Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Tommy was ever taught is that the kingdom of Akira, the most powerful country, is split into two parts.

65% of the kingdom was once called Sooninghem. Which, in the old language, would directly translate to “calming place”.

Sooninghem was the kind of place children dream about. Filled to the brim with enchanted forests, decorated with humble cottages and an immense palace, and inhabited by magical beings of all sorts.

Then there’s the other 35%. Orikah.

A place with Dark in the soil. “Dark” was the form of magic that infects that land. It gets in the water. It gets in the trees. It gets in the air. It plagues the bloodlines of the generations raised there, giving them all a bloodthirsty personality.

Years ago, the royal family of Akira separated the two parts. An enchanted wall was built to stop the Dark from spreading further, as well as to contain all those who live and breathe it.

Those who lived in Sooninghem decreed that the enchanted wall would act as a border between countries and Orikah was no longer a true part of the kingdom. Sooninghem was renamed “Akira” itself, while Orikah was no longer on the Akirian map.

This only kept peace for maybe a decade before the whispers in the wind warned of upcoming war.

The gossiping has been going on for three whole generations. The royal family refusing to make the first move. Even once the new Orikan government started making small moves that were no more than threats, the other country only played defense. Refusing to call for a draft and send their people to meet Thanatos.

Though, word has spread that the newest Akirian ruler, Queen Kristin, wants to find a way to cleanse the Dark and take back Orikan grounds once and for all.

--------------------------<3----------------------

So here Tommy is. A sixteen-year-old Orikan, who knows that next year, he’ll be of age for someone to knock on his door and take him to go fight a battle he doesn’t want a part of.

Now Tommy isn’t stupid. He knows his dad isn’t his dad. Dream looks nothing like him. Not that Tommy cares to know of his real parents. There’s no system to put kids up for adoption, so obviously he was just abandoned. Screw those people.

Dream is tall. His skin tinted grey, his jaw a bit crooked, and his eyes are a thing of nightmares. Well, Tommy has never seen his eyes. Dream wears a mesh blindfold to hide them without blocking his own vision. Tommy just knows that Dream is an Orikan species called a Dreamspitter, with the power to manipulate sleeping minds, and they’re known to look terrifying in the eyes.

All Orikans are monsters.

Tommy though, is a Mimicker. Mimickers look just like Akirians, making them dangerous masters of disguise. They only have faint differences that blow their cover. Due to this, Tommy looks just like a fae. He has the long fluffy deer ears and the stubby little tail.  The whole package.

The thing that gives it away that Tommy isn’t a real fae, is the fact that his antlers never grew. They should be long at his age, but they’ve remained as little buds. That’s his main tell, for anyone observant.

Life in Orikah is.. well..

It’s okay, he supposes.

Most of his life has been spent preparing for this inevitable war. He knows stealth and he knows archery and he knows where the vital organs are. He’s perfect.

Except he knows that in a real fight he’ll never last. It’s nothing against him or his training. It’s his body. His sickness.

He hears that his chronic illness is common in Mimickers. He tires easily and his bones ache. Somedays are worse than others, typically in the colder seasons, leaving him lightheaded if he doesn’t wear a mask. Dream says the illness is like allergies, and although they aren’t sure what it is, the mask helps.

It's beginning to enter fall at the moment, so his six months of hell are starting.

Tommy is currently in his bedroom, drawing at his desk. His deer-like ears flicking at the irritation of his mask straps. Screw those Orikan teenagers who made that hole in his window by throwing rocks. Now he has to wear his mask indoors.

His leg bounces under the table, as his quill fixes those teeth that just don’t look right. He’s drawing yet another Orikan animal. The flora and fauna of his country has always been his muse, even if they aren’t the most attractive things in the world. Blame the Dark. It’s practically unnatural to the earth. It makes things evolve in grotesque ways.

When the lines still don’t look the way he wants, he groans and slams the quill down, standing up.

“Tommy.”

Tommy did not, in fact, squeal upon hearing Dream in his doorway. He spins around to see his “dad” leaning on the wall in all his blindfolded glory, wearing mostly dark green.

Dream frowns in disapproval at the blonde’s jumpiness then points to the bow and quiver leaning against the closet. “Did you practice today?”

“Yes, of course I did.” No, of course he didn’t. “I am a very responsible man, Dream. I went out this morning and I-“

“Go practice.” Dream interrupts firmly.

“Fair enough.” He does not have the energy to fight this battle and deny it.

Upon being left alone, the Mimicker gathers his arrows and puts on his shoes. There’s targets at the park that he uses. Orikah is the kind of kingdom to allow knives, hatchets and arrows to be hitting targets, 10 yards away from where children play. Often times it is the children who use them.

In this kingdom, no one feeds anyone love on a silver spoon, so you learn to lick it off of knives. Punching a friend square in the jaw is considered teasing.

Tommy is one of them. He’s got the Dark in his blood. Yet he swears he isn’t on the same level of insanity as his peers. Dream promises that will fix itself with age. Gods, he hope it does.

He hopes that in another world where his antlers grew, he isn’t afraid to use them like spears. He’s told he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with when he becomes a part of the Mimicker team of the army.

The Akirians will mistake him as a regular fae, but a fae would never cause harm to others. No one will notice what he is before he’s already struck. That thought keeps him up at night but he’ll adapt. Tommy doesn’t want to be in the war, but if he’ll be forced, he’s going to try to enjoy it out of spite.

But for now, life is like this, he thinks as he heads out the front door.

Life is slow. His chronic sickness makes his bones ache. He tires easily. His mask itches but it’s better than passing out. Orikans are assholes and he has to remember he’s one of them. Trees are mostly bare all year. Life is like this.

He watches his shoes auto-pilot to the park.

There has to be more to life than this.

--------------------------<3----------------------

Damn it.

Tommy lowers his bow string, standing in the park, with the targets in the grey trees.

He just spotted a group of three Orikans his age, on their way over. Dreamspitters just like Dream. All wearing blindfolds.

He can give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they just want to practice here too, but he doesn’t see any bows or hatchets. Yet they still seem locked on him, so obviously they’re about to become a problem.

Tommy has had his fair share of being tormented. Mimickers are never well appreciated by younger Orikans. They always find it funny to tease him for looking like a fae.

This is his cue to leave. Looks like he’ll be abandoning those three arrows.

“Hey, man!” One of the Dreamspitters calls, sickeningly sweet.

Nope. Absolutely not. He scrams.

Now that they know he’s onto them, he hears their shoes hitting the concrete at a much quicker pace. Crap.

Tommy leaves the park in a haste and runs down the street. It’s not the way to his house but he isn’t in an outstanding position to be making U-turns right now so he’ll have to find a way to loop around later.

“Come here, Bambi!”, another voice calls from the group.

Okay, that was actually a good one.

Tommy’s weak body isn’t built for this and the bouncing of his quiver against his back isn’t helping. He runs passed a few pedestrians down the street, but no one will help him. This is normal in Orikah.

It’s barely past noon. It’s too early for this.

Making a swift decision as he hears the group catching up, he abandons the neighborhood. Making a hard left towards the trees.

The moment he enters the forest, his bow gets snagged on a branch. He doesn’t hesitate to abandon it along with his quiver.

His lungs burn, heaving the recycled oxygen inside his face mask. The calls aren’t that far behind him. Sounds of “pspsps, hey Deerie boy!” and “Where are you going, little buddy!”

Gods, his legs hurt.

