use. His broken leg burns in protest when he tries to stand on it, and Philza easily grips his arm and pulls him back onto the ground.

Sat across the rune circle from him is the prince, who holds the soldier’s hand as his heart is removed. It’s done much more mindfully than it was for Dream. Tommy blinks, watching the prince wince as his crimson, beating heart is removed. Distantly, Tommy knows Philza is doing the same to him, taking his heart as easily as one pulls a strand of hair from someone’s head.

It’s a blur the second time around, as he helplessly has to watch his heart be torn out again and replaced with someone else’s. Defeat poisons his body, weakening him and leaving his limbs feeling numb.

When the runes die out, a human heart once again beats in his chest. 

Tommy can’t stop the sob that tears from his lips. He’s going to be the prisoner to yet another royal, just a thing to be locked away to ensure elongated life. They only see him as a totem to keep humans alive, dodging true death. He’d rather they kill him, he wishes they would just kill him instead of condemning him to this hell of a life. He hears quiet coos and attempts at comforting words, but they run past him unheard.

With blurry eyes, the boy watches figures enter and leave the room. Philza says something quiet and rushed to Tommy and leaves, but the brown-haired human remains nearby.

The prince shakily sits next to him. He smiles brightly, charming despite the blood that stains the front of his shirt. Red and gold mixed together. Tommy tries growling, but he hiccups instead. It’s- it’s so unfair. Things shouldn’t have ended up like this.

The human raises his hand and Tommy slams his eyes shut, awaiting pain, but his hand just rests gently on top of Tommy’s head.

“Hello, I am Prince Wilbur of the Antarctic Empire,” The human runs his hand through Tommy’s hair, “and you are now tied to me.”

Once upon a time, Tommy would have fought harder. He would have thrashed and gnashed his teeth to bite someone. He would’ve shifted into his serpentine form to tear at the human’s fragile skin with his claws, and spit fire until this whole cursed place was set alight.

But instead, Tommy is tired. Even when he closes his eyes and focuses, he can’t gather the energy to shift skin into scales, he can’t find the will to start another fight. He hasn’t had enough strength to fight in a long time, his imprisonment eating away at his vitality until he’s become the husk he is now, weak and silent.

Being a prisoner is not something new to him. It’s a horrible truth he’s come to accept, that humanity has no sympathy for monsters like him. 

And Wilbur’s fingers carding through his hair is nice, it’s a distraction from the stinging pain in his chest. He finds himself going limp, falling forward. He barely pays attention as someone lifts him off the ground. All he does is accept sleep, restless as it is.

❀❀❀

Tommy wakes up with someone else’s heart thrumming behind his ribs. The song of his pulse is orchestrated by an organ small and red, simple and mortal. Foreign. 

He grew used to Dream’s heart. Logically, hearts cannot change that much from human to human, but this one feels lighter. It’s something less poisonous to carry around. Dream used to claim he cared about Tommy and that’s why he had to stay locked up- because he would be safe from all harm. But the heavy, painful way the human’s heart treated him was like he was trying to hurt Tommy anyway.

This is a heart unburdened by the same greed and hatred contained within Dream. He knows little about Wilbur but the bright smile and gentle hands he has, and even when Dream pretended to be nice he never was soft around Tommy.

It’s little comfort. He’s not going to go and deceive himself into believing he’ll be met with kindness, that Wilbur is any different than Dream. From the start, the goal was his heart, and the Antarctic Empire seized it. Tommy’s heart beats inside someone else’s chest today, but another selfish human all the same.

With resignation, Tommy blinks his eyes open. He doesn’t know where he is, but it can’t matter that much.

It’s not the same cell he’s woken up to inside the Greater SMP palace. Tommy doubts he’s still even inside the palace if the pale blue curtains are any indicator. 

The air smells like antiseptic and healing potions. When he glances over, he sees the bedside table is a mess of medicine bottles, tonics, and bandages. With a quick look over himself, Tommy sees all his wounds have been treated, even the older ones. Yellow-brown bruises are still covered in salve and each cut and knick given to him as punishment are neatly wrapped up. His broken leg is kept straight by a splint.

He places his palm against his unmarred chest. Tommy knows from experience that no matter how traumatic the heart switching feels, no mark will be left behind. The ritual ensured no harm came to him. He still feels the phantom pain of someone else rifling inside his ribcage, stealing his heart like it was nothing.

The scrutiny of the care being given to him is probably the result of the royals making sure he’s healthy and doesn’t threaten the heart of the prince.

How annoying.

Tommy tries kicking off the constraining blankets around him, but they must weigh a hundred pounds with how much he struggles. Fuck, his limbs won’t cooperate with him.

