Chapter Text
Oleanders are beautiful flowers. Tommy used to think they only came in crisp white, but he’s long since learned they can come in an array of colors. He thinks the yellow ones are quite endearing, but he’s also seen them come in gradients of red, orange, and pale blue. The ones he has now are a bright, blush pink like a newborn’s cheeks or shoulders burnt in the sun.
It’s a hot morning in the SMP. The sun decided to come out with fists punching and the stone pathways of the garden burned right through Tommy's sandals as he picked the oleander.
Oleander is special. The ones they have in the royal garden are small, a single blossom could fit snug in the center of his palm. They’re quite potent, is the thing. Beautiful and deadly, bitter on the tongue so that most wildlife avoids them. Maybe someone would argue it’s foolish to keep something so dangerous right by the royal family and their advisors, and they could be right. But there are some skilled physicians he’s seen use bits and parts of the flower to make medicine to cure heart ailments or soothe pain. Some alchemists used the poison in plants such as oleander to replace spider eyes in positions of invisibility or to make less potent potions of harming. A safer method than say, fighting the giant spiders from the deep caves for their eyes.
Dream likes to collect and cultivate poisons. There are a dozen arguments as to why- to study them, to find medicinal uses for them, or some other altruistic cause- but it’s just there to kill people.
Of plants that can kill you, oleander is a special flower because the petals, leaves, stems- every part of it was poisonous. Even the water from a vase of oleanders could make someone ill, a single flower is enough to kill somebody. Poison is the plant’s protection, for something so small and immobile. Fragile against the elements, predators, and helpless to stop something from hurting them, they fight back in the few ways plants can. They may fall but they’ll take down the predator that consumed them, too. They were simple, nothing flashy like the snake lily, nor stank of death like the rafflesia arnoldii or titan arum. A person could pass by a cluster of oleanders and never realize they narrowly avoided death.
He brushes his fingers carefully over the velvety petals. He’s picked just a handful of them- overkill, really- and for a moment he feels perfect. Picturesque. It’s still early enough that everything is quiet and the sky is a pale yellow. No clouds protect him from the sun, but the curtains in his room are closed tight, thin light beams slicing through the gaps. Sweat beads around his forehead and down his neck ruining the image in his mind, but it’s fine. It’s just him and the flowers. Nobody has to witness him be ugly. Tommy's hands are already slightly red and inflamed from the poisonous sap dripping from the plant so there's no way to sugarcoat what's about to happen.
Tommy tugs off his mask and brings the flowers up to his nose to smell. They kind of smell like apricots, slightly sweet and slightly bitter. The flowers’ scent burns at his nose. Oleander is so abrasive to living things.
The leaves brush against his chin, tickling him. He smiles softly, before taking a deep breath.
Tommy devours the oleanders whole.
His heart doesn’t race in panic, but his hands do shake. This is always the worst part.
❅❅❅
“-Don’t think you were being clever, Theseus, because that was elementary. You can’t avoid the new year’s eve celebration so easily, especially when we have important visitors arriving today. Honestly, what were you thinking?” Dream spits at Tommy, dragging him down the empty hallway.
There are a lot of ways Tommy would prefer to spend his morning, and getting lectured by Dream was in none of them. He’s lucky he’s just being humiliated in the halls, being told off like a child in trouble. If they were somewhere private, Dream would probably hit him.
He scoffs, “You know what I was thinking! I wanted to be discovered dead in my room- preferably by Clementine or someone who’d dig me a shallow grave by the river. Something quaint, y’know? She’d make it a whole mystery as to what happened to me and you’d go on some wild goose chase for my corpse-”
“Stop rambling.”
“What’s the big mystery? I simply don’t want to go to any of the celebrations this week and- and what, watch you and the Kinoko nobility get drunk and make fools of yourselves while I have to deal with royalty from fuck off nowhere trying to kiss my arse? I’d literally rather die.”
Dream stops, so sudden that the momentum has him tripping over his own feet. “We are the soul of this country, and everything we do is to continue to fuel the heart of it. You will be on your best behavior while the celebrations occur and you will be punished for this once it is over. Be grateful that I find it in bad taste to penalize someone during such a celebratory time.”
Tommy scowls behind his mask, pulling his arm free, “Sure, sure. You just want to make it my job to deal with Bad after he’s had too many drinks.”
“You’re acting immature. Three hundred years and you’re still throwing tantrums like this?” Dream shakes his head in disappointment, “The first carriage arrives in six hours and you’ve put us behind schedule already. You’ve caused so much trouble for me on such an important day.”
The air pulls taut. There's expectation, a chance given to him to either redeem himself or guarantee a harsher punishment later. He knows what Dream wants to hear.
Tommy bites his tongue hard enough to feel tears gather in his eyes, and says, “I’m sorry Morpheus.”
“Sorry won’t fix the damage you’ve already created. Just- just check in with the general to double-check all the guards are ready for tonight. The last thing we need is an assassination attempt under our roof.” With that, the man breaks off to walk towards the kitchens.
Tommy shakes himself off, feeling slightly nauseous from nerves. Or it could be the oleanders he ate earlier. That was quite likely.
“And Theseus?” Dream calls from the end of the hall. The uncanny visage of a smile upon porcelain stares at him- a sight he’s long grown used to, but has never enjoyed.
“Yes?”
“Poisoning? Really? I thought you were at least a little more creative than that.”
Tommy rolls his eyes, his mask saving him yet another lecture as he watches Dream finally disappear around the corner.
Well. Four hours before the first guest arrives, and then a week of hell. Tommy walks with a stomp in his step, unafraid to show the world around him he was ticked off.
Tommy was completely justified in his opinions about the upcoming holiday. The New Year’s festival was such an unnecessary event. It’s supposed to be a simple way to tie the knot on the old year and continue onto the new, but it’s just an excuse for the upper class to spend an entire week partying and getting drunk. It’s all arbitrary. Kinoko’s new year is not for another couple of months, and Las Nevadas celebrated their new year a few months prior. Calendars and months are fickle things, given names based on the sun or moon or seasons. It’s all just time, plain and simple. Nothing makes it more special.
And because of such a superficial celebration, there are going to be tons of royals from all over the world at the palace, and it’s going to drain the life from Tommy’s soul- or, what little remains of it.