Branches slice and cut along his arms, snagging on loose threads in his jacket. He’s fairly sure that the tormentors are drawing this out on purpose. Tommy is already slowing down. If they were actually trying, he’d be caught by now. They want him to exhaust himself.

Tommy’s village, a filthy town called Gronet, is by the Orikan border. The border has no opening to let anyone in or out, meaning no roads lead there. So, the enchanted wall greets him unceremoniously, just randomly on the edge of the forest.

The enchanted wall is an insulting little thing, like the borders around a zoo pen. Chain-link fencing, shorter than most trees.

The only thing that makes it affective is the enchantment. Anyone with Dark in their veins will be burnt upon touching it. Now of course, some Orikans can fly over it, so there is a border patrol. But Tommy knows they won’t be here right now.

Dream made Tommy learn their schedule years ago, to ensure he was never near the fence at the same time they were. He was told that they like to shoot arrows through the fence for fun if they see anyone. Especially Mimickers for having the “audacity” to look like Akirians, while the Dark plagues their DNA.

The other side of the fence is such a stark contrast to Orikah. Like when two oceans collide. The trees are full and healthy, green with peeking tinges of orange that will soon spread. Nothing remotely close to the brittle, dying twigs of the Dark forests. He'll admit. The other side of the border looks so much more pretty--

Hands meet Tommy’s shoulders and push him to the ground, snapping him out of the thoughts that could get him in a lot of trouble.  He uselessly rolls over with a grunt. Did he really have to land on a tree root?

“Hey, buddy.” One of the teenagers, a black haired boy, says, towering over him while the other two get in Tommy’s blind spot. The other two look to be siblings. A brunette boy and girl.

“Fuck off.” Tommy groans, shifting in discomfort as his illness yells at him for all the running.

The black-haired one didn’t like that. He kneels down and Tommy’s heart stutters a bit. Only increasingly as the boy wraps a hand around his ankle.

“Oi!” Tommy kicks but the girl behind him puts a hand under his jaw and yanks his head back to slip a finger under his mask.

The cloth is ripped away, welcoming fresh air that Tommy actually accepts for a moment, but he knows that in the long run, he’s only going to feel more sick.

The first boy yanks at Tommy’s heel and now his foot is cold. Was stealing his shoe necessary?

Tommy doesn’t turn around to watch as they run to the fence and cheer each other on, tossing both items of clothing over the border. He simply lays there, covered in dirt with a sprinkle of shame.

Dream is going to kill him.

All Tommy can do is curse the gods for not letting his antlers grow into spears, while simultaneously praying to them that he won’t be shoved against the enchanted fence, like a witch burnt against a stake.

Some higher being must take pity on him, as the three tormentors leave him alone after one more half-hearted kick at his back.

After giving himself a few minutes to think about life, the blonde boy slowly pushes himself to his feet. Pebbles already poking at his bare sock.

He needs that stupid mask and that stupid shoe. Dream didn’t budget to replace them and he always gets mad when things aren’t in the budget. Especially if Tommy lost them because he couldn’t fight back.

His metallic blue eyes glide over the treetops as the breeze kisses his forehead. There’s- he might be able to-

Nope! Bad idea! He is not about to climb a tree to get over the fence, find his stuff, then come back over. Nuh uh. Is illegal border crossing really a better fate than getting yelled at and maybe sleeping in the bathroom for one night?

He’s not about to—

Yes he is.

He takes a deep breath and starts scaling the best climbing tree he can find. Trying to keep most of his weight on the leg that still has a shoe, to avoid splinters.

He’ll be quick. Just in and out.

He’ll latch onto a tree on the other side, climb down in Akira, find his shoe and mask, then climb back over. Piece of cake.

No one has to know, right?

Chapter Text

This is a terrible idea.

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s thinking.

Well, he does. He’s thinking “I don’t want to sleep on the bathroom floor” which is a common punishment he receives.

It isn’t as bad as it sounds. Dream lets him bring his pillow at least. He’s actually a very patient and kind father in his kingdom’s standards. He’s constantly reminding Tommy how much worse it can be. Some parents beat their children half to death.

Tommy is grateful. Grateful that Dream defaults to more painless penalties. He doesn’t lay a claw on the Mimicker boy. He’s seen the scars and bruises on some of the neighbors’ children. Orikah has no law enforcement. It’s like the Purge out there. The government only pays for the military, to create war.

Tommy is also grateful that Dream makes a fair amount of money. The neighborhood may be lower class and filthy, but most of the kingdom is. A kingdom fueled on brutality is bound to be dysfunctional. So yeah, maybe they aren’t rich. Maybe Dream still budgets tediously for Tommy’s needs, getting pissed off when the costs exceed their normal amount. Like when Tommy outgrows a shirt. And maybe they can’t afford good food, but they can get a decent amount of the food they can afford. They aren’t starving and that’s what matters.

Tommy has it good. So why is he making such a big deal about this? He supposes if it was just the shoe, he would’ve taken the walk of limping shame back home. But that stupid mask! He really doesn’t want to endure headaches and fatigue for the days, until the older man replaces it.

The blonde boy curls his fingers around another branch to steady himself, as he hooks his remaining shoe into a crevice in the trunk.

Nine feet off the ground. He exhales, keeping his eyes on his footing.

The fence is roughly thirteen feet. He’s close.

His eyes are already locked onto a branch on the other side. It’s just close enough that he can use it to hoist himself over. As he tediously moves around to the other side of the trunk, closer to the border, his heartbeat stutters.

Can’t touch the fence. Can’t touch the fence

He remembers that time when Sapnap stayed at their house for a few weeks. “Friendship” is a strong word for Orikans, but Tommy is fairly sure that his relationship with Dream is something close to it. He comes over sometimes and Tommy typically remains in his room, since their conversations get a bit loud and rough, like two teenagers partying.

Last year, Sapnap had come stumbling into their living room, cussing like a sailor, and clutching one of his bat wings. He’s an Orikan species, a bit like a vampire. Perhaps an aswang. They’re just called “fangsuckers” in their kingdom. Apparently he had flown over the fence in an impulsive blood thirst, upon smelling the border patrol’s veins. He had been quickly chased back into the kingdom, but his wing got snagged on the fence for maybe three seconds.

It took a good few weeks of crashing on Dream’s couch until the burns healed. Having almost melted through the thin skin of his inner wing. Dream made an example out of the man, telling Tommy that’s why he shouldn’t go near the fence until after the army training.

But Tommy doesn’t listen!

Slow and steady. He reaches for the branch beyond the border. Easy does it.

Three.. Two.. One..

…Okay he got scared and forgot to jump. Try again.

Three.. two..

You know, he should just head home. He’ll be fine without the mask for a few days, right? Ugh, but sleeping on the bathroom floor when he already feels sick, will suck.

Okay, okay. He’s the biggest man there is. This is nothing. Do it for the ladies.

Three.. Two.. One!

..Huh. That was unceremonious. There was really only an eight-inch gap between the branch he was on and the branch he was going for. Well then.

Tommy releases his held breath and sits there panting for a while. He’s sitting above Akirian soil. He’s in a different kingdom. The mimicker’s deer-like ears flick as he crawls to the trunk of this new tree. He can already feel the difference. The bark is a lot healthier and stronger without the Dark infecting it.

Tommy feels all too grounded as he works his way down the tree. His adrenaline is making everything feel more real. Sensations are more noticeable and prominent. He smells the ferns a few yards below him. He feels the bark scratching his hands and snagging on the threads of his shoeless sock. He hears the rustling in the leaves. He swears that he’s seeing everything in 5k.