Someone dressed in all white, but with a red and yellow mask obscuring most of their face, rounds the corner. When they see that Tommy is awake, they jump in surprise.

“Oh, you’re awake! Hello.” The person says.

Tommy is overwhelmed as he glances around the room. In the gap between the curtains, he can see sprawling green hills outside, but they’re above the sparse treetops. There are tapestries with crests he doesn’t recognize hung on the wall, and medical tools and medicine he’s not familiar with littering the tables. Tommy can see old bloodied bandages filling the rubbish bin in the corner of the room.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello. I’m Ponk, the doctor that’s been assigned to your case. You seem to be doing well- but if anything hurts or is giving you a problem, don’t hesitate to tell me. Are you feeling okay right now? No dizziness, nausea, or pain?” 

Tommy shakes his head from side to side. He feels fine.

The doctor’s eyes crinkle, “Good. We’ve patched up all your wounds but in the shape you’re in we’re unable to give you health potions. You’re… you’re malnourished and underweight, so it would cause more harm than good. So for now, you have to heal up the slow and boring way.”

They want to heal him up. Dream also went to such lengths when Tommy was first imprisoned. It’d be an embarrassment and a waste to gain near immortality and then accidentally kill off your dragon by starving them. But the human eventually caught on that dragons are hearty, they don’t perish despite being withheld basic necessities. They live long and don’t die easily. You can throw them in a box and forget about the key.

The Antarctic Empire is putting in this effort for their precious prince, but they’ll grow tired too. They’ll realize the same things Dream did and come to the same conclusion that it’d be simpler to keep Tommy locked away somewhere small and secure, given minimal attention. 

Tommy sighs.

A knock rings out on the solid wood on the door. Ponk utters a “Come in!” and the door swings open.

A tall and gangly figure enters, guards flanking him on either side, but with a sink in his gut Tommy recognizes him.

It’s Wilbur. He’s got his golden crown atop his head still and is dressed in pristine blues and reds. This is the very human who holds his heart hostage. He can almost hear it crying out, the song of its beating a blaring bell.

Ponk stands up and bows, “Your highness, this is an expected visit- though you’re welcomed, of course, to stay.”

“Thank you, doctor. I just wanted to check up on our little guest.”

Tommy stiffens under Wilbur’s gaze and shuffles so he’s sitting up straight in bed, bowing his head,  “Hello your royal highness, Prince Wilbur Soot of the Antarctic Empire.”

He doesn’t have the energy to rise, so he stays hunched staring at the white bedsheets.

“Oh, you don’t have to bother with those formalities. We’re-” He cuts himself off, but Tommy gets the message. 

They are tied by mirroring hearts, one belonging to each other. Their lives are twisted into the same piece of thread. But that doesn’t mean they are close to each other, or familiar. They are still strangers who have barely held a single conversation together.

“I wanted… to say hello. Properly this time. I mean, you know who I am, but I have not been formally introduced to you.”

“Hm?” The boy tilts his head.

“I do not know your name.” Wilbur rephrases.

“Oh. I’m… Tommy.”

With how awkwardly he says it, he worries Wilbur will accuse him of lying. But Wilbur’s smile only softens as he echoes, “Tommy, how wonderful.”

It’s been- been what, decades says he’s said his own name? Heard someone else say it? Or has it been longer?

His mind floats from the strange wonder. Ponk rambles on about his health, his track to healing, and whatever- Tommy still hears his name repeating over in his head.

He’s Tommy.

“We’ve done what we can to help you recover, but your leg was in a dire state. It’ll heal, but I doubt you’ll ever be able to walk on it again without assistance.”

Tommy takes a moment to get situated into his own head again. He’s Tommy, yes, whatever, that isn’t new news. He’s himself.

“I know. It was broken on purpose. So I couldn’t run.”

Methodically every couple of months, Dream had his doctors snap the bone to prevent it from healing fully. After a while, it became clear it was never going to heal back fully.

He’s a grounded dragon and he can’t even pace around the room. 

Ponk grimaces, “I was afraid of that. It was done efficiently, but I’ll see what I can do to heal you.”

“We will do everything we can to get you up and walking again,” Wilbur promises with a smile. 

Tommy nods, knowing full well the words have to be a lie. He’s the prince’s insurance, his second chance at life if he meets a tragic fate. He knows no one will look at him and see a person, a kid, or even a monster. They’ll just see something that needs to be locked away and kept secure.

Fixing his leg is counterintuitive for them. It’s useless for these humans to try and win him over when he’s gone through this song and dance before. They treat him nicely, butter him up, and then laugh at his idiocy when they grow bored of him. 