Events like these always end badly for Theseus- for Tommy- in general. He’s too unruly to win over the old nobility and too reclusive to appeal to the newer politicians. So, there’s always some shit show where he inevitably does something that pisses everyone off. But who could blame him? All those pricks talk about how labor costs have increased, what an inconvenience, they’ll have to cut losses- as if they don’t care about heartlessly firing workers, increasing hours, and cutting pay. Nobles view human life as another number to calculate, it’s disgusting. It makes him sick to his stomach. All the while, the rich live lavish lives at the top so proud of all their “hard work.”
But then they’d call him a hypocrite as he's one of the nobles living a comfortable life in the palace. But Tommy doesn’t want to be there, either!
There’s the wild and free part of his soul that wants to run through the marshes, sink his feet into the mud, and forget all about royal life. It’s impossible, with Dream always on his tail, but he can’t help but want.
Instead, he has the cold walls filled to the brim with lies and greedy hearts. There are no good men amongst those rich and powerful, Tommy has seen it all firsthand. If it were up to him, he’d burn the whole place down. He’d watch in vicious delight as the people screamed behind locked doors, bright crimson and orange eating up the walls. The gold plating and ornaments would melt, the wooden staircases and furniture char, and all that would remain would be an ashy crater and human bones. Bones are hard to burn.
Fire would never stop Dream, though. Nothing can. Centuries of failed attempts from Tommy have proved that.
He shakes his head, trying to clear out the mess of his thoughts. Dream expects work to be done and everyone is going to be swamped. If he slacks off all the servants will gossip about “lazy and uptight Viscount Theseus.”
Okay, okay. First, meet with the general.
It seems like a waste of time to send him to check up on the guards, but Dream isn’t anything if he isn’t paranoid. Tommy isn’t trusted, but he’s got a sharp eye. Assassinations are horrible for politics and reputation and if one successfully happened under their roof, well, it’d put a lot of plans on halt. And the blame would be put on Tommy’s shoulders.
He continues on his way to training rooms. General Sam will most likely be there.
❅❅❅
The General is actually in his office, which is the second place Tommy thinks to check. Sam’s an active guy who doesn’t like staying cooped up in one room all day, and it was common to see him helping train recruits or sparring with others. But it was busy times for all within the castle, and the General was not exempt from that. Busy times meant bureaucracy, paperwork, and organization. Tommy finds the man hunched over his desk writing a letter for someone.
Tommy feels a bit guilty dropping in on the guy unannounced, but that was Dream’s fault. Yeah. Fuck Dream, he was the one who decided to boss Tommy around in the first place.
The red lenses over the eyes of Sam’s mask gleam in the dimly lit room. He’s a scary-looking guy, taller than Tommy- which is a feat!- and looks like he could crush a watermelon with one hand.
Tommy admires him. General Sam is clever, he knows how to make well-crafted weapons, and is one of the best warriors within the SMP. He’s a guy who knows how the real world works and how to survive in it. And... he’s nice. Niceness is such a rarity for Tommy, he drinks up any non-mocking laughter or kind words thrown his way. Tommy hopes Sam smiles whenever they talk, somewhere under his mask. He cannot garner today whether the general was annoyed or pleased by Tommy’s visit, his voice too monotone to read. But he hopes.
They talk business, all official things. Tommy checks the guards put on duty for the evening. He checks their placements, their assigned paths, and each of their backgrounds. Sam gives him succinct summaries of all their training backgrounds and proficiencies. They’re meticulous, reviewing every plan with a fine-tooth comb. Tommy double and triple checks the guards' mapping. He has a job and he was going to do it thoroughly… and it didn’t hurt that he likes chatting with Sam, even if it was just work things.
There's a split consensus on Viscount Theseus- he's a spoiled brat who rose in rank and power by Morpheus’s favor, lacking any real talent. That, or he's a stuck-up prick who lives strictly by the rules and would snitch on anyone breaking them. Tommy knows he’s obnoxious, but a brat? Or a snitch? Who the fuck even came up with those rumors, they didn’t even accurately smear his name.
Sam was a good guy, though. He came from a long line of warriors dedicated to the throne, and when he was sixteen he joined the military efforts by the border. The man quickly made a name for himself, proving his skill and worth, and came back to the capital with shining medals and the admiration of his peers. Like his family before him, he swore fealty to King Eret, swearing to protect the royal family with his life. Sam was an honorable man, not quite made for the world of politics and two-faced nobles of the palace. But because of that, he didn't care about any rumors, especially not the ones about the infamous Theseus.
So, Tommy likes Sam.
Their conversation slowly veers off-topic to more mundane things. Sam’s been overworking himself recently and he’s had to stop by the sickbay for checkups. The man says the court physician is a fascinating man- Tommy’s reckless enough to know Ponk well, he’s been stuck in the infirmary plenty of times, and fascinating was much too kind a word for the eccentric.
Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t last. Soon enough Tommy is shooed away, for they were both too busy to be conversing so leisurely. He doesn’t complain and leaves Sam with his work.
Dream had been pissed earlier that Tommy “wasn’t pulling his weight” or whatever. The man was probably busy bossing around the organizers for tonight’s banquet, so Tommy decides the next thing on the agenda is to check in with the princess. He finds her, the only person within the palace who doesn’t look frazzled, always pristine and put together.
Princess Niki says all the guest rooms have been set up, each immaculate for every guest. Everything is cleaned, dusted, and polished to perfection. It’s all flawless, Niki would never settle for less- she certainly doesn’t need him getting in her way. She dismisses him easily.
She’s dutiful, as she’s in charge of most of the maids within the palace and any issues brought up by them to her, would be brought up by her to the next in the chain of command. Usually Niki could go to Dream or King Eret directly, but they were the busiest today. So Tommy is the next person in the rung. It’s unfortunate since she makes it very clear she dislikes him. It could be because of the rumors, or it could be because half the complaints brought to her from the maids are about him.
It’s not his fault the maids don’t like him. Well, maybe it is a little. He could make an effort to be more polite to his servants. He knows they’re just doing their jobs, but he can take care of himself just fine. Tommy doesn't need a dozen people tidying up his room or adjusting the straps on his mask or picking out his jewelry for him like he’s a show animal. That’s stuff he can do himself, so he shoos away the maids whenever he can, and sometimes he gets loud and aggressive with how he does it. It makes them dislike him. They whisper about how he disrespects them, how he’s unruly, how he must hide things with how secretive he is. Tommy has tried being friendly with his servants in the past, he’s done that song and dance. But eventually one is a spy, or a plant, or gets bribed by Dream. Or worse, used against him by Dream, which isn’t fair. For the people responsible for bringing him his meals and picking out his clothes, it’s better to remain impersonal.