Then before he knows it, he feels those ferns swaying against the fabric of his cargo pants, and he feels his feet hit the dirt. His eyes glide around, taking a moment to appreciate how lush the forest floor is. He can barely see the ground beyond all the moss and ferns in this section.

That might be a problem, actually.

He walks his way to where he thinks the tormentors threw his stuff, realizing he should’ve watched them to see where it all landed. He paws at the ground coverage to try and search better. Where the hell is it?

The mimicker walks for several minutes, uselessly scanning around. Frustration and stress toying with his mind, until he’s muttering half-baked insults under his breath. Maybe it’s aimed at those kids that chased him, but it could very well be aimed at himsel— he trips and stumbles to the ground with a yelp.

Sitting up, Tommy shoots a glare at the object that he fell over, expecting a tree root, but instead finds his missing shoe. Finally. His deer ears droop and his stubby tail twitches as he collects it. Locating a good stump to sit on while he tugs it back over his heel. Maybe this wasn’t the worst idea. This is working.

--------------------------<3----------------------

This is not working. He doesn’t find his mask. It’s been thirty minutes.

It’s around this point that he gives up, deciding to just return home and take the fall. It’s also around this point that he realizes he lost track of where he is.

All the ferns and trees look the same. He isn’t sure where he climbed in from. He doesn’t recognize any landmarks around him. The worst part? He drifted away from the fence.

He doesn’t know how much he drifted away while he had been rhythmically searching for the pathetic piece of fabric and string, but now he isn’t sure where he came from. He looks up at the sun, peeking between the canopy of trees above him, as if he knows his north and his west. Left and right was always enough for him in the past.

Today sucks.

So now Tommy is completely and utterly lost, from how many times he rotated, scanning the ground in a 360. Damn it.

He is completely and utterly lost and he is freaking out. Would Dream even come looking for him? Not until after sunset, he knows that much. Would he even risk crossing the border to look for Tommy?

The boy doesn’t know. Which is why he picks the direction he thinks he came from and he walks.

It has to be nearing 13:15 by the time he hears a splash and suddenly his shoes are soggy. He glares at the tiny stream he stepped into. He didn’t pass water on the way here, which means he’s going the wrong way.

“Fuck.” Tommy rubs his hands down his face. “Fuck!”

His heartbeat quickens as he sits at the base of a tree, legs curled to his chest, hands clutching his little antler buds. He doesn’t know where he is! Does he have to turn back? Turn left?? The boy doesn’t feel the exact moment he starts crying; he just suddenly realizes he is.

He knows he shouldn’t be breathing so roughly. He’s lucky he made it this long without his mask. He shouldn’t be teasing his illness like this, but he can’t help it.

He is lost in an unfamiliar kingdom. A kingdom that his country is in a war against. A kingdom where if anyone recognizes that he’s a mimicker and not a fae, they’ll kill him.

He whines pathetically, ruffling his hair over his antlers buds that never grew. Two tattletales growing out of his head. He wonders how an Akirian soldier would kill him. Would they make it quick and merciful, being a kingdom of “goodness” and all that? Would they let him off with a warning because he’s so young?

He wouldn’t be a very good hostage. Orikah would be quick to dismiss one of their own in a war.

Rustle.  

His ears suddenly perk up and the world just stops.

He hears it again. Rustling in the woodland coverage. Consistently, like footsteps. Two pairs, it sounds like. Four steps in a beat. His ears point downward, low and timid, as he covers his mouth to muffle any sounds he could make. Border patrol? They shouldn’t be here yet. They only come by at 14:00.

He unironically feels like a deer in headlights. Freezing like a rabbit under the eyes of a hawk. He’s dead. He’s going to die. This is where it ends. He doesn’t have a hood to hide his lack of antlers. Maybe they’ll pass him? He curls further against the tree, as if he could become one with Mother Earth. He doesn't want to die like this. Die at the hands of a knight, labeling him as a trespasser, all because he wanted his damn shoe and mask.

Splash. Splash.

He didn’t realize he had shut his eyes but now he shoots them open as he hears the steps hit the stream six feet away from him. 

Then he meets a huge pair of eyes, staring at him blankly.

The horse huffs and Tommy recoils, yelping in a pitch that he would deny to his coming-soon grave. The horse just stares at him, unmoving. After a tense second, Tommy glances up to the rider that will likely be his executor.

A young man. Maybe twenty years old. With crimson eyes and pink hair draped over his shoulders. He’s wearing black trousers and a poet’s blouse, with a humbly simple silver chain around his neck, and emeralds hanging from his ears.

He stares down at the boy, almost as blankly as his mount. Tommy breathes a bit like a jack rabbit as the two of them have a staring contest for a solid five seconds.

“…It’s a horse named Carl. It’s not that intimidating.” The pinkette finally deadpans.

Thank the gods, he thinks Tommy is a fae.

The “fae” swallows roughly, somewhat worried that horse might bite him. “I- uhm..”

“I haven’t seen you before. Where are you from, kid?” The pink-haired man interrupts.

Good question. He sure as hell can’t tell the truth, so he thinks fast.“I’m from uh..” He vaguely gestures in a random direction, hoping to trick the man into filling the blank for him.

The rider looks at where Tommy waved toward. “Logstedshire?” he guesses.
 

“Yeah.” Totally.

The rider hums. “Nice village. Are you making your way to the markets or something?” He points behind him, presumably to the town he came from. Tommy just nods, hoping to be left alone.

“Cool.” The pinkette pauses. “Call me Techno, by the way. Short for.. You know.”

Techno.. Techno.. Where has he heard that before? The guy said it as if he expected Tommy to already know it.

“I’m Tommy.” He offers in return. He looks at the horse (Carl?) again. Carl has a satchel thrown over him. Shades of red, with a golden crown pattern. Each crown having a dot of green to look like an emerald. Tommy has seen that before too. Red background, yellow crown, emerald.. Yeah, that’s the Akirian flag. Dream showed it to him briefly during a homeschool lesson. If you can even call it that. More like unschooling.

Wouldn’t that flag only be seen on a royal stead? Oh. He remembers now.

Sapnap clenched his fists and swore, while Dream bandaged his burnt wing. “I hate all those pretentious little bastards in that Kingdom!”, he yelled. Fifteen year old Tommy stood tentatively in the doorway, watching. “They think they’re so much better! But I’ll tell you what, Dream! One day all their villages will burn, and they will all stand audience as their royals fall! The queen AND her son. What kind of name is Technoblade, anyway?”

Oh.

This is the queen’s son.

“Oh! Wait. Oh gods.” Tommy sputters, bowing his head. He was taught to have no respect for the Akirian royal family, but then again, he’s trying to hold up the fae act. “I’m sorry. Sir- Highness- uh-“ How do you address royalty again?

The prince holds up a hand with raised eyebrows. “Hey, woah. Gods. Relax. We’re both people here.” He scoffs. “You’ve never been in L’manburg before, have you?”

La-man-who? Oh, right. The town where the palace is. He shakes his head. All he can focus on is his exposed antler buds, that give away that he's not a real fae. Please don’t notice. Please don’t notice.

Techno gets his pink hair out of his face. “Well. We don’t do.. That here. I’m a person. You’re a person. Just chill out.”

“Okay.” He answers timidly.

Tommy flinches when Carl pivots in response to a tug on the reigns. Techno keeps his eyes on the blonde as they turn. 