The dragon examines both the humans. Ponk is relaxed, even in the presence of a royal. His voice stays light and chipper. And Wilbur… well, Wilbur seems more relaxed, too. The prince had been on edge during the attack on the SMP castle but now he laughs at something the doctor says and smiles constantly. It’s annoying how much Wilbur smiles, what is there to be so happy about all the time? Life must be so easy when you’re a prince, Wilbur has probably had everything go his way since he was in diapers. Prick.

Tommy blinks long and slow. Prime, this is dumb. He’s tired. It’s- it’s been a long time since things changed in his life, even if this is a cruel mirror of when Dream first stole him away. But he just doesn’t have the energy he used to get worked up about the injustice of it all.

“My apologies, you must be exhausted. We can continue this conversation later when you feel up to it.” Ponk apologizes, noticing his quietness.

Tommy shrugs, but he doesn’t argue. From the corner of his eye, he watches the two humans leave the room. Before Wilbur crosses the threshold, he pauses and waves goodbye with another annoying smile on his face.

“We’ll also talk more later. There’s a lot for us to discuss.” Wilbur says fucking ominously. 

He’s tempted to flip the prince off, but it seems like too much effort and not worth the trouble he’d get into. So Tommy turns his head, ignoring the man, and leans back in the bed.

Tommy is tired. Physically, there isn’t much weighing him down. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out, but once he’s rested off the weariness from the switching ritual, he’ll be fine. Some wounds won’t drag him down. But there’s a different tiredness that’s stuck with him for a long time that no sleep will alleviate. He’s seen many seasons pass and many of them were spent in that tiny dungeon called his room. He’s seen so much and yet so little, and life no longer sits easily on his shoulders. 

His heart- Wilbur’s heart beats slow and steady, the sound ringing in his ears. It’s constant, and it is already driving him mad. Why can’t it- Tommy hopes that- why can’t the stupid thing just shut up?

Chapter Text

The sunrises are prettier in the empire. Ponk says it’s because of some nonsense about the colder weather and because they’re farther up North the colors become more vibrant. It sounds like a load of bullshit.

Maybe it would matter more if he actually got to see them, but Tommy rarely gets a chance to see the sunrise or sunset. Or much of anything. The curtains are kept drawn closed for most of the day, the door shut to visitors that aren’t nurses or guards. "For his health" allegedly. It’s boring, is what it is, it’s stifling. The air is cold and hurts to breathe. 

He was locked up for decades, Tommy knows a prison when he sees one, even one as nice as this one.

Everything about this new situation rubs him wrong. This is somewhere he’s never been, with people he doesn’t know, and there is nothing familiar to comfort him. He missed the SMP’s rolling green fields, not the snowy mountains that tower around him here. Tommy misses home-

But it feels wrong to call the SMP “home.” It was home, he was born and raised there, and he misses it. And he also shivers in fear at the thought of stepping back into Dream’s palace.

Tommy is treated well here. Better than he was being treated before, even if that’s a low bar of comparison. The meals he’s given are good. There’s nothing to complain about there. He’s given soft clothing and plush pillows instead of rags and a hard, stone cell. 

If he closes his eyes and tilts his head, turning the world, he can clear his thoughts and enjoy the simple niceties he has right now. Things aren’t bad, in an objective sense. He’s healthier than he’s been in ages. But Tommy is not dense, there’s plenty of stuff happening behind the scenes within the walls of castles and inside the minds of human men. Tommy is a valuable piece to add to someone’s board, but in chess the king must be hoarded away like the vulnerable figurehead he is. Important, but not used for anything but to keep his side alive.

Amongst his uncertainties and concerns, Ponk is an annoying yet predictable presence in the following days as Tommy recovers. “Recovery” is a strange gray area when magic is involved, but he can’t complain when he’s exhausted just by sitting up or talking. They visit him multiple times a day, rambling about anything and nothing, juggling papers and pots to give him. 

Tommy goes in and out of consciousness, still unable to stay awake for long periods of time, and he assumes the prince has suffered the same burden since they haven’t had their “important discussion” yet, as the human had so ominously implied in their last meeting. The longer Tommy can without seeing the prick the better. Maybe his feeble royal constitution will lead to him becoming ill, and after enough time has passed so will his interest in Tommy. Because no matter how interested he seemed in Tommy, that spark will diminish. (Even if Tommy can still vividly feel Wilbur’s hand on top of his head, warm and gentle with a softness he’s been long deprived-) Humans have short attention spans. Tommy is just a heart, he is a mystical dragon before he is a person. He is a story, a myth.

He is tired. His chest and ribs hurt. Tommy doesn’t remember the heart-switching ritual sucking this much last time, but he was…  in much better health last time. And he doesn’t think the ancients who first crafted the spell imagined it’d be used twice on the same person within minutes. Tommy had no idea his heart could even be removed from Dream. He assumed… it was a permanent situation. Like, he thought that even though Dream had deceived him and taken away his freedom, they at least were stuck together for eternity. But. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

It feels bad, he feels dumb, like maybe he could’ve done something on his own. But, he still knows nothing about the runes, the magic, or the incantation used and Dream would never have those materials accessible to him, so he couldn’t have saved himself. He couldn’t have. He wanted to.