Tommy believes that, but there is one maid who’s unafraid to tell him shit to his face: Miss Clementine, a resident of the palace for forty years, and a woman who takes no bullshit.
Clementine is the one who successfully hunts him down to discuss his personal preparations for the banquet- and every subsequent major event in the upcoming days. He's had so many new outfits tailored he could replace his old wardrobe with them. Where he’d prefer to run off and just throw on an old suit of his, she wrangles him into a session with the seamstress and tailor.
They’re uptight people who dislike him for many similar reasons as the maids. Tommy ditches his meetings with them any chance he can get, often leaving them in situations where they are put under a time crunch to finish hemming and sewing up his clothes for events. Clementine is their mediator- or, as much of a mediator she can be when she curses them all out for arguing.
All in all, it’s a hectic day that is only bound to get worse when the guests actually arrive.
The kitchen’s a bustling mess, basically a war zone with how grim and serious all the cooks and servers look. All the decorations and arrangements have been set up, but there are still people nitpicking the details. The ballroom, the dining halls, drawing rooms, gardens, music rooms- everything had to be perfect.
Honestly, there isn’t much else for him to do. Most servants groan at the sight of him or straight up curse him away so he doesn’t ruin anything. Nobody wants his help, and he’s not willing to go out on a limb to offer it.
Tommy could study up on the guests and prepare for who was going to show up, but Dream only gave him a partial guest list, which seems like an oversight. If Tommy has to prepare for so many guests, he should at least get to know who all was going to be there. But it was “unnecessary information for him to know.” Ugh.
The closest thing he can do to figuring out who’s all going to arrive is to watch the carriages roll in one by one. Sure, there were things he could offer to do- check the gardens, talk to the butlers, hell maybe even wrangle some information from Niki- but he’s bored. Watching carriages isn’t a riveting time-passer, but he could take a moment to get off his feet and have a respite from people. Prime knows he’s going to have no time to himself for the next week, he deserves a break.
And eh, it’ll be good practice for recognizing the family crests.
❅❅❅
Tommy finds a good perch on the windowsill of an empty guestroom to stare out the window, perfect for observing the front entrance to the palace. The giant, golden gates creak open as the first family arrives. It’s been roughly six hours since Dream yelled at him in the halls, still before noontime, with the big banquet not starting until the evening, but some people have come from far away to visit the SMP capital.
The heat has only gotten more blistering as the day moves on, the weather abnormally warm with how late it was into winter. There should be snow on the ground already, and yet the first of the carriages roll in with no icy sludge blocking their way. The vehicle is a giant cream-colored one with the crest of some smaller family from the outskirts of the SMP; old money that has fallen on hard times, who will most likely attempt to form an alliance with a richer noble while at the capital.
Tommy catalogs from his perch who has arrived and when. He balances who might have grudges against who, and who to keep away from who. Traditional nobility hates no-name aristocrats rising in rank, and the politicians hate the old, stuck in their ways nobles. Everyone smiles and greets each other kindly, but they all can’t stand each other.
It’s why Tommy hates dealing with them. But it’s always his job to keep track, lest Dream blames any future drama on Tommy being unobservant. It’s torture, the man probably thinks it’s funny to see Tommy fumble and lose his cool trying to mediate between nobles.
As the sun sits comfortably in the middle of the sky, Tommy’s nerves are too twisted up for him to go grab lunch, which is going to piss off Miss Clementine but that’s an issue for later-him. His eyes watch carefully for a specific carriage to arrive.
When he sees the familiar blue, white, and golden crest of Snowchetser, he bolts. Tommy jumps down stairs and leaps over railings- much to the dismay of the maids- and tumbles out the side doors, rushing down the stone path.
Tommy’s very excited to reunite with the two visitors who’ve come from the far north.
When he finds the Snowchester carriage outside it is already parked, so he darts around, looking and hoping the barons haven't already gone inside.
Tommy slows down when he finally spots the duo walking arm in arm- he wishes to run and crash into them, but there’s some dignity he needs to retain. The servants are already going to gossip about how “Viscount Theseus ran manically down the halls like a loose wild horse.”
Instead, he shouts to them, “Welcome! How are you enjoying your stay at the Greater SMP so far?”
Tubbo turns and waves when he spots him, “Hello, Lord Theseus. We’ve been here for naught but half an hour, how could we have an answer for you?”
He grins, jogging forward, “That is the part where you usually say ‘oh, absolutely splendid, thank you for the hospitality,’ Tubs.”
Tubbo gasps, clutching at his heart, “The disrespect! I am the dignified Tubbo Underscore, Lord of Snowchester, and I will be addressed as such.”
“My bad, Tubs.”
“Again! Wait until I- I file a complaint with the king! My delicate senses are insulted.”
“Oh don’t even joke about that. There’s going to be at least one person who throws a fit over not being called their entire title.” Tommy groans.
“Events like these always bring a little spectacle, it’s enjoyable to watch.” Ranboo laughs.
“For you, maybe. I’m the one who has to deal with it.”
The two ridicule him for his plight. He continues to whine about how much work he’s had, and they tease him in response.
He couldn't be happier. Tubbo and Ranboo are his best friends- even if they met under horrible circumstances.
The barons of Snowchester fought a long battle against the Greater SMP. They almost won, too, with their unmatched militaristic power. The rebellion crumbled when their capital was under siege for months, eventually falling to Dream’s forces. Their people were starving and sick, pushed into a corner. Tommy feels bad for any land conquered by Dream, but he was really rooting for Snowchester in that fight. Whether it was because they reminded him of own home and their rebellion, or because he admired their strength and resourcefulness, who’s to say. They still fell and it was tragic.
The three of them met as Snowchester was merged into the SMP lands and despite being enemies, they just clicked. Tommy and his chaotic nature unfit for a noble and the barons’ bitterness against the SMP went hand in hand.
Tommy likes Tubbo and Ranboo’s company. He’s seventeen, but not really, and it’s nice to have the company of others the same age as him. Even if Tubbo acts like an ancient with how clever he is. One moment he’s able to joke about bees, the next he can go off about weapons production and innovation in the construction of bombs. Truly a mad lad.
“It’s so good to see you. How have you been?” Ranboo asks, ignoring Tommy’s complaining.
Tommy shrugs, “Agh, same as usual. Never a quiet moment to be had. Things are always changing in the capital, and preparing for the festival has been hectic.”