“You can get on if you want." Techno offers. "I was just taking Carl for a stroll, but I'm heading back now. He can hold the extra weight.” 

“No- no thank you.”

“Don’t like horses?”

Let’s go with that. He shakes his head.

The prince just shrugs. “Alright. Suit yourself. You can follow on foot.”

The mimicker blinks. “What?”

“Didn’t you say you were going to the markets?”

Right.. “Oh, yeah. Uhm.. Okay.”

He slowly stands up. Reluctantly following when the horse enters a slow trot. What else is he meant to do? He just has to act like a normal civilian until he can find an excuse to leave. His heart is pounding at what he imagines is the speed this horse can gallop. Though he’s not dead from a heart attack, so maybe it just feels that way.

He vaguely considers running off now, but the innocent have nothing to fear. If he runs, Techno will realize he isn’t an Akirian. He bets Carl would catch him in seconds. So he just has to follow, he thinks as his ears remain timidly pinned down.

He can pretend to be a real fae for an hour. Just don’t say or do anything that would give away the Dark in his veins. He never fit in with Orikans that well because he could never keep up with the violence. So maybe this won’t be as difficult as it sounds.

Chapter Text

Tommy’s heart thumps in his throat, as he walks alongside the prince and his stead.

To an outsider, the scene almost looks peaceful. Just two lads and a horse. Trekking through the forest. Tommy realizes this path is far more beaten down, so he assumes that civilians walk through here a lot. The sun kisses his blonde curls, occasionally from the gaps in the leaves above, and the dirt crunches softly beneath hooves and shoes.

Perhaps to Technoblade—his highness—that’s exactly how this feels. Just a slow walk, with the birds singing. But to Tommy, the atmosphere is thick and tense. The prince looks at him every now and then, like he knows something is off but can’t put his finger on it. A certain curiosity in his glances.

Tommy tries not to anxiously fidget with his curls, not wanting to draw attention to that area.

Hey, I see you. Did you skip the starting notes? Please read them. It’s important.

“Soooo…” You’d think that a man of royal blood would have a more graceful tongue, but he honestly comes across as social awkward. “How come you’re off to the markets by yourself?”

Tommy swallows and just flows with whatever excuse makes sense. “My.. father sent me. He needed something for work but couldn’t step away from his shift.”

Techno hums. “What exactly are you looking to buy?”

What do Akirians sell at markets??  Be vague. “Ingredients.”

“Oh, is he a baker or something like that?”

Uh… “Medicine. Actually.” He decides on, because the thought of Dream baking almost makes him laugh.

 “Cool.. cool..”

They descend back into silence.

They cross another shallow stream, that’s thin enough for Carl to step right over, but Tommy’s shoes once again get soggy. But the mimicker barely acknowledges it.

“You sure you don’t want to get on?” Techno offers again. Tommy shakes his head, making the pinkette sigh. “Alright, I suppose we aren’t much further.”

He was right. In the next couple of minutes, the forest walls break and Tommy sees it. L’manburg.

It’s a surprisingly humble town, considering that it’s home to the palace. The houses are made of cobblestone and wood. Simple lanterns trace the granite roads that weave between the cozy shops and boutiques. Flowers are potted on windowsills and vines are crawling up chimneys. Horses drag wagons and carts along, in a much more orderly fashion than Orikah’s transportation.

Orikah has tried taming the kelpies, since it’s the only species of horse that has managed to evolve around the Dark, but they don’t behave. Only wanting to flee and return to their swampy domain. They tend to bite and buck, refusing against any tug on the reigns. Tommy still has the faint bite scar on his shoulder from when he was nine years old and a little too curious. That might be the stem of his caution around Carl.

Tommy’s left ear twitches as he takes in the village. It’s such a stark contrast to the filth of his hometown. At the corner of his eye, he sees Techno glance at him with his stead halted, so he tries to keep the stars out of his eyes. He can’t stare too much.

“You said you haven’t been here before, right?” His majesty asks. Tommy hums in agreement as Carl begins trotting again.  “Alright, well. I’ll show you where the markets are. Come on.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Tommy asks, a little more rudely than intended. He’s stressed, okay? He needs to leave. He at least takes a moment to backtrack. “You know. Royal.. stuff?”

Techno shakes his head. “Only the queen has real duties. Or if we had a king, he would too. I’m more of just a symbol and representation.” As far as the blonde knows, the queen is unmarried. Akira has no king. “If there was an event or a trading agreement being made, I’d be present, but I’m more of a ceremonial royal, until my mother steps down.”

They walk along the granite roads and Tommy keeps to the sidelines, away from the wagons and carts. He isn’t sure if being in a populated area is better or worse, as a mimicker blending in.

“I assume this isn’t the kind of town that you’re used to.” Techno muses, making Tommy flinch and snap his head in his direction. Fuck fuck fuck. He knows. He knows Tommy is from—“I mean, we’re probably a lot more laid back around here. I know Logstedshire is more blue-collared, with all the coal mines and wheat farms.”

False alarm.

Tommy knows batshit nothing about this alleged log-stead-sheer or whatever he agreed to earlier, so he absorbs any information the pinkette spills. “Yeah, definitely. A lot more….  Cozy here.”

“Can I just ask..” the prince starts. “Why were you on the ground when I found you?”

Because he was having an anxiety attack. He already must look like a nervous wreck to this guy. Tommy can practically hear Dream telling him to not show weakness to anyone from Akira. “Just taking a break, big man. A man’s gotta rest during his endeavors.” He responds, confidently.

The horse rider narrows his eyes and smiles, almost challenging. “You sure? I don’t know. You looked a bit flustered and worked up. Were you lost?”

Yes. “Absolutely not. I’m never lost. I have a built in navigator in my—” He trails off from whatever sarcastic remark he was about make. He had gotten too casual and gestured to his antlers. Or lack-of.

Of course, this draws attention to them. Technoblade directly looks at them for a second, then back at Tommy’s eyes. Smile faded. If Tommy dies here, he honestly takes full responsibility. He just blew his own cover out of cockiness.

His heart stutters and Technoblade.. says nothing. His eyes return to the road ahead.

Is he uneducated? Does he not know the signs of a mimicker? Or is this a false sense of security? Tommy has to go. Now.

“Oh, uh..” The mimicker speaks up, making it up as he goes.  He theatrically pats his pockets. “I just realized. I left my father’s wallet at home. Well, damn. Thanks anyway, but I guess I’ll return on another day.”

He takes a few steps backwards during his rambling, pointing in the direction they came from. Techno stops his horse and looks over, and Tommy is honestly tempted to just dash.

“Oh.” The prince says. “It’s.. a bit far back to Logstedshire. Forty minutes or so on foot. That would just be a waste.”

“Yeahhhh, well. What can you do about it?” Tommy says, waving him off. “Thanks for the escort, but-“

“Doesn’t your dad need it for the medicine?” Right. The alleged apothecary. “I mean, I can pay if you need. That would suck to walk all the way back.”

That’s.. wow. Okay. Tommy doesn’t actually need anything, but if he did, that’s really nice. An Orikan would never. He’d be mocked and maybe get a few pebbles thrown at him, paired with some stupid nickname like “forgetful fae” or something lazy like that.

Akirians don’t have the Dark in their blood. Akirians are kind.

“Oh, no. Thank you but I could never.” Tommy rambles.

“Tommy.” The blonde pauses instinctively at his name. “It’s ingredients for medicine. That’s pocket change for me.” Yeah, Tommy bets that’s real nice. Not having to count money. Rich prick.