Or maybe it’s denial. 

Tommy sleeps restlessly more often than not. He has nightmares that toss him awake, paranoia doesn’t let him relax, and he’s unused to the luxurious amenities he’s been offered. A full meal sits uncomfortably in his gut, and a full night’s rest leaves him with headaches and burning eyes.

“You’re improving little by little, Tommy! You were all skin and bones when you arrived- and so pale, too.” Ponk rambles.

It’s been- what, a week? However short it’s been, Tommy can’t imagine he’s changed so much. His hands still look thin and bloodless to him.

He nods along anyway, humoring the doctor.

“You’ll be up and about in no time- I’ve been talking with Sam again about your leg. With the sustained injury you had, we’re not sure…”

Tommy can’t be too bothered to pay attention to what the doctor rattles on about to him. He isn’t interested in the current affairs of the empire, nor what his recovery process will look like. He’d rather close his eyes and rest. It’s exhausting just listening to people talk.

Sometimes he opens his eyes and it still hits him, that this is really happening. Tommy is in the Antarctic Empire. The very thought makes his head spin with vertigo and his meager appetite fades from the nausea. It’s ridiculous, what is Tommy doing here? Him, little ol’ Tommy, in the far north? Why would he be here?

But then the steady beat of someone else’s heart reminds him.

❀❀❀

The next time a royal visits him, it is not the prince. Wilbur was still nowhere to be seen, probably just as exhausted as Tommy was from being part of an ancient ritual that displaced one of your internal organs.

 Instead, it’s the Emperor of the Antarctic Empire that greets Tommy on a cloudy morning dull and slate gray.

And Tommy is a lot of things- a gremlin, an annoyance, and a troublemaker, but he knows when he has to show respect to someone. As much as he would love to tell the fucker to piss off, he knows the consequences of disrespecting an emperor. It’s survival instinct that schools him.

So Tommy bites his cheek when Philza makes himself comfortable in a seat by his bed, instead of cursing out the old prick

“Hello, your majesty.”

“Oh, good morning, mate- and please, you can just call me Phil. There’s no need for us to be so formal,” the emperor commands.

Tommy nods soundlessly. He keeps his hands laced together and eyes downwards.

He hates the faux comfort in the atmosphere. The emperor sits relaxed with a laid-back smile on his face but if he’s anything like Dream, he’s sizing Tommy up. Testing him. Maybe he’s trying to trick Tommy, or maybe he’s that confident in himself. It’s some weird power play since Dream would rather be stabbed than be viewed as defenseless like this.

Quiet as a soft breeze, a knight stands next to the emperor’s seat.

The emperor tilts his head, “I hope you don’t mind my guest. This is Technoblade, my most trusted advisor. He rules by my side and keeps my empire safe.”

"Prime knows he needs the help," Technoblade scoffs.

Philza doesn't turn red with fury or scold Technoblade- no, he laughs. He laughs as one does with an old friend, unbridled and joyful. It reminds Tommy of how Dream used to laugh with him, and Sapnap, and George, but then-

Tommy glances over to Technoblade. He surprisingly recognizes the man- he’s the soldier who killed Dream, but back then he was too far away to garner any details besides the long pink hair. Of course it wouldn’t be any normal knight who’d get the honor of killing a king, but the confidant of the emperor himself. 

Tommy looks over Technoblade’s uniform, his blue coat dotted with medals honoring his achievements on the battlefield, the lapels adorned with golden stripes, and a red heart insignia pinned to his chest. 

Technoblade is not a mere foot soldier but Philza’s right-hand man. He is the second beating heart of the empire, and when Tommy looks up to meet his gaze, red reptilian irises stare back at him. 

He stifles a gasp.

Tommy knew the Antarctic Empire had two leaders, but he never knew that one was a dragon like him.

It’s-it’s unimaginable to him. Besides the fact there were no rumors that ever spoke of Technoblade’s inhuman nature, why would a dragon hold such an important position? Unless- unless the two hadn’t switched hearts? Then Techno would be his own person. That still wouldn’t make sense…

Dragons are treasures. They don’t hold positions of power.

“It’s no bother, I don’t mind at all,” Tommy belatedly answers. No one berates him for it.

“That’s good. I heard a lot of rumors in my younger days that dragons don’t tend to get along with each other, that they get territorial but Techno tells me that’s something humans made up.”