“They’ve really outdone themselves. The decorations are quite… grand.” Ranboo says thinly. Grand is a nice way to put it. It’s pure opulence. Seriously, hanging from the lanterns are strings of rubies, and that's just the decorations for the outside.
“What you’re trying to sugarcoat is that this event is so lavish the spoons are going to be made from pure gold or something just as ridiculous, all while the citizens outside the castle gates starve,” Tubbo says, walking with a violent thump in his step.
“I’m trying to be an optimist.”
“It’s dumb. Morpheus and Eret are just trying to show off to the other visiting kings,” Tommy says.
The three stew in their discontentment.
“By the End, it’s hot. It’s winter, does it never snow here?”
Tommy says, “Sorry, we can’t all be like places named after snow. ”
“I hate coming to this place,” Tubbo says lowly, voice monotone.
Tommy hated the weather in the SMP when he first arrived, too. Overall, the lands under the Greater SMP aren’t cold places. Maybe some of the colonies up north receive heavier snowfall, but Tommy hasn’t been to them in person for decades. Instead, he suffers through unbearable heat. Sometimes in the middle of summer, when things are at their hottest, he flushes up pink like oleander. Only sometimes, since he’s adjusted to living in such a warm country. It wasn’t easy in the beginning, as his nights were spent in a sweaty stupor unable to fall asleep. Anything heavier than a thin linen sheet would suffocate him. His days were spent overheating and feeling exhausted. The hot weather made him sick often, and he’d be too nauseous to eat, dehydrated most of the time. The SMP is hardly an arid place. It’s quite temperate with trees that change to the color of fire in autumn, fall during the winter, and bloom in the spring. But Tommy doesn't like any sort of heat, preferring rain and miserable days where any sign of warmth seeps out of the air.
He’s learned it’s best to eat small meals of salted food and the art of sucking it up and ignoring all the sweat. He’s sympathetic to Tubbo and Ranboo’s struggles having to adjust to the climate. And the masks. It’s the trademarked symbol of a land conquered by the SMP- everyone has to wear masks as per the tradition. But masks make your face sweaty and muffle your voice, and they suck. Everything horrible is because of Dream, and he was the mastermind behind “oh wearing masks hides our identities, let’s make everyone suffer, too.”
Of course, it’s easier to complain about the weather when you dislike a place. It’s simple to say the heatwave hitting the SMP was a menace because it’s not like the SMP can control that. It’s safer to discuss than the politics, past grievances, or the people. They can bitch about the weather all they want because that’s all they can do.
There’s a kinship the three have, all truly powerless to the tyrants around them. He may sit in one of the highest courts in the world by the side of the crown’s advisor but there is no glory, no prestige, no respect for his name. Theseus is a puppet, just like everyone else. It’s why they stick together.
The trio makes their way inside the palace, where the sun’s scorching rays won’t reach them. The temperature is still warm, but it’s an improvement.
A maidservant approaches them in the hallways, bowing quickly.
“What is it, miss?” He asks sharply.
“I- I must show the Snowchester lords to their room… I believe the count is looking for you, sir.”
“The count can wait. Lead the way for us.” He gestures forward, sticking by Ranboo’s side.
The maid gives him a sour look but turns to show them the way to their guest room. It’s in the nicer part of the palace, where the rooms are the largest and filled with chandeliers and giant, plush beds with sheets made of silk. Snowchester was a valuable addition to the SMP, bringing a wave of innovation through technology and weapons. They’re treated like honored guests, but it doesn’t change the fact they’re prisoners.
The maid leads them to a room at the end of the corridor. “Your room, sirs.”
“Thank you, you’re dismissed.” Tubbo absently waves his hand
They open the door, and in the room stands Clara. She’s a familiar face since she’s one of the only people in the palace who doesn’t hate Tommy. And she’s a lovely person, always smiling and saying good morning to people. She’s nice.
“There you are, we’ve been waiting for you!” Clara smiles. From out behind her skirt, a child sticks their head out.
“Michael!” The two barons cheer, dashing forward.
She’s also the nanny for Snowchester’s heir apparent, and Tommy likes to check in from time to time to make sure the little guy is doing okay.
Ranboo wraps his arms around his kid and lifts him up into the air. Laughter and cheer fill the air as the family reunites. Micahel looks overjoyed, screeching as he’s spun and crushed in the arms of his parents.
Tommy’s heart melts at the sight. It also pangs that they must be kept apart. It's all Dream’s doing, everything shitty in this world is thanks to Dream.
After the failed war between Snowchester and the Greater SMP, Michael was sent to the SMP capital to continue his education. In reality, the kid is a hostage to use against his parents. None of them deserve to be used in such ways, all pawns in Dream’s games, but there isn’t anything Tommy can do to change the situation.
But even torn apart from their family and suffering under an oppressive regime, the barons of Snowchester are resilient. Tommy respects them, viciously and spitefully so. He admires Tubbo and Ranboo so fucking much. They continue to thrive and try to see the light at the end of the tunnel. They’re survivors.
Dream thinks he’s a god amongst men, better than the people around him. The man holds little respect for the people who have to endure hardship under him. But Tommy isn’t so quick to forget he used to be mortal just like them. Even after so many lifetimes, Tommy can’t figure out what was so special about him that drew Dream’s eye. He claimed they were deities, better than the rest of humanity, but Tommy’s never been so self-absorbed, never viewed other people as bugs. Tommy still admires the people around him.
Tubbo and Ranboo are his best friends. No matter how many times Tommy vows he won’t open his heart again, his heart ends up bleeding. Just because he's lived longer than them doesn’t mean he doesn't feel the same things as other people. They all feel happiness, sadness, and fear alike. He hasn't changed, hasn't become feelingless in his immortality.
It’s a dangerous game to allow his heart to be so vulnerable. Tommy plays it all the same.
Dream’s never quite been able to snuff out Tommy’s love of people. If anything, being immortal is what makes them lesser. Tommy’s lost his sense of time and finds himself in a state of complacency, and then somehow decades pass him by. Immortality has only been a detriment to him. He is no god, and Dream isn’t one either.
Tommy averts his eyes when Ranboo starts tearing up. “You three should catch up, I still have some work to finish. I’ll see you later at the banquet.”
“See you later, Theseus.” Tubbo waves. Ranboo does his best to as well, while holding a kid in his arms.
Tommy softly shuts the door behind him, breathing out heavily.