Techno dismounts his horse. “Listen. My mother always tells me that I have to be more social and kind to strangers and newcomers, because my family is supposed to be a friend of the people. And she says I come across as.. not exactly rude, but like I don’t want to be talking to people. You’d be doing me a solid if you just let me do this, so I don’t get lectured by her finding out I just let you leave emptyhanded.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

Or seems honest. He’s seen the antler buds. This could be a trap.

But the prince is human. Not a fae. Would he even know the age that antlers sprout? They’re supposed to start growing out of bud-form at age twelve, then finish at around eighteen. Does he know that?

“…How much longer is it to get there?” He asks, trying to get a feel for how long it will be until he can leave.

Techno points. “You see that library? The market is right around the corner from that.”

“…..”

They end up tying Carl’s reigns to a pole nearby. Since apparently L’manburg has poles for that exact purpose.

The market is busier than the previous street. Stands and stalls scattered around, with wooden signs that present their purpose. People making transactions and friendly conversation.

There’s the sound of an ocarina, that Tommy identifies to be played by a beautiful red-headed young lady, sitting criss-cross on some crates. Performing presumably for her own enjoyment.

Instinctively, Tommy becomes tense at the crowd. He wouldn’t say he has social anxiety, but he’s so used to his own kingdom.

Typically, if there’s this many people in one place, in Orikah, it’s either at a presidential rally or it’s rioters. Tommy needs a moment to adjust to the concept that so many people can be in one place without anyone starting a fight.

“Herbs, right?” Techno confirms on Tommy’s left, speaking up slightly to be heard.

“Uh.. Yeah.” Tommy responds with matched volume. It’s a little bit overwhelming. There’s just a lot of stimulation everywhere.

He follows the prince closer than he’ll admit. As if the pinkette isn’t just as much of a threat and concern as everything else. Tommy’s shoulders are up by his deer-like ears as they walk. This is a lot. It’s whimsical, don’t get him wrong. But it’s a big transition from what he’s used to.

He barely realizes when they get to the alleged herb stall. He just suddenly realizes Techno is greeting the owner of it.

Trying to focus on one sensation at a time, Tommy glances over the market stand. A humble shop. The hanging sign above it, is written in cursive, that Dream never taught the boy to read, so really the words mean nothing to him. There’s wooden containers all across the counters. Mostly herbs, but some crystals as well.

It's all useless to Tommy, but he has to pretend otherwise. So, when Techno looks at him, he just points at a random container.

The prince reads the label on it, then delivers the message to the man running the stall. Apparently that cursive label said "peppermint".

He can’t really focus on the exchange. He’s distracted by the nearby ocarina. Then he’s distracted by two children dancing. Then he’s distracted by a wagon being unloaded. Then he vaguely tunes back in to see Techno handing over some silver coins to the man. Then he’s distracted by the creaking of the hanging sign above. Then he’s distracted by two people laughing in conversation. This is a lot. This is way too much at once.

He flinches at the hand on his shoulder but doesn’t ask questions or really fight it when Technoblade guides him off to the side of everything. He’s too busy organizing his five senses to really think.

Distantly, vaguely, he hears a bell chime, as he’s nudged inside a building. The bell chimes again and—oh. It isn’t loud anymore.

“Sorry. You weren’t answering.” Techno says. His voice a lot clearer. Tommy looks at him. “I was asking if you needed to go anywhere else, but you looked all.. frazzled. It’s quieter in here.”

Slowly, the younger boy becomes coherent again. “Oh.”

He looks around and finds that they’re in a cozy bakery. Gentle lights and oak floors, with the smell of bread and pastries. Little antique tables and chairs, sitting unoccupied, and simple photographs of fireplaces and bread hung on the walls. Behind the counter is a door, that likely goes to the kitchen, but also a ladder, that heads upstairs. Tommy isn’t sure why a bakery would have an upstairs.

His body becomes less tense without the overstimulation.

Suddenly the back door opens and someone enters the main room, talking in an instinct customer service voice. “Hi, you must’ve missed the sign. We’re actually closed because—oh, Techno.”

The man is blonde, like Tommy, with icy blue eyes. A little bit shorter than the mimicker. But the most noticeable thing about him is his wings.

Nothing like Sapnap’s bat wings. No. This man’s wings are made of silky feathers, jet black like a crow. Tommy has heard of avians but he’s never seen one before. He tries not to stare but the wings are genuinely majestic.

“Hey, Phil.” Techno says, like he knows the guy. “Why’s the bakery closed? It’s a Saturday. That’s a good day for business.”

 The avian—Phil--scoffs. “Niki spilled cooking oil in the brick oven and the flames just went—” he makes a “woosh” sound and a hand gesture to emphasize this. “We had to close for the last half hour to clean all the ash. Nobody wants cinder in a loaf of bread.”

Techno chuckles and finally Phil acknowledges the “fae” beside the prince. “Ah, hello. I apologize. I’m Phil.”

The younger blonde fidgets with his sleeves, anxious under the attention. “I'm Tommy.”

“It’s his first time in L’manburg.” Techno provides, casually. “I just thought I’d bring him in here for a minute. The market is just kind of noisy so..”

Tommy’s face flushes at the implication. He wonders how he must’ve looked during his overwhelmed episode. He bets his ears were all low and timid again.

“Ah, I see.” Phil smiles. “Welcome. Welcome to L’manburg. If Techno likes you, then so do I. He’s like family to us.”

Isn’t that odd? Technoblade is royal. This guy is just a baker. Odd how they’d get along. Even with the difference in class. Tommy wonders how they even met, if this “Phil” guy is just a civilian.

“You know, actually..” Phil starts again. “My friend Niki made cupcakes this morning before the incident and we’re trying to decide whether or not they should be put on the menu. Do you want to try one?”

Tommy is about to instinctively decline, when Technoblade speaks. “Unless you’re allergic, I suggest you say yes. Anything Niki comes up with is better than the palace pastries.”

“…Okay?” Tommy says, because he assumes he can’t say no to royalty.

Phil smiles and disappears to the back, leaving the blonde and pinkette in awkward silence.

“I should get going after this.” Tommy says, trying to set up his exit in advance. The prince simply nods.

A minute later, a girl comes out in Phil’s place. Just slightly younger than Techno. She’s also blonde, but with hazel eyes and a warm smile. “Hi.” She greets, quiet and sweet. “Nice to meet you.”

The mimicker notices something about her. Her ears. Pointy.

She’s an elf.

That isn’t a big deal. Elves are extremely common around here. But he’s never met one before. “Ayup.”

Techno nods him in the direction of the counter, so he shyly goes over to it.

“I’ve been meaning to get a non-biased opinion on these.” She says, gently. Only holding one plate.

Techno steps into the corner of Tommy’s vision, with his arms crossed. “Didn’t you bring me one?” He asks jokingly.

The elf girl narrows her eyes playfully.  “Guests only. You can get your own. You know your way around the kitchen.” She jabs back, as if this isn’t a man of royal blood. If a lower class civilian spoke this way to someone in power in Orikah, they’d probably just be killed. But they seem to be friends.


She turns her attention back to Tommy and hands him the plate, as Techno rolls his eyes. “Here you go.”

It’s a small pastry. Vanilla sponge with a thin layer of frosting. The sponge is dotted with colorful spots, in random places, like there was sprinkles cooked into the batter itself. Orikans typically don’t bake. Or if they do, it’s burnt, low quality, and/or poisoned with a target in mind. Given enough time, Tommy can count how many times he’s had a baked dessert in his entire life. “Thank you.” He mutters, sheepishly.

