Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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At the beginning of the story, his name was Tommy.

Now, say hello to him, because this is the end to a beginning and the beginning of an end. This is a myth's first page and a legend’s last. This is the opening of the story of a boy named Tommy, just a boy named Tommy, and how his world ended, but his eyes opened for the first time.

And on the last page of the eulogy, well, his name was still Tommy.

Hello, Tommy.

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Tommy tried not to let the windowsill creak as he perched on it, balancing on his toes as he cracked the window open. Cold night air drifted in, carrying in the faint traces of his mother’s garden, wild trees and shrubs, sparkling frost, and freedom. 

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at his bedroom. The elegant king-size bed was untidy and the blankets were rumpled to look like someone was sleeping underneath. His desk was also extremely disorganised; parchments and papers were strewn everywhere, along with quills, bottles of ink, random stones from the garden, and other miscellaneous items of the sort. Maybe he should organise it a bit before leaving.

For a brief moment, a hint of guilt edged into his mind. This was something completely against everything Technoblade, the beautiful, shining Crown Prince and flawless older brother would do to relax. And if King Phil were to find out…

Tommy shuddered. He would rather not face the wrath of his father. However, the lure of adventure and fun was just so tempting that Tommy couldn’t resist.

A shaft of moonlight slipped into the room, falling on a golden crown embedded with emeralds and rubies on Tommy’s nightstand. It seemed to be forgotten as the young Son of the Lady Death, Brother to the God of Blood, Prince of the Kingdom of L’Manberg climbed out the window and was gone with the swish of a cloak.

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The fresh air was exhilarating to Tommy as he quietly lowered himself down the walls of the castle, feeling the wind rustle his cape and tug at him. It teased him for every spike of fear when the guards changed positions, taunted him every time his grip on the stone slipped, and above all, scolded him for his horrible choices.

If Tommy concentrated a bit, he might’ve heard his mother’s voice carrying on the breeze, shrieking at him. The thought alone caused him to stifle a giggle. He could imagine very clearly falling asleep and dreaming of the wheat fields of death, the look of horror and anger on his mother’s face as she scolded him about the dangers of being out at night, his recklessness and rebellious nature, Techno’s flawless behaviour, and I’m-going-to-make-sure-you-never-see-the-light-of-day-again, and Thomas-Innes-Craft-what-goes-through-your-head-every-day.

However, that would unfortunately never happen, since Tommy wasn’t going to get caught.

The wind whipped his oversized hood into his eye. “Fvck!” Tommy swore loudly, then immediately snapped his mouth shut, glancing at the guards. He hoped none of them heard that.

Somewhat clumsily, Tommy dropped off the stone wall and landed in the soft young grass waiting below. He took a few moments to tuck his wild golden curls back under his hood and wrap his cloak more securely around his body. With his clothing and cape completely black and hair out of sight, he sort of blended into the night, which was a relief. 

When a prince was sneaking out, he wouldn’t want to be seen.

As quietly as possible, he crept across the grass, carefully avoiding the drier parts littered with frost-covered sticks and leaves, remnants of the winter, and treading lightly on the soft young shoots. He had been getting taller and clumsier, unfortunately; it was now harder to remain hidden.

His foot caught on something dry that crunched. Tommy froze, his eyes widening.

He stole another glance at the guards. They were looking in the opposite direction, clearly more concerned about intruders than a break-out. Tommy smirked; it was clear they did not know much about their youngest prince and was oblivious to his shenanigans.

The feeling he got when passing through the forest border is something akin to careful ecstasy. Tommy made his way quietly through the shrubs and vines, feeling the familiar leaves and thorns tug and catch at his gloves and clothes as he pushed them out of the way. He slid through a bush to the path with the least danger of ripping his gloves, staying silent and cautious until he had crept a good distance into the woods. Then, he broke into a run.

The forest creatures egged him on as he sprinted through the woods, peeking their heads from their hiding spots to watch this odd, finely-dressed teenage boy rushing over moss and leaves, hopping logs and small streams. The birds of prey watched warily from their nests, but gave hoots and chirps of encouragement as he sped by.

Tommy’s breath came as the heavy splash of rain over sizzling red coals with each heavy footstep, fast and short through his mouth, puffing and smoky until he struggled to breathe. The early spring chill made its home in his bones, numbing the fire running through his veins. He stumbled on a tree root but kept running, unable to stop the exhilarated laughter from bubbling out.

The chains snapped off his wings and he broke through the forest line, into the silver bath of unobstructed moonlight and millions upon billions of stars. The politely twinkling pinpricks upon the velvet curtain of the sky were finally clear to see, which is a welcome sight, as the harsh lights of the palace of L’Manberg often drowned them out.

Tommy took a deep breath of clear, clean air, tilting his head back at the sky. He lowered his hood and laughed to the Heavens. “Another win for the Biggest Man Theseus!” Then, excitedly, he hurried down the hill, shuffling sideways to avoid falling, down to the simple havens of the common citizens below.