“Humans call us territorial but they’re the ones who wear their vain crowns and draw their maps with kingdoms divided, and go to war when someone crosses their lines in the sand,” Technoblade rolls his eyes.

Phiza chuckles, “Mate, don’t pretend like you don’t like those ‘vain crowns’ and conquering other lands.”

“It is pretty fun,” Technoblade flashes a dangerous grin, showing off his mouth full of razor-sharp teeth.

His brain screams run, run, danger, predator, but his heart stays steady and calm.

Tommy watches on, slightly amazed. Despite how it should be, the two speak on equal terms, there’s never a moment where the dragon submits to the authority of the emperor. 

It’s an odd sight. 

They… they must share hearts. There’s a familiar dissonance in the air, the same tang of magic that follows the two of them surrounds Tommy. Surely, if Tommy found the strength to, if he pried open the human’s chest he’d find gold beating instead of red. 

And- and there is the way they talk just by glancing at each other. The slight movements and instinctual understanding of the other. He can see Technoblade tilt his head, and something about that makes Philza sit up straighter. They could be gossiping about Tommy right in front of his face, the bastards!

Their bond is nothing like Tommy and Dream had, where it was always Tommy’s job to listen, obey, and understand the rules. Tommy was a treasure, he was Dream’s treasure. 

These two Antarctic rulers act like what it would be like to spend centuries with someone you trusted. Tommy wonders what it's like to know your heart is somewhere safe. 

It sounds like a beautiful dream.

It sounds impossible. So- Tommy must be missing something. He must. He has been called dense a lot in his lifetime.

“What- what has brought you here today?” Tommy asks, cringing. Maybe he should have stayed silent.

"Oh, I’ve gotten sidetracked. This is just a simple check-up. How have you been, Tommy?" The emperor asks.

"... I've been fine, your majesty. Your doctors say I am well.”

“You do look like you’re doing better. If your health somehow got worse while in our care, one of the imperial doctor’s necks would be on the line.” Philza laughs like he just told a joke. Tommy doesn’t think he did. “But how are you feeling, Tommy?”

His mind stutters. Didn’t he already answer this? “I- I’m in no pain?”

“Yes, yes, but you’re in a new country. You’re far from your home. Is there anything bothering you? Something you miss? Because if there is, I want to help you. I wouldn’t be much of a good leader if I didn’t help.”

“I’m fine,” Tommy repeats, because that’s the polite thing to say. 

It’s not like he’s deluded about his position here, he’s well aware there’s a new human with his heart but the chains look the same. Bringing up any of his ill-contentment is useless and it would probably offend Emperor Philza.

So, he’s fine.

“Mate, I know the past few days must have been harrowing, confusing, but I only wish to help you. If anything is distressing you, you can tell me or any servants who are attending to you. If you want something, you can ask for it. I'll try to deliver to the best of my abilities. You’re part of the Antarctic Empire now, and it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

"Thank you for the hospitality," Tommy lowers his head. He just wants his unwanted visitors to leave.

“It’s what should be expected, my empire doesn’t get its reputation from nowhere. If you-”

Philza makes a lot of pretty promises, but Tommy knows what humans are like. They lie shamelessly, so the easy-going smile on the man’s face gives away nothing. He could be a cruel monster under that cover of niceness, with teeth sharper than Technoblade’s that’ll tear him to shreds.

Dream smiled nicely while he lied through his fucking teeth, too. 

Tommy knows monsters because when he lost his heart the first time, it was not done so viciously. No, Dream was his best friend, and Tommy wanted to help him. And what better way to help his friend than to offer him a way to stay safe? Tommy knew the dangers of handing away his heart, his heart which was a fabled thing of myth. Hunters would stake him in the chest to destroy its power, witches would kill for it to use it in potions, and greedy kings wouldn’t hesitate to hurt him to gain immortality. But Dream wasn’t like the other humans, he was nice. He was good. 

So Tommy willingly stepped into that circle with a smile on his face and a heart full of trust and played into the game exactly as Dream wanted him to.

And now Philza is saying the same impossibly nice things. Tommy’s not going to be a naive fool this second time around.

… All humans do is lie.

“-and maybe after the land distribution conflict ends, we could even visit the SMP. Only if you want to, though. But we could go see any sights you miss, or if you have somewhere else-”

“You should go take a breather, Phil. You’re rambling,” Technoblade suggests- no, commands. There is no room for argument in the way the soldier speaks.

The emperor's smile drops slightly but, to Tommy’s absolute shock, he doesn’t yell at Technoblade’s impudence. Philza simply nods and gets up from his seat, closing the door behind him and leaving the two dragons alone in the room. Tommy’s jaw wants to drop in disbelief that Technoblade could order around the emperor so easily.

“Kid.”