Niki responds with.. Something. A single word. Tommy must’ve heard her wrong because as far as he knows, that word isn’t in the dictionary.

He blinks. “Pardon?”

“Hm?” Niki goes to repeat herself. “I just said ‘chalakin’”

“….Pardon?”

After a moment on silence, the elf girl identifies the problem. “Oh! Sorry! I just meant, you’re welcome. I shouldn’t assume that all people know Akirish.”

Akirish. The native language around here. No one in Orikah speaks it, so Tommy never learned.

“I was raised bilingual.” Niki elaborates. “That was just a simple phrase, though. Did you skip that class in school?”

“Oh, uh.. I’m..” not from here. “Homeschooled. So.. yeah.” He takes a careful bite of the cupcake just to act natural.

Oh.

Oh wow.

It’s sweet, but not throat-burningly so. The sponge is fluffy, not too crumbly, and the frosting is just the right amount to add flavor without being overbearing. Altogether, it tastes like it was made by someone with a passion for it. Something in his eyes must show his enjoyment of the dessert, because Niki smiles.

When she speaks, it’s in gibberish with an accent again, so now he knows it’s Akirish. She’s obviously messing with him and how he doesn’t understand. “Hut’s tuh soot-loufa?” Whatever she asked him, she asked it as a tease, clearly.

“……Yes.” He guesses, dumbly. She giggles.

“Not even the basics of Akirish. Alright.” She comments, leaning against the counter.

“Leave the poor kid alone.” Techno jokes. “No one really needs to learn it anymore.”

“Well, you speak it just fine.”

Tommy awkwardly tunes out the prince’s response, which was now also in the other language. This conversation no longer includes him. “Craus ni muth enseated.” Techno says, sarcastically, then switches back to English. “I didn’t want to learn it.”

Thud. Thud.

Tommy flinches and looks at the ceiling. Is someone moving around upstairs?

Niki shakes her head, exasperated and moves to the ladder, calling up. “Wil!” Who? “We’re opening the doors again soon! Come down and help!”

“I can’t! I’m going outside!” A male voice returns.

A moment later, long legs begin descending down the ladder at a swift pace, like they’ve done it a thousands times before. The man, who must be “Wil”, is clutching a guitar in one hand, whilst using the other for balance. Tommy isn’t planning on paying much attention to him, until his head comes down, revealing his brunette curls and dark chocolate eyes.

Tommy’s heart just drops.

He’s.. like Tommy. Not a mimicker, of course. But he’s a fae. The Akirian species that Tommy’s body imitates. He has the deer-like ears. The stubby tail.

The antlers.

But his are grown out. They’re full length. Like two little sticks attached to his head. The world that Tommy missed out on. 

“Sally is playing her ocarina outside.” The real fae says, holding up his guitar. “I need to go out there and play with her. I’m trying to make a good impression on her so we can talk.”

Niki crosses her arms. “It’s going to be busy today, Wil.”

“I know! But please!” He begs.

“…I’ll cover for you for forty minutes.”

“Thanks, Niki!” The man says. He mutters a half-hearted “hi” to Tommy, politely, but jogs right passed him. He has not the slightest idea of what he means to the blonde boy.

As he walks passed Techno, the pinkette pats him on the shoulder, like they're friends. “Go get her, tiger.” He says, jokingly. As soon as the man is gone, the prince speaks to Tommy. “That’s Wilbur. Phil’s son. They live above the bakery. He's been my best friend since we were kids. That’s why I know his dad.”

“Uh huh..” Tommy says breathlessly, still amazed by seeing someone who looks like him. He’s adopted. He doesn’t know who his family is. He’s never seen another person with his ears and tail, let alone the antlers.

Suddenly, he realizes how long he’s been here. Dream thinks he’s still practicing archery at the park. He should’ve been home by now. And what is he doing? Socializing with the enemy!

“Okay, I really must go. My dad is definitely looking for me.”

“Heh?” Techno looks at him. “Oh. Right. Here’s the peppermint.” He gets handed a little baggy, that he didn’t even notice Techno holding until now. “You know which way you came from, right?”

“Of course I do!” He doesn’t. “But, just a test. Geography pop quiz. Do uh.. Do you know where I came from?”

He receives a face palm and a point, being told “You were coming from that way. East.”  East! The border is on the East side of Akira! Tommy knew that much, but he hadn’t known which way “East” was until now. Thank the gods.

And so, finally, after a wave goodbye, Tommy got to leave on his own. Exiting L'manburg. He discarded the peppermint in the woods for Mother Earth to absorb, having no use for it, and he hiked through the forest quietly.

He finds the fence at last and manages to locate the tree he originally climbed over with. It’s around the time that he enters the Dark land again, that he becomes aware of how tired he was starting to get. His damn sickness. He never did find his mask, so he’s still going to sleep in the bathroom, probably.

So, was that adventure all for nothing?

..No. Not really. He got something out of it. He got a break from the brutality of his kingdom. Just for a little bit, just once, he got kindness.

Chapter Text

Sleeping on the bathroom floor sucks.

”Where the hell is your mask?”  Dream had demanded as the mimicker came through the front door, discarding his shoes.

 Tommy had made up some excuse about the strings snapping, so he had to put it in his pocket to be fixed later, but it must’ve fallen out. Then Dream started asking about the bow and quiver, which frankly, the young boy had forgotten about.

His adoptive father didn’t care to hear Tommy’s non-existent excuses, so he thankfully got away with nobody finding out where he went. Overall, after being thrown out to find and retrieve the archery gear, he got off Scott-free!

Even if sleeping on the bathroom floor sucks.

Over the next few days, time resumes like normal. Dream only gets paid next week, so Tommy has been trying not to leave the house much. Trying to ignore the headaches that his sick maskless body provides.

By day four, Tommy becomes antsy within the familiar walls of his bedroom. The peeling paint, the rickety desk, the creaking floorboards. He’s only briefly stepped outside to his scrawny back yard, having permission to shoot arrows at the fence, until his mask is replaced and he may return to the local park.

He’s never labeled himself as an extrovert, who feels the need to always be out and about, but you know.. watching the spider in the corner of his room is only stimulating for so long. Maybe that’s why, against his better judgment, he went on a walk while Dream was gone.

He has time. Dream goes to those “business meetings” once a month. Usually only returning late at night.

He wears a hoodie this time, pulling the hood up and half tucking his chin into the collar, as if it would block out the allergy-inducement in the air. His bud-like horns make little lumps in the fabric covering his head. He also brings his sketchbook with him this time, just in case inspiration sparks.

He ends up seeing that one boy on his walk. They aren’t friends, really. But they’ve spoken briefly before, living on the same street and all. He’s in his front yard, kicking stones when Tommy walks by.

The boy is about the same age as him. Just much shorter, with fluffy brown hair, and a constant smile on his face. He’s an Emotional. An Orikan species that’s bound to one emotion at birth. Tommy isn’t sure what happens if they break that rule, but this kid never has. Tommy has never seen him without a pep in his step and a sometimes manic grin.

His name is something with a T, he thinks.

Smiley Boy looks up from his activity, upon hearing the mimicker walk by. He has the decency to wave, so Tommy waves back. Smiley Boy is chill. He doesn’t chase the mimicker, which is nice.