He was hit with the familiar scent of petrichor and smoke from lamps and torches, stinging and soothing all at once. Gone were the hollow, lifeless grand halls of the dreadful and cold castle, replaced by a sort of warmth that never seemed to leave the busy streets of market stands and simple houses of the common folk. 

“Good evening, Tommy!” called a young man closing up his seafood stall for the night. His sun-kissed hands, rough from the sea, packed his hand-caught fish into crates of salt with familiar skill. He grinned at the prince with his ugly worn blue flannel and choppy barely-existing hair, in all his villager glory.

Such disrespect.

“Hullo, Jack L’Manifold.” Tommy strolled over with an easy smile. He leaned against the cart, watching as Jack hefted a crate onto the cart with surprising ease. “How’s the business going?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it that,” Jack laughed. “It’s just me, working my ar5e off by myself, whenever I want. Not exactly a ‘business.’”

“How much?”

“Almost three aurums,” Jack beamed proudly. He patted his pocket. “More than yesterday!”

Tommy frowned slightly. He probably had three aurums lying around in the corners of his bedroom. “That’s still not a lot.”

“Not a lot?” Jack scoffed, heaving the last of the boxes onto the cart. “I’m sure you’re incredibly wealthy yourself. You wouldn’t need the money, huh?” He then grinned at Tommy. “I’ll bet that raggedy little cape is worth thousands of diamonds.”

Tommy swallowed. “Oh, yeah, it totally is. Was. Is. Say, uh, have you seen Tubbo?”

“Tubbo? The homeless kid?” Jack’s brows pinched a bit, but he didn’t question the sudden change of topic. “He’s still around. Why?”

“Oh, um, no reason. Just curious. Wanted to see how the local street goat has been doing, that’s all.” Tommy chuckled awkwardly, shuffling backward. “Well, I’ll see you around, Manifold!”

He didn’t wait for a response, opting to just move on from that awkward interaction.

As Jack’s stall moved out of sight, Tommy breathed a sigh, his walking pace slowing. The streets of the town began to widen out to make room for horses and carts as Tommy strolled along. The uneven, jagged stones of the road are a welcomed feeling, a fresh break from the smooth marble floors of the castle.

Tommy smiled at the stars, and they smiled back.

As he continued down the road, he took a turn down a smaller path that led to the woods. The lingering smell of smoke and pine soon cleared out, and insect song became audible with the melody of a flute. His boots crunched on twigs and leaves littering the floor.

“I smell a fresh-baked goat pie,” Tommy announced loudly.

The piping stopped.

Pushing past thickets of tangled vines, he reached the edge of the woods where a grassy, moon-kissed clearing welcomed him. There was a single tree, a large apple tree standing next to a small, cosy-looking cottage with smoke still drifting from its chimney.

A boy with fluffy, overgrown brown hair sat atop a half-sunken boulder with his furry goat legs crossed. In his lap he held a set of panpipes and on his face he held a scowl. “You know, your goat comments aren’t funny anymore.”

“I think they’re hilarious.” Tommy smiled.

“Tommy.”

“Sorry, Tubbo.”

Tubbo sighed. “What do you want, Tommy? More tea? More biscuits?” He hopped off the boulder with a grumble. “It’s always more tea, more biscuits.”

“...Actually, no, but that’d be lovely.” Tommy put on his sweetest, most dazzling princely smile as he followed Tubbo to the cottage.

Years of experience reminded Tommy to duck as he entered through the doorway after Tubbo. The doorframe had never been tall enough since his fifteenth birthday, and the satyr had always been small, at least in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy made himself comfortable at the table, tossing back his cloak and tipping back on the chair precariously.

Tubbo rolled his eyes from where he started up the fire. “That’s not very proper, Tommy.”

“Fuck you. Hurry up with the biscuits.”

Tubbo huffed and threw a biscuit at him, and Tommy caught it on instinct. He stuffed it in his mouth. “So, how are things in town?”

Tubbo shrugged as he sat down across from Tommy. “Same as always. Jack is still saving up.”

Right. Jack Manifold, the guy he saw earlier. He made three aurums today. “What… was he saving for again?”

“A ticket to Snowchester. He wants to find his twin, remember?” Tubbo frowned, saddened by the reminder of the poor villager’s situation.

“Niki. Right.” Tommy shifted. “She’s probably dead.”

“He doesn’t believe that.”

Silence fell between the two. Then, Tubbo spoke up.

“That odd one came over the other day.”

“The odd one?” Tommy raised an eyebrow. “Like the blond guy?”

“Yeah. I finally got his name, too.” Tubbo leaned forward ominously. “It’s Purpled . Like the colour . He came over and asked me if I wanted to join him on a quest in finding a library book he lost, or something.”

“Or something?”

“Hey, I don’t know what he said! Nevadas people have odd accents.”

“Ah, he’s from Nevadas.” Tommy tutted and reached for another biscuit. “So, what’d you say?”

“I said yes.”

“Why?” Tommy stuffed the rest of the biscuit into his mouth.