Tommy does not squeak when Technoblade addresses him, no way, he’s not intimidated at all. (But he can feel from the heavy static in the air that Technblade is a very strong dragon. Not that Tommy isn’t a big man, but Technoblade is something much, much older than him.)

Slowly, Tommy curls up a little more.

Technoblade snorts, “Jeez, relax, you look like you’re about to dislocate your shoulders just by hunching over like that.”

“I am perfectly relaxed, er, sir.”

What title did Technoblade have? Knights were always ‘sir,’ emperors ‘your majesty,’ but Technoblade was technically both and neither.

Technoblade huffs, “Sure, and I don’t know how to use this sword.”

The soldier gestures his sheathed sword, assumedly the same one Tommy saw him use to kill Dream with. That’s- what he said was definitely a threat, right? Right? What the fuck, man?

“Sorry, then? I mean, my apologies,” Tommy wilts, head still tilted downwards. When he hears Technoblade groan in irritation, his heart rate rockets in fear.

“You- you-” Technoblade stumbles over his words.

He, he?

“You know you’re going to be fine, right? I heard where Dream was keepin’ you- down in the dungeons and all that- and that’s not going to happen again. You’re an honored citizen of the empire now, and we don’t go mistreating our own. It would be on my own pride if we hurt you.”

“Thank you, then,” he says flatly.

“You don’t have to trust us, I’m not askin’ you to. All I’m saying is that Phil isn’t a liar or a cruel man. You’ll see in time what a fool he is, but he’s a compassionate fool.”

“I…” Tommy wavers, “I do not expect anything grand. There is no need to act like the good guys now. It’s not like there was much debate on my- in coming here. It simply is.”

The soldier does not respond right away. The silence feels heavy enough to crush Tommy.

Technoblade sighs pointedly, “Okay, I’m going to give it to you plain, kid. Our intentions for taking down the SMP weren’t purely altruistic. We broke into the palace hoping to find Dream’s dragon and to switch their heart with Wilbur. I’d do anything to keep him safe, and he’s safer out there with your heart. I don’t regret that.”

“I assumed as much,” Tommy nods.

“Yes. I want to keep Wilbur safe, so right now you won’t be allowed outside the palace and we’ll be keeping a close eye on you and your whereabouts- but you’re not going to be locked up like some prisoner. We’re not going to do… what Dream did.”

Tommy doesn't dare hope, he doesn’t spend a second entertaining the idea that the man is speaking the truth. Tommy won’t be like Techno, who is clearly close to his human. He’s not like the rest of them. They will prioritize Wilbur’s safety over his any day, it’s the clear reality. They do not know Tommy and they love Wilbur.

Maybe it’s still naive of him, but he doesn’t believe selfishness is a sin to condemn. Cruelty, violence, isolation are not things he can forgive, but selfishness? Dragons love hoarding valuables and priceless things all for themselves. He knows what it is like to want for the world, and these people have their own wishes. They’re not bad, he’s sure of it, but they’re also not good.

It sucks he’s caught in the middle of the whims of these humans. 

“You don’t have to feel…” Tommy hums, “ guilty, sir, if that is what you’re trying to convey. I understand my situation.” 

“No, it’s not like that, kid. I-well actually-”

“I’m not a kid,” he interrupts.

“What?”

“I’m not a kid, I’m a big man. The biggest.”

“... heh?”

“You keep calling me a kid, and from one big man to another, don’t treat me like I’m dumb. I’m not a child.”

Technoblade’s eyebrows furrow in pure confusion, “You literally are a child.”

“Humans consider the age of adulthood to range from thirteen to twenty one and I am far older than that-”

“But you’re not human.”

“Details, details, that’s semantics,” he waves his hand.

“Okay, Sure. Whatever.” Technoblade shrugs, “What I was saying was that I’m not guilty- no, that’s not, er, phrasing. It’s not because of guilt that we want to help you… if that makes sense?”

Tommy slumps against a pillow, “Oh. We’re still talking about… that. I said that I understood, big man, don’t worry so much.”

Technoblade turns away from Tommy, very much still worrying.

“Why am I the one doing this…?” Technoblade whispers, mostly to himself.

On instinct, Tommy apologizes, “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No, I-” Technoblade shakes his head in defeat. 

Tommy doesn’t see why the two leaders of the empire took their time to see him like this. This wasn’t an interrogation, or if it was, it was a very bad one. But Tommy didn’t tell them anything they didn’t already know, and he feels even more confused than when they started.

Before Tommy chokes on the awkward silence, Phil pops his head into the room, “Hello, how is it…”

The emperor’s icy eyes scan over the room, taking in Technoblade’s face full of disbelief and Tommy, who quickly looks away to avoid eye contact.

“... Ah.”