“Hey, you don’t have your bow today!” Smiley Boy points out, with his grin in his voice. Okay, weirdo. Has he memorized the habits of everyone who walks by his house?

“Just walking today. Might draw something.” Tommy responds with his sketchbook held up in sight, receiving a thumbs up. That’s the extent of the conversation and the mimicker goes on his way.

Decent guy for an Orikan.

Tommy gets to the park, but carries on passed it, despite it being his usual turn-around point. Something almost possesses him and he finds himself walking the same path he was chased down four days prior.

He tells himself that he’s going into the woods again to look for a new muse to draw, but deep down he knows his steps are fueled by curiosity.  He ends up by the chain-link border fence again, just taking a moment to look.

He could very well have been the only Orikan on his street to go as far as he did. Everyone, outside of those hired by the government, only crosses the fence to bite at the border patrol. Always chased back over quickly.

Tommy touched the fence once. He doesn’t even remember it, having been so young. Four or five, Dream says. 

Although he doesn’t recall the incident, hearing the story about how loud he supposedly screamed has gotten the message across.

So, he doesn’t ever touch the fence.

Tommy seats himself against a diseased tree, sketchbook on his lap, as he pages through his works. Grotesque wildlife and dying plants. The “beauty” of his own kingdom.

He glances up from the paper for a second and blinks in surprise. There’s a rabbit on the other side of the fence. Just eight feet in front of him. It’s little nose twitches from the bush it’s under.

“…Hello.” Tommy greets, as if it’s an intelligent being.

The little guy hops forward once, abandoning his hideout.

Oh. Not just a rabbit. A jackalope.

Those rabbits with antlers. Tommy vaguely heard about them before but never saw one. “..Hey, little buddy.” He mutters.

It’s a young jackalope. His antlers haven’t sprouted beyond bud-form. They look just like Tommy’s.

The mimicker can’t help but smile at the similarity. To think that this rabbit with get its antlers while Tommy won’t, is disappointing but almost funny. Instinctively, the boy retrieves his pencil from where it was tucked between his latest drawings, and he finds a blank page.

The jackalope stays there for a while, munching on weeds, allowing the blonde to immortalize it in the cheap ink strokes. This is his first time drawing something outside of his kingdom.

It’s easier, he thinks. No jagged edges. No uncountable fangs. Just easy on the eyes.

He’s going to have to hide this drawing with his life.

He glances up at the jackalope just in time to see the way its ears twitched before it ran. Well. He already got enough of a base to finish the sketch without the reference.

Suddenly, his deer-like ears twitch as well and he identifies why the little guy scurried off. They weren’t alone.

Tommy hears the stalking footsteps in the trees on his side of the fence. Paired with the faint growling sound, rumbling closer to where he is.

He knows that growl well. It isn’t an animal. It’s an Orikan. He can’t guarantee that it’s Sapnap, but it’s definitely a fangsucker like him. They’re known for going animalistic at times, stalking and hunting before snapping out of it. The growl sound is ingrained in Tommy’s brain from when he was ten and an animalistic Sapnap mistook him for a regular fae and not a mimicker.

He remembers cowering beneath his desk while Dream shoved Sapnap out of Tommy’s room, yelling at him to stop it. “Not Tommy! Hunt a different one!”

He’s pretty sure the fangsucker mauled one of the neighbors after that.

All in all? He doesn’t want to be here if a fangsucker is hunting. Which is why, without a thought besides adrenaline, he cusses and climbs a tree. Bark cuts at his palms and snags on his jeans as he swiftly scales the diseased thing.

Fangsuckers have wings. This place isn’t inaccessible. It just might be high enough so his scent isn’t caught.

The blonde feels a bit like that jackalope with how his breath quietly quickens, scanning the ground for the alleged “predator”. If Sapnap is any reference, with how his senses increase in hunting mode, Tommy will most likely be found. On this side of the forest, at least.

Oh. He can--

His vision swims and swirls for a moment, from his stupid illness. The moment his coughing reflex gets triggered, he abandons ship. Judging by the snarls below him, those two coughs were heard. Using a branch from his tree, he does the same thing he did four days ago. He jumps the border.

It’s much quicker this time, without the hesitation of “what the hell am I doing”. He knows what he’s doing! He’s not dying!

He monkeys his way down the Akirian tree he’s latched onto. Dropping his sketchbook in the process, but that’s okay. He’s able to snatch it off the dirt as soon as he gets down. Pausing for a second to dust it off before scramming. Fangsuckers also aren’t afraid to jump the border.

He keeps track of where he’s going this time. Keeping a straight line through the trees, so he can find his way back to the fence when it feels safe. He doesn't think he gets chased, but he keeps going just in case.

After a while, the boy leans against a tree trunk, tugging the collar of his hoodie down to catch his breath. Deer-like ears pinned down. Stubby tail twitching with adrenaline.

“Gods.” He murmurs to himself. “I’ve committed illegal border crossing twice this week. Maybe I’m--“ He inhales and pants. “I fit in better than I thought.”

His dreams of achieving the same level of lawless insanity as his peers are coming to life. Fun.

It isn’t as scary this time, being in Akira. The lush grounds are just a little more familiar. Half an hour of hiding here won’t hurt him.

Water would be nice for the headache, though.

Sketchbook hugged to his chest, the mimicker chooses to wander just a little further. There might be a source of water nearby. With how lush the forest floor is, he knows rivers and lakes would be abundant, seeping into the roots of everything.

His chronic illness comes in waves, usually. It currently feels to be drawing back a bit, but hydration would still help.

--------------------------<3----------------------

He hears the guitar strings just before he hears the water. Muttered cusswords between the notes played. Tommy’s ears twitch. Logically, he shouldn’t go towards the sounds, but the voice is.. familiar. His inability to pin-point the familiarity, causes him to stalk just a little bit closer.

Through the trees, he finds it. The water source, first of all. A small pond with a little stream running into it. But more importantly, the voice with the guitar.

Oh. Yeah. His stomach swoops the same way it did four days ago. It's the fae that lived above the bakery. The brunette is sitting on a stump, with his instrument, hyperfocused on the task at hand.

What was his name again? Wil? William?

Tommy hides halfway behind an oak trunk, peeking at the pond and the clearing. It’s a childlike curiosity that he feels. Having never met his biological family, it’s weird seeing someone who looks like him. Even if they’re two different species.

This fae would be naturally kind. It would be in his biology to be simple and welcoming to others, as though blessed by Lady Hestia. “Pretentious beings who think they’re perfect” as Dream would say. “They boast about how they love everyone but then they banish all of us and take our kingdom off the map.”

Tommy isn’t a fae. He’s just a mimicker. Naturally a quick liar. Deceptive. Willing to create harm and chaos, while sleeping just fine. They aren’t the same. But they look the same.

He shrinks back when chocolate brown eyes glance in his direction.

The brunette blinks and raises an eyebrow at his little stalker. “Hello?”  Welp. This went well.

“Uh- hi.” Tommy responds, tugging his hood over his antler buds as if that helps.

“..Can I help you?”

“No.” The mimicker stops hiding, so he doesn’t look as suspicious. “Just.. out for a walk.”

The brunette gives him a bemused look. “Right, well, do you want to go ‘out for a walk’ out here? What are you hiding for?” His tone is more joking than aggressive.

Slowly, Tommy steps forward. Sketchbook clutched tightly and eyes still locked on the fae. He should be trying to leave, but his need for water overrides basic instinct. “You can.. continue with the guitar. I’m just going to get water here. Then I’ll go.”