Tommy doesn’t have any other friends but Tubbo and Ranboo, who rarely travel the long distance from Snowchester to the SMP capital. They’ll be the one good thing to hold onto during this hellish festival. Tommy doesn't believe in lights at the end of tunnels, but they're the fire that keeps him from being submerged into darkness.
He knows they’re spies set in place by Dream, but he can’t help but love them anyway.
It’s hardly their fault their land was conquered, their son taken as a hostage to use against them. Dream was the bastard using them, it was always Dream. They have listen to Tommy talk, complain, and gossip- and report it all back to Dream. Tommy knows how powerless it feels to be a victim to the man. Dream has continued to ruin Tommy’s life for centuries, and Tommy has never been able to outsmart him. Maybe Dream wasn’t human anymore with how little pity or remorse he felt. He didn’t care for anything or anyone but power, riches, and fame. The SMP gives him all he wants and that’s all Dream has ever cared about, not people.
Except Tommy. Somehow, always Tommy. He’ll never let Tommy go.
❅❅❅
Tommy slips his mask off in the privacy of his own room. His skin is sticky from sweat, so he dampens a washcloth to freshen up. The cold water is soothing against his burning skin. Alongside the hot weather, he’s layered up in his nice clothes and a cloak to be “presentable” for the arriving guests. He’s still slightly ill from the morning’s poisoning, so he’s overwhelmed.
He fiddles with the straps of his mask, staring at the pitch-black dots that look back at him. Tommy closes his eyes, to somehow cut himself off from them.
The whole “everyone in the SMP must wear masks” tradition started from Dream hundreds of years ago. While the man could easily forge new identities, people catch on quicker to a teenager who never seems to age. Thus masks, so no one would see Tommy’s unaging face. The two of them could continue to live in the palace without ever getting recognized or called out for their eternal youth. It’s a dumb tradition with a bullshit origin, but it stuck. And frustratingly, it worked. With the simple switch of their names and positions in society, Dream and Tommy have hidden behind the scenes for centuries.
Tommy hates the masks.
It’s lonely, never seeing the faces of the people around him. Tommy’s never seen Sam’s eyes, one of Clementine’s rare smiles, or any of the expressions his best friends made. Even if there was a sea of people in front of him, he couldn’t see them. People become less real when their faces are hidden. It’s easier to not feel empathy because all you see is a mask, not a person.
But as the Greater SMP grows, so does the tradition. More people become unknowable.
Tubbo had a new mask. The last time Tommy saw him he wore a bright yellow mask with a black symbol on it, one he didn’t recognize. The one Tubbo wore now was a pale lilac color with flowers and bees patterned on it. Ranboo had his classic half-white, half-black mask, but Tubbo has changed his.
It wasn’t the strangest thing- most nobles had wardrobes full of just masks. The more the better! Even the common folk of the SMP have one or two studier masks, the poorer people wearing ones of cloth. But every SMP noble has an array of finely made masks of porcelain or shaped metal. Tubbo never seemed like someone who enjoyed the tradition, yet it was catching on with him.
Maybe Tubbo was accepting his new reality. The people of Snowchester were adjusting to wearing masks, as mandated by the SMP. They already lost the war, they can’t say no now.
Flowers and bees. It was more peaceful. Tubbo once explained the symbol on his last mask was used as a warning in the labs for dangerous chemicals.
Tommy rolls the mask in his hand, watching as sunlight reflects off the white porcelain, a permanent frown etched into it. He's the Melpomene to Dream’s Thalia, the muses of tragedy and comedy. Everything is a play to Dream, the empire he rules the stage, the people the characters he can treat as badly as he pleases. There are no consequences for Dream, the director of this tragic fucking performance. The only thing to laugh at was how powerless everyone was to Dream’s orchestrations.
Centuries ago, Dream saw Tommy and decided that he was his. Immortality like a curse was forced upon him, and he’s been alive and suffering ever since. Tommy never wanted to be Dream’s, never wanted to be stuck within the SMP, but running never worked, and dying- well, dying meant getting revived.
And he’s died. Oh, how he has died.
Call him a coward, or weak, or pathetic, but he stopped fighting a long time ago. Tubbo and Ranboo fought the good fight and went as long as they could, but when it started hurting their people, they stopped. Tommy wasn’t so careful, and Dream has left a bloody massacre in response to Tommy’s disobedience. They all learn their lessons somehow, and his are written in crimson.
He can’t escape, he can’t win, and he can’t die, so there’s only ever been one path for him to walk; there’s the narrow line Dream keeps him on, and he travels along it carefully. There is nowhere else for him to go. A tragedy is a grave story that ends unhappily, and this is his ending. He’s the tragic hero, he’s Theseus, but his fall never ends. It’s just a constant wait as he braces to hit the ground.
Tommy puts his mask back on.
❅❅❅
“This collar is going to suffocate me. My untimely death will be because of you lot, and Count Morpheus would be very cross about it.” Tommy hisses out.
The servant straightening out his coat goes pale, but Clementine scoffs, “We can’t have our guests thinking we run a barn house. We’re making you presentable. Grow up and deal with it.” She pulls his hood around him tighter, covering his hair.
The time for the banquet has finally arrived. He kind of wants to hurl at the thought, his nerves going haywire.
All the weeks of preparation have led to this moment- the grand beginning of the new year’s festival. The elite of the elite from around the world will be dining under the SMP’s roof, and they must prove themselves to be the apex predator amongst them.
Clementine hands him a cup of tea, like the angel she is. “You didn’t eat lunch, drink that to settle your stomach. It’s not going to be my job cleaning out the inside of your mask if you throw up.”
He unhinges the bottom part of his mask to take a sip. The drink is warm and slightly bitter, but he trusts it isn’t something poisoned. Not that he’s against getting poisoned, he poisoned himself just that morning. It was a shame Dream found his corpse first, if he hadn’t then Tommy wouldn’t have to be in this stuffy suit about to go to a banquet.
“Speaking of masks, you’re not actually going to wear that are you?” Clementine asks, judgment clear in her voice.
He places a hand up against pale porcelain. Of all the masks he owns, he’s chosen one of his simplest ones. Two back dots and a line swirled downwards in a frown, nothing extra. It matches Dream’s smiling mask, but the older usually has a more expensive taste; his masks are often bejeweled or lined in silver and gold.
“I don’t need anything flashy. Morpheus has that covered for the both of us.”
She sighs, “It’ll be on my head if the count gets upset.”