“Wilbur is better at heart to hearts,” Technoblade leans back and mutters, and Tommy isn’t sure if he was supposed to hear him.

The two have another one of those silent conversations, where Technoblade raises a brow, Philza frowns, and then they both sigh. 

The emperor turns to Tommy and says, “I’m so sorry to cut this short, mate, but Technoblade and I have a meeting with our advisors soon.”

“It’s okay. Thank you for visiting,” Tommy smiles thinly. 

“It was lovely to spend some time together. I hope in the future we get to know each other better.”

“As do I.”

“Then, farewell for now. Technoblade, are you coming?”

Unlike the emperor’s quiet temperament, Technoblade’s displeasure is clear at having to follow an order he doesn’t want to. The soldier grits his teeth and grumbles about something as he follows Philza out of the room.

It’s a relief to hear the sound of fading footsteps, but his chest still twists with something bitter.

See, Tommy was young once and he did not heed the warnings he was given.

They used to say, ‘If you do not enter the dragon’s cave, you will not catch its hatchling.’ 

It’s a dumb saying, in his humble opinion. Humans said it to goad each other, promising riches for the brave and strong. 

When there were more dragons about, it was easier to steal the young ones. Sure, a mother scorned will burn the whole continent to the ground, but better to tame a child than let it grow up into something dangerous. This is how humans work: they see something powerful and see it as a threat, then they try to break it down into something they can comprehend easily.

So, rich men and kings sent their men with heavy bags of gold to fetch the dragon hatchlings. They achieved the immortality such greedy men always desire, but their enemies knew how to kill them permanently. So these men and their dragons fell one by one. Now dragons are few in number, but there are just as many selfish kings.

Emperor Philza’s promises about ‘doing whatever it takes to take care of him’ is absurd. And Tommy wasn’t sure if Technoblade’s words were anything he could believe, either. He admitted he didn’t regret what he did, because he wanted to protect Wilbur, but he also said Tommy was an ‘honored citizen.’ Everyone else talks about Tommy’s health, Tommy’s stay in the castle, Tommy this, Tommy that- but they’re all strangers to him. He doesn’t matter in this new place. 

He doesn’t care about any of these new people, either. So, if they all could start minding their business and stop bothering him, that’d be great.

❀❀❀

“Hello, I’m Sam, the-”

“The Antarctic family’s imperial engineer, I know. Ponk has mentioned you. A lot.” Tommy deadpans, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

Sam flushes slightly, “Oh. I see. Then- then you’re aware I’m here to get your measurements to design a leg brace for you?”

“A… brace?”

Tommy hums in confusion as Sam lays out some schematics in front of him, extremely detailed and hard to follow or understand. 

“Yes, for your injured leg. You won’t be able to use it right away, you’re going to need to practice a lot to get the hang of walking with a brace first, but eventually you’ll be up on your feet again.”

Tommy nods along to Sam’s explanation, even if it doesn’t make sense to him. His leg… is broken. Dream snapped the bones himself.

Ponk adds, “But before you can even entertain practicing walking around with the brace, we need to build your strength. You have a lot of atrophied muscles and need to redevelop them to use the brace without strain. So we need to take things slow or you could hurt yourself even more in the long run.”

Their words roll around in his skull, uncomfortably clinking together like marbles. The royal family should be overjoyed that the dragon they’ve snatched can’t even walk, but they’re letting him heal? 

He never expected to run again.

Technoblade’s words ring in the back of his head. The man seemed to be truthful with him, even if it’s for reasons Tommy can’t understand- they took him because of Wilbur, but they do not intend to be malicious. That’s what Technoblade and Philza promised. Tommy still would’ve expected them to keep him off his feet for ease of monitoring him. Tommy’s leg was damaged for that reason, and now the Empire has a conveniently grounded dragon in their grasp.

If they want to truly keep Wilbur safe, they should know Tommy is best this way. He can’t go get himself into trouble.

For the millionth time during his stay here- during his kidnapping, if he’s honest with himself- Tommy feels dumb. There are things he’s not understanding that he should because they concern him and his future here.

No matter what the other dragon promised to Tommy, he’s a prisoner. Whether he’s locked in a room too small to even pace in or has the entire castle’s premises to roam, he is not free to take his heart back and leave, since that’d go against everything the empire did to secure him. Everyone has a motive they don’t want to clearly state, even Sam and Ponk. Even Phil, Technoblade, and Wilbur. Tommy will not overlook that and believe their easy lies, their saccharine manipulations.

An Antarctic engineer creating a brace for him… there is a catch, even there. Tommy will never be truly free again.

That truth isn’t as devastating as it should be. Tommy knows better than to believe his life is all his, and honestly he doesn’t know what he’d do with freedom if he got it, too used to being a locked-up treasure for humans to hoard. Where would he even go? What would he do?