“Alright.” The fae shrugs, shifting comfortably on the stump and fiddling with the tuning pegs of his instrument. “You got a container to drink out of?”

“..No.” Tommy responds. He was just going to cup his hands, honestly.

“Oh, hang on.” The fae looks behind his stump and Tommy notices the messenger bag he had laying there. He digs through it. “I think I have one.”

“I—”

“Found it.” He pulls out a stainless-steel thermos and shakes it to hear the sloshing sound inside. The fae removes the lid and uses the corner of his sleeve to wipe at the rim. “I think I only took one or two sips from this since it was last washed. Is that fine?”

This is why they’re so different. Tommy would gatekeep his drinking water, as that’s simply how things are in his kingdom. But a real fae shares. “..That’s fine.”

Hesitantly he steps forward, like an animal being coaxed. Trying to not look at the man's fully grown antlers too much as he slowly takes the container. Sketchbook tucked under his arm.

“I think I saw you at my family bakery the other day.” The brunette muses, tapping on his guitar while the blonde takes a careful sip of the cool water. “I’m Wilbur.”

Ah, that rings a bell.

“Tommy.” He reciprocates.

“Right.” Wilbur nods. “Techno mentioned the ‘Tommy’ he spoke to that day. He said you’re from Logsteadshire?”

He nods in a lie.

Wilbur glances at Tommy's hood for a second. “How old are you?”

Tommy’s heart sinks, hyperaware of the two lumps in his hood. Regular faes have long enough antlers that they buy hoodies with holes cut in the top. Tommy unfortunately doesn’t waste money on that. “..Sixteen.” He says, knowing he can’t get away with saying he’s any younger. He’s ready to dash.

As suspected, Wilbur glances at the shape of the bud-horns then looks back at Tommy’s eyes. “Forgive me. I just noticed you’re a bit of a.. late bloomer.” He gestures to his own grown antlers.

Tommy takes several steps back, not even trying to be subtle. He’s about to run when the fae swiftly speaks.

“Hey, hey, relax. Sorry. That’s none of my business. My bad.” He gestures Tommy to come back. “Don’t go running off with my thermos.” He adds jokingly.

Is this guy an idiot? Tommy is something that needs to be killed. He isn’t a real fae.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to mock you or anything. I was just curious. Come back.”

Tommy.. doesn’t think this guy has a weapon on him?

Maybe there’s a reason why the mimicker team of the army is so useful. Maybe the average Akirian genuinely doesn’t know it’s a possibility. This war will be the first time the team is ever sent out. Never in history have mimickers played a tremendous part.

Akirians genuinely don’t know to be wary.

He slowly steps forward again, still on edge. Wilbur doesn’t give off good liar vibes.

The fae points at the sketchbook under the mimicker’s arm, to change the subject politely. “You an artist or something?”

The blonde hesitates for a moment.  “Kind of? I guess. It’s fun.”

“That’s cool. I’m creative too. But I’m more of a musician.”

Then Wilbur just.. talks. Like he doesn’t need to be prompted to share things about himself. He says he’s trying to impress some girl named Sally, by learning to play her favorite song on the guitar.

“I told her I already knew it so she said tomorrow she wanted to get together and duet it in the markets. Which is great but bad, because I have less than twenty-four hours to learn the chords.”

“Sounds rough, big man.” Tommy comments, forcing himself a little out of his shell, since this guy is opening up to him. He hasn't even looked at Tommy's antlers, since he last mentioned them.

“Yeah.” Wilbur murmurs. “It’s called Harpy Hare. Do you know it?”

“Nope.”

“Damn. I was hoping someone could tell me if it sounds right.”

Tommy awkwardly holds the thermos out, for Wilbur to take back, not knowing how else to respond. The man takes it and screws the lid back on, putting it back in his bag.

“Right, well, stay if you want. Go if you want. I’m going to keep practicing.” Wilbur says, taking his eyes off the boy, to focus on the strings as he began to pluck them.

Tommy should go. He takes a step or two in the direction he came from, intending to leave. But he lingers, out of curiosity. Unsure if it’s curiosity for the song or if he just wants to spend more time with someone who looks like him.

The starting chords are gentle, paired with quiet humming from the man.

Tommy looks elsewhere, gazing at the pond in front of them, not wanting to stare. After a few seconds, Wilbur reaches the lyrical part of the song, seeming unbothered by any presence that’s listening.

“Harpy Hare, where have you buried all your children? Tell me, so I say.”

Tommy’s ears twitch. Orikans rarely care for creating music. Unless you count the rhymes about demons and bones that the children at the playground make games out of. So Tommy is interested by the sound of an actual song.

“Harpy Hare, where have you buried all your children? Tell me, so I say.”

Wilbur has a pretty good singing voice actually. He seems to love what he’s doing.

“All the arrows that you’ve stolen. Split in half, now bum and broken. Like your heart that was so eager to be hid.”

Wilbur takes a breath. “You can’t keep them all caged. They will fight and run away. Mother, tell me, so I say—shit.”

Tommy snaps out of his daze and look at the man, who stopped singing. “..That sounded good—” He offers only to be interrupted.

“I keep hitting the wrong chord.” Wilbur rubs his forehead.

Tommy glances around awkwardly. “What time is the duet tomorrow?”

“Two-thirty.”

“That’s enough time.” He isn’t sure how fast of a learner he is, but hey, he’s just being nice. “Probably.”

Wilbur sighs. “Yeah, come by the markets tomorrow. You’ll get to see me embarrass myself.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m sure you can figure it out and pull bitches with it.”

The fae shoots him a look. “Damn. Why’d you have to say it like that? That’s just mean to Sally.”

Oh, is that not a thing in Akira? Was that disrespectful?

Upon seeing Tommy’s expression change, Wilbur laughs a bit so maybe it’s fine. “You got a weird personality. But it’s interesting. I hope I see you more often.”

..Huh. Someone likes talking to him. That’s.. Nice.

He ends up leaving not long after that, letting the guitar strums fade behind him. Wilbur hopes to see him again. That’s such an odd concept. Maybe.. maybe he will come back. He’ll think about it.

As he climbs a tree to get back over the border, fifteen minutes later, he catches himself murmuring lyrics under his breath.

“All the arrows that you’ve stolen. Split in half, now bum and broken. Like your heart that was so eager to be hid.”

--------------------------<3----------------------

“Dream?”

The tall man flinches, adjusting the blindfold that hides his supposedly grotesque eyes. “What is it, Tommy? I just walked in the door. I’m tired.”

Tommy knows he shouldn’t bother Dream he’d been out until almost midnight, but…

“About the uhm.. the fact that I’ll probably be drafted when I’m seventeen.”

“What about it?” His adoptive father prompts, removing his coat.

“How likely is it that the Akirians will.. recognize.. that I’m not one of them?”

Dream pauses for a second, then resumes hanging the coat on the wall. “They’ll know as soon as their stabbed. Why?”

“No-“ The blonde sighs. “I know that. I mean appearance wise. My horns. How many of them know about the tells and signs?”

“…Very few.” Dream continues into the house, to go refuel on a snack in the kitchen. “It’s why you’re so valuable. Mimickers are rare enough that a lot of average Akirians don’t know they exist.”

“..Oh.”

“What brought this up?”

“..Nothing. Just a thought I had.” The mimicker says, slowly heading towards the stairs.

The Dreamspitter shakes his head and probably rolls his eyes. “Go to bed, Tommy.”