“Don’t stress so much, I’m sure he won’t even notice what I’m wearing. He’s more concerned over all the guests and kissing up to all the annoying fucks.”
“You’ll have to worry about that, too,” She grumbles as she adds ruby cufflinks to the ends of his sleeves.
He hums, letting the maids finish up their touch-ups. They do their job flawlessly, even if they do so silently in stiff movements. Perfection has been demanded from all of them and if his appearance doesn’t live up to Dream’s expectations, the servants will suffer for it. But everyone’s displeasure is clear as they work. He is the hated Viscount Theseus, after all.
He glances over himself in the mirror. There’s not a single thread out of place, crooked piece of jewelry, or an ill-fitted piece of clothing on him. He’s dressed in vibrant reds and gold, looking all the part of an honorable SMP noble.
Tommy feels less like himself than ever.
Getting dressed up has always made him feel more like a doll. Adorned in clothes he didn’t pick, uncomfortable and far too expensive for someone like Tommy to be wearing, he’s essentially a doll to dress and throw around as Dream pleases.
The stage tonight is a banquet, an interesting event where many will be in half masks or maskless to make eating easier. But only foreigners would dare go maskless since it’s seen as improper by SMP nobility. It’s the first night of the festival so it’s going to be the grandest. And the most crowded. All of Tommy’s energy will be sapped away, and it’ll continue to be for as long they have guests to entertain.
Giant, festive meals are the worst. So many of the guests get drunk, make fools of themselves, and pick fights. And the socializing, Prime, the socializing. So many people spoke with their fingers crossed behind their backs and a scornful look under their masks. They’ll try and suck up to him, as he is Count Morpheus’s assistant, but they’ll also gossip about him behind his back.
He’s already weary just imagining the mayhem. Tommy braces for a long night.
❅❅❅
The moment the dark wooden doors of the banquet hall open in front of him, Tommy’s submerged into a world of vibrant colors, loud noise, and regret.
The grand hall has been transformed for the banquet, unrecognizable while covered in drapes, jewels, flowers, and low burning lights. The Greater SMP has always held big, grand events. For Dream, it was a way to flaunt wealth and power; his kingdom could afford such luxuries and still thrive. Even then, this celebration takes the cake. There hasn’t been such a big event held in decades. Royalty from all over the continent is here, and the festivities will continue for days. They’re all dressed to the nines, making big impressions for the first night.
Tommy, once again, feels like an intruder in such a scene. He grew up poor, dressed in rags, and grew up in a mud hut. Some new fancy clothes will never change that he was once wild, and he’s not some easy to domesticate animal- it’s why Dream keeps his chain so tight, the cage always locked.
Tommy eyes the crowded room, long tables covered in intricate silk and lace tablecloths, strips of colorful fabric strung across the room above their heads, and large arrangements of bluebells, crocus, and dahlias line the tables. In the center of the room, a giant diamond chandelier shines as the brightest point in the room, light refracting and painting drops of color all over people’s masks.
Some foreign guests wear masks to follow SMP tradition, even if it’s mostly simple ones with basic patterns- flowers, trees, natural scenes. The room is warm and stuffy, scented with the smell of orange blossom flowers and jasmine, which makes the air heavy to breathe. It takes a while to get accustomed to wearing a mask for such a long time. Most kids born and raised in the kingdom grow up with the tradition. But with the loud chatter, warm air, and low-lit lanterns, a lot of the non-SMP guests have started to take off their masks.
The Kinoko Emperor is entirely maskless, as it is not in their tradition, but he does hide behind a beautiful fan; it depicts some fantastical landscape with giant mushrooms and fairies. He leans over to whisper to his general, who holds his own fan of flames.
According to Dream, the emperor is in a secret relationship with his general, which is unconventional. They keep their relationship hushed, but Dream and General Sapnap go on hunting trips together, so Tommy hears all the second-hand gossip. He also gets an insider’s look into the internal structure of the neighboring kingdom. The emperor is a forgetful man, dedicated to his poetry and preserving historical folktales over appeasing the nobles. But nobody dares to speak against him, for it is said he stopped a tsunami from crossing their shores, so the powers above favor him. The Kinoko nobility is probably waiting for some natural disaster to pin on him to finally dethrone him.
Sat at the next table over, the Badlands crew are already noisy and rowdy so early into the night. Viceroy Skeppy is holding a goblet of wine, speaking loudly with the people around him. As always, the man is covered in gold and gleaming jewelry. His mask is covered from top to bottom in diamonds and is probably worth as much as a small palace. He glows like a star in the dim candlelight. His advisor’s behavior is no better, also drunkenly screaming about something, his mask skewed on his face. Not even its visage of a demon could make him look intimidating.
On the sidelines, Tubbo and Ranboo are in their own world, probably having a grand time while Tommy suffers. They have the wonderful excuse of having to put their son to bed, so they’re relaxing on one of the settees before dinner starts. Then, they will disappear while Tommy is stuck having to speak pleasantries and discuss current events with the guests.
Duke George is noticeably absent, as he always is for important events. If his lineage wasn’t so pristine, his family part of the founders of the SMP, and if Dream didn’t support him, he would've been overthrown by now.
Tommy makes his way through the sea of chairs and people to Dream’s side, standing in the shadows by the royal family’s table.
“Hello, Morpheus. How are you?” Tommy asks to be polite, not truly giving a shit.
“Hello. You’re late. Eret is about to give their little speech.” Dream says. Tommy looks over to the table for the royal family, set perpendicular to all the others.
King Eret is sat above them all, observing the happenings behind their mask of a pure white, set with precious gems, and inlaid with the gold patterns of a sunrise. The king of the SMP seemingly holds all the power as the head ruler, but Eret is merely another one of Dream’s puppets. The royal family has always been another mask Dream could hide behind to control the SMP in secret. The king is clever, they’re probably aware of the paper throne they sit upon, but what can one do in such a situation? Dream is the trusted hand to the crown, the most clever advisor who has led the SMP to prosperity with his insight.
Princess Nihachu is in an even worse position, never considered or listened to as the youngest member of the royal family. She’s got even more spitfire and a drive to lead the country, but she’s stuck throwing tea parties and organizing the maids’ records. She sits to the left of his majesty, her mask various blues and purples, set with a glossy sheen. It’s so beautifully crafted it’s easy to forget the fact it’s a mask of a vicious aquatic monster.
King Eret stands from their seat in the center, raising their hands. The room instantly quiets.