“I don’t know.” Tubbo rested his chin on his hand. “It just feels right, I guess.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. He once again wondered what led him to become friends with this oddball of a satyr. What kind of gut instinct led one on a quest to recover another’s misplaced book? “It’s a library book. It’s not that complicated.”

“But I feel like… Like I have to do it. He was so serious about it, too.” Tubbo narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’m sure I wouldn’t, wise one,” Tommy said mockingly as he reached for another biscuit. This time, Tubbo smacked his hand away from the plate, and Tommy scowled. “How long do you suppose it will take?”

“Hopefully not too long.”

“It’s a library book. All you need to do is find it. How long could it possibly take?” Tommy commented rhetorically. He grinned. “Hey, speaking of which, do you know where the homeless— I mean, Purpled — is staying?”

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- End of I: Theseus

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Chapter Text

Page I

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“Say, Tommy, have you heard the story of Icarus?”

Tommy could feel the crisp water of the pond washing gently over his bare feet. The summer day was a rare one. He was free of all his duties as the prince of the kingdom of L’Manberg, and his older brother was home from the foreign affairs that kept him away. It was an opportunity that didn’t come by often.

“No, you haven’t told me about that one.”

“I haven’t told you about Icarus?” Technoblade frowned.

The beloved Crown Prince Alexander, who went by Technoblade, was Tommy’s older brother, though they were nothing alike. Techno was all about gold jewellery and deep blood velvet, a long pink braid and a gruff, nonchalant attitude hiding a surprisingly affectionate nature and a passion for books. 

“Icarus, the boy who flew too close to the sun.” Techno hummed. “He and his father, Daedalus, escaped their prison by constructing wings from feathers and wax and flying out. Icarus, exhilarated by the sensation of soaring so high, ignored his father’s warnings and flew too close to the sun.”

“The sun melted the wax?” Tommy picked up a small, flat stone and tossed it hard. It skipped across the smooth surface of the pond, sending round ripples out into the mirror-like water, scattering the quick little silver fish, smashing the crystalline reflection of the blue, blue sky, the white, white clouds, the loving image of two princes on a lazy August afternoon.

Once, twice, thrice, four times.

After a few moments, the water smoothed out like nothing had ever disturbed it. 

“And Icarus fell into the ocean and drowned,” Technoblade finished. 

“That’s a stupid ending. And a dumb way to die.”

“It’s a great way to die.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because of it, everyone knew his name.” Technoblade leaned back, turning his face to the sun, and for a moment, it seemed there was a silhouette in the sky. For a single moment, as he observed the most beautiful boy with the most beautiful wings who’d never reach manhood, his long pink hair seemed to be weaved with strands of light, those ruby eyes tinged with gold. 

If Tommy squinted enough, his brother was almost as immortal as Icarus.

Almost.

“Do you think it was worth it? Cutting out a legacy from your life?” Tommy asked the most beautiful prince with the most beautiful mind who’d always speak the most compelling words. “Surely, everyone would rather live to be happy than live to be known?”

“Sometimes, happiness isn’t enough. After all, what use is your existence if you don’t do something with it?” Technoblade closed his eyes. Tommy had wished he knew what that meant. Now, he did.

“How come Icarus is a hero? He didn’t do anything to deserve that title.”

“Well, good things don’t happen to heroes.”

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- End of Page I

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Chapter Text

Milk speaking—

Just gonna get to the point here, I don't think I will be finishing this work. Or creating anything more with the DSMP.

I've been finding it increasingly difficult to create art and writing with the Dream SMP. It's pretty hard making fancontent about characters who are now tainted by the actions of several individuals. I definitely do agree with separating the art from the artist and allat, but it's just. not great, with Wilbur and the Dream Team and all those other controversial people behind all of it. Can't even look at those good happy memories without being reminded of the horrible people involved.

It does not feel great when your beloved fandom is revealed to be full of pedophiles and groomers and abusers and narcissists and people who can't take accountability for their actions and

it feels a lot like betrayal is what I'm saying.

If I'm being honest, it feels like this fandom is falling apart. New drama every other week, people fighting all the time, disgusting allegations, stuff like that isn't the stuff I love, right? This is not the kind of fandom I want to be in. I don't want to feel ashamed and guilty for things I did not do and did not cause. I don't want to be disappointed every time something is updated.

The Dream SMP has been my main interest for a while now. I love it and the community very very much. It will always be super incredibly verily important to me. Always a special place in my heart for it /ref. The content creators I still support will always be comforting for me. And I'll always always always be the number 1 GoldenDuo lover <3

But all that stuff mentioned above is, bluntly put, destroying it.

This is not the fandom I joined years ago. This is not the content I fell in love with. Everything has changed and I think it's time for me to move on as well.

Thank you to everyone who've been in here with me. My friends and readers and fellow artists on Tumblr and Discord and the Wiki and everyone, really. I appreciate you guys a lot. It was amazing getting to know and creating with you all. I'll be skedaddling off to find other interests now.

Thank you for reading.

Sincerely,
Milk