He doesn’t have the energy to rage about the lack of choice. He is tired.

His death isn’t even his to control. If Tommy gained the courage to slit his own throat, he’d be kept alive by the human holding his heart. Their lives are tied and bound so that he doesn’t even get the choice to end his own sorry existence. He’d just end up becoming a useless tool.

“Do you have any questions or concerns?” Sam says softly.

Of course, he wants to say. What’s the catch? What price must I pay? Am I expected to take on a debt? Who asked for this? What am I missing? What do you get out of this? What does Wilbur get?

“No, I’m fine. Thank you, sir.”

❀❀❀

Tommy wakes from another fretful sleep in the middle of the night because of his broken leg. It burns with a sharp, pulsing pain that won’t allow him any peace. He ignores the shimmering health pot by his bedside, he’s not weak enough to need it. And honestly, the doctors have had him drink so many he’s doubting his liver can keep up, at this point they have to be bad for his health.

So he breathes in and out slowly, trying to get his mind off the stabbing pain shooting up and down his shin.

He likes it better when it’s night and the castle is quiet, most of the inhabitants asleep barring the guards keeping night watch. There’s no one hovering over his shoulder at the slightest hint of discomfort. Newsflash, bitches, Tommy hasn’t had a moment of comfort since he arrived in the Antarctic.

He is constantly sick to his stomach for reasons he cannot discern. 

The world is not right. It spins, but not the same.

Dream is gone. 

Tommy knows that, has known that, he saw Technoblade kill Dream but he still has to remind himself it was real. Tommy saw the blood. But for a long time, Tommy and Dream were each on half of a whole.

It doesn’t help that there was such little time to take it all in. The evening of the invasion went by so fast. One moment Tommy was living life as it had always been, then with a breath everything changed. 

He is no longer Dream’s.

He can’t help how much his heart pangs at the thought- in sadness or relief, he isn’t sure.

Maybe at the end things got twisted, but for a little while Dream and him were friends. Tommy never had anyone else before and then he met someone as mischievous as himself. They pulled so many pranks and heists together and Tommy trusted the human more than anyone he’d ever met before.

It’s surreal that Dream is really gone. Maybe he had been a dick, but there are the good times that still glow golden in his memory. 

He remembers one time before- before everything went wrong, Tommy had convinced Dream to sneak out of the castle with him to go steal fruit from the merchants’ stands. A ship had just arrived from somewhere far away on the other side of the sea, with books full of stories Tommy had never heard before. Tommy longed for foreign horizons and Dream longed for freedom. And with fingers still stained red from eating berries, Dream and him clasped hands and swore to explore the world together someday. Dream looked so certain when he said it that Tommy had no doubt it would happen and that it would be the best thing ever.

That was… a long, long time ago. Obviously, it never happened.

Tommy wishes- maybe, maybe not- that he could’ve talked to Dream one last time. For answers, maybe. To yell at him.

To cry.

And Dream might’ve laughed at him, but he might’ve cried too. Would he feel bad? Would he apologize? Or would he-

It’s… too late to entertain such thoughts. Dream breathes no more. There will be no redemption and damnation, just the living and the dead.

And, unfortunately, Tommy is the one who lives.

He shifts to the edge of his bed. The simple action winds him and it’s infuriating. He used to be better than this, so much more.

Tommy has been practicing simple stretches and exercises given to him by Ponk, but he hasn’t left this fucking bed without assistance since he woke up here.

With zero grace, he tumbles out of bed. His knees hit the ground first with enough force to bruise him. But the cold bite of tile feels like a gift after drowning in blanket after blanket. There is no one there to witness his embarrassing struggle to move across the floor towards the window, nor anyone to watch him flail and tear the curtains open.

Tommy is not relieved when he succeeds. He looks over the nighttime landscape of the empire that greets him, the moon waning in the sky. The stars seem brighter in the pitch-black sea above.

Frost gathers around the window pane. It’s so fucking cold here. The cold air that permeates through the glass makes Tommy shiver. There’s an unpleasant chill that hasn’t left him since he woke up in the far north. He’s never liked the cold, it’s part of his reptilian nature and it's probably part of the reason he’s been so lethargic, and it sucks. It sucks here. Why couldn't some royal from- from Kinoko or somewhere else nice have kidnapped him? 

Tommy does not sleep. He watches the slow crawl of the moon across the sky, occasionally obscured by clouds.

He’s figured out why he hates the mountains so much. In the night the silvery moonlight shines off the snow and makes the shadowy monoliths glow. They are so much bigger than him. Like this, Tommy is aware of how small, how inconsequential he is. 

While he was a treasure in the SMP, albeit mistreated, Tommy means nothing here.