They turn their head as if surveying the crowd, and starts speaking, “Welcome esteemed guests to the annual SMP celebration of the new year, and return of the sun. I am honored to have so many renowned people here today. I know that some have traveled almost the whole continent just to be here with us tonight. I hope everyone's rooms have been comfortable and our services accommodating.
The new year is a precious holiday here in the Greater SMP. It’s one of our oldest celebrations and connects us with our ancestors. Hundreds of years ago, they sat and dined together to celebrate just as we are now. And the new year is a good time to reflect- what is it that you’ve become content with in your life? What needs to change? Have you let yourself take agency over your fate, or are you the prey to the predators around you? This new year I hope we all celebrate as the strong and the victorious. May we all feast like lions, and may this next year be bountiful for us all.
With that, I’m sure we’re all quite famished, so let the meal begin.”
Everyone claps as Eret sits back down. Then, the servants flood out, quick as graceful in their movements to set out the plates and bowls of appetizers- the first of many courses of food to be served.
Tommy reaches for a platter of fruit when Dream snatches his wrist. Tommy snaps, “Hey, what the heck man, can’t a guy eat?”
“No, we’re going to greet our guests. We’ve got to be hospitable hosts.”
Tommy groans, following in the shadow of Dream as he starts conversation with the nearest envoy.
There’s no way the night could get worse for him.
❅❅❅
Tommy keeps track of every guest he sees and greets, trying to create a list in his head. His brain feels two seconds away from exploding. Most people there were old nobility and the filthy rich since the New Year’s festival was a lavish holiday, and it didn’t appeal to the more humble families. He’s unfamiliar with a handful of the guests- he knows every family from the SMP, he’s had that shit memorized for years. But there were foreign diplomats, nobles, and even some kings from small neighboring countries.
Then, there are the guests he’s closer with. Viceroy Skeppy hasn’t gotten any less annoying from the last time he visited. That was less than a year ago, and he still mocks and teases Tommy while Dream and Bad catch up. But the viceroy wasn’t too bad, they both have a spirit of mischief that gets them in plenty of trouble. And he drops a dozen diamonds into Tommy’s hand as a “small welcoming gift,” so he can forgive him.
Dream and Tommy make their way around the room, Tommy’s stomach growling in complaint. The tables are set with bowls of steaming soup and plates of chicken, pork, and pasta. Tommy wouldn’t even complain about being handed a salad at this point, starving and bored to tears.
He thinks they finally finished, hours later, once they make their full rounds down the long tables but Dream drags him to a narrow staircase. It leads to the second level. The balconies are reserved for their most respected guests and any royalty that wanted to dine away from the crowd. Tonight they were supposed to be empty as it was the first night of the banquet, and it was in bad taste to be set away from the crowd. Everyone was socializing, being proper guests. First impressions were important when you were networking.
“Up here are the last people, but the most important. The Antarctic Emperor seldom travels outside the capital, so we’re lucky to have him and his guests here today. If this goes well, our kingdoms could be on the road to becoming allies and-”
“Wait a fucking second, did you say the Antarctic Emperor- you should’ve fucking told me he was coming! I would’ve prepared better- I- ”
“Oh, it wasn’t necessary since you’ll barely be speaking with any of them. This is important and I can’t risk you making a fool of the SMP. They’d never view us as respectable allies, then.”
Tommy swallows heavily, indignant. He’s overheating again in his too-fancy clothes and all the walking the two have done, and he’s angry. He’s torn between being insulted Dream doesn’t trust him with any real responsibility, and relief that there’s no expectation for him to entertain any more royals. Either way, he loses.
They walk up the stairs, turning around the corner. It’s unbelievable news that anyone from the Antarctic Empire is even here, but explains why they’d break social convention to dine by themselves. They notoriously keep themselves secluded, trusting only those from their inner circle, and never roam outside the Empire's borders. And they could afford such strict policies since they never seemed to struggle with famines or resource depletions. Any of the militaristic attacks against them in the past centuries have all failed miserably.
So, why leave their bubble to visit the SMP?
Dream stops by the last balcony. It’s in a strategic place, set in such a way that those sitting in it would be hidden from view but able to spy on everyone else. Veils of curtains block most of his view, but Tommy spies three shadowy figures. Guards dressed in light blue stop them from entering, their faces stern.
“I am Count Morpheus, hand to the crown, and this is my assistant. I wish to welcome your leaders to our country and pass on his majesty's message,” Dream says amicably.
One guard slips behind the curtain onto the balcony, passing Dream’s message along. They come back, nodding their head and granting them permission to enter.
The curtains are pulled back and Tommy sees the three figures clearly for the first time.
The balcony is decorated to be more comfortable than the seats down below. There are colorful cushions and foot rests set up for the lounging royalty. He looks over the emperor, dressed in a blue suit, golden crown, giant wings protruding from his back, and- wait.
No. No way.
Tommy stares, eyes wide and watering from the intense pressure in his chest. That cannot be his heart beating, not when it feels like the thump-thump-thump is suffocating him instead of keeping him alive.
“Greetings, your majesties. As the hand to the throne, I pass on His Majesty’s gratitude. Thank you for coming all the way from the Antarctic, I’m sure it was a long journey. The SMP welcomes you, may Prime’s grace be with you.” Dream gives the normal platitudes, but Tommy still stares in awe. He’s glad his mask hides his utter shock.
Because he- he knows these people.
His majesty Lord Zephyrus, emperor of the Antarctic, smiles heartlessly, “The pleasure is all mine, thank you for inviting us to this celebration. May the new year be prosperous for us all.”
He raises a glass, and his two guests follow suit.
Tommy swallows heavily, clenching his hands to hide their shaking.
He recognizes them. It’s been so long- impossibly long- but he used to know them.
The Antarctic Empire royalty whisper to themselves, slowly switching to their harsh mother tongue. Even if their general can speak without the hint of an accent, the other two rulers do. Tommy knows the language they speak, it’s his mother tongue as well. They banter about the annoying visitors and formalities they have to follow. Dream’s voice is a distant buzz in his ears. Nobody gives Tommy a second glance.
His hand twitches, wanting to reach out, but he schools himself.
Once upon a time, before the Greater SMP, the masks, immortality, Dream- Tommy was just an unruly kid who thought he could always be free to run wild and unchained like the breeze. He used to be poor, freezing, and hungry but he used to be his own. Then he found a family and lost them just as quickly.
And he knew those men- not leaders of an empire yet. They were just infamous warriors then, yet they still commanded power and respect.
He’s met these men before, maybe by different names- The Angel of Death, The Siren, and The Blood God. Lord Zephyrus, Admin Icarus, and General Protesilaus.
Technoblade, Wilbur, and Philza.
Few know their true names and survive. But Tommy knew them, called them allies, friends, and family. Once upon a time.
But that was over three hundred years ago.
❅❅❅
Tommy leaves the first moment he can, stumbling backward and dashing through the curtains. He rushes down the stairs knowing Dream will scold him later for being so rude to their guests, but he has to. His heart couldn't take it.
Phil barely acknowledged him. Dream did most of the talking while Tommy did his best not to vomit then and there. And Wilbur- Prime, Wilbur- kept whispering the Techno. Technoblade, who taught him how to swordfight, who used to braid his hair, who used to tell Tommy ancient stories. Those three used to love him, cherish him, and he used to daydream about them coming to rescue him. But they were supposed to be mortal, they died a long time ago. Or- or he thought they did. Obviously, with his past flung back into his face, that wasn’t the case.
He instantly runs to find Ranboo and Tubbo. They thankfully haven’t left yet, but Michael is already passed out in Tubbo’s arms.
“Are you okay?” Ranboo asks when he spots him walking their way.
He rubs a hand over his mask, “I’m going to throw up. Throw up or break something.”
“That wouldn’t be ideal.” Tubbo laughs, rocking back and forth.
“What happened?”
Tommy laughs hysterically, “I met the Antarctic Emperor. And the prince, and the general.”
“Oh. Were they intimidating?”
Quite the opposite. He found comfort in their faces. They were the people he wished saved him when he couldn’t save himself. But they were supposed to be dead.
“Yeah.” He says instead, because he can’t explain any of that.
Ranboo winces sympathetically, “You could escort us back to our rooms if you need a breather?”
Tommy nods, exhaling roughly. He feels like he just ran a marathon and coughed his lungs out. Oleander poisoning didn’t compare to the turmoil he now felt.
He watches as Ranboo helps Tubbo stand up with their kid in his arms. Their hands stay interlocked as they make their way to the exit, Tommy in tow.
“Well, while you were busy the viceroy’s advisor ended up spilling wine all over the Earl of Manberg. It was hilarious, the two got in such a heated fight that the guards had to pull them apart.”
Tommy laughs. He knows he still sounds shaky, but they don’t mention it. “He will certainly hear an earful from the king tomorrow. Dramatics aren’t appreciated during welcoming events.”
The hallways are much cooler without the hundreds of bodies heating up the space, with no heavy scent of flowers or conversation clogging up the air. They chat quietly as they walk, so as not to disturb Michael’s slumber. They arrive at the duo’s guest room too fast, Tommy’s thoughts still racing.
“Goodnight, lads. I’ll be suffering.” He says, watching them disappear into the comfort of their room. Clara is there, silent as she gently takes Michael from Tubbo’s arms.
“Goodnight. Good luck, big man.” Tubbo says, and the door shuts behind them.
Tommy walks back alone, calmer than before but still shaken. His uncomfortable shoes click on the marble floor.
It’s not every day you meet the ghosts of your past. And this wasn’t just anybody, even if he would’ve been thrilled to somehow meet Deo or Bitzel, hell maybe even Wisp, again. These were the three men who promised to give him the world and delivered on it. Tommy has lost so many friends, but those three were family. It’s like the perfect miracle he always wished for, turned into reality right in front of him. It wasn't right, though. They were late and didn’t even know it was Tommy, their Tommy, behind the mask. The fucking masks.
His heart is frenzied, a mess of emotions he doesn’t have time to untangle. There’s fear, love, hate, bitterness, excitement, and hope. Tommy hasn’t felt hope in a long time. It’s terrifying. He let go of hope for a reason.
His hunger is long gone, an anxious knot tied in its place. Dream will be waiting for him, to scold and belittle. But for the first time in years, there’s something bigger than Dream to worry about. He approaches the doors to the banquet hall once again, hands still shaking.
Tommy takes a deep breath, and enters.
❅❅❅
The banquet goes on without any more hiccups, surprisingly. Some people retire early for the night, some drink far too many cups of wine, all the same things that happen at any big party. Dream doesn’t mention Tommy’s stunt on the balcony or his subsequent disappearance, but he is still on edge the whole night.
Tommy knows he can’t keep glancing up to the balcony where Phil, Wilbur, and Techno are- but he can’t help it.
What are the chances they’re just three random strangers who somehow look just like the people from his past? No, that’s ridiculous. He already knows the true answer.
They’re immortal. Immortal, just like Dream and Tommy.
He had considered himself close to them but in all the years they knew each other, they had never mentioned anything about being immortal. That seemed like something they would’ve told him, right? Or were there more secrets between them than he thought? Tommy never gave them the full truth about who he was, either.
He’s angry they didn’t trust him enough to tell him, because he could’ve tried harder to escape. After a hundred years and the certainty that the three of them had died, Tommy gave up in his fight against Dream.
He’s also so happy he could cry.
Tommy thought everyone who knew had died. Dream made sure of it when he burned The Bay to the ground, but after so many years he thought… he thought he was alone. He thought that Dream would be his one constant, through thick and thin, who would be there for him. And even if Dream was a horrible bastard, he would be there. Tommy has never wanted to be alone, and as much as he hates to admit it, immortal life with Dream is better than immortal life by himself. Dream knew that and used that fact against him to keep Tommy obedient.
There are new immortals in town- or, perhaps not new. Ones known and met again.
A part of him wants to barge onto the balcony, rip his mask off, and beg his old family to take him back, but that’s impulsive. Tommy’s smarter than that. He’s old enough to know that as long as he has cards others don’t know about, he holds power. Right now Dream has no idea Tommy has a new escape route right in front of him. He must act discreetly and plan this out. He won’t be hasty and approach the Antarctic royals tonight, but soon.
Soon.
❅❅❅
Tommy leaves the party when it becomes so late it’s practically early morning. Somehow a few guests were still sitting about, chatting and eating, but he finally hit his limit. And the three figures on the balcony disappeared hours ago.
Sitting in the quiet of his bedroom feels surreal after the day Tommy’s had. He woke up desperate enough to eat oleanders and ended it with the impossible turning real. The dead are alive and they are giving him hope.
The whole day has been exhausting for Tommy, but fruitful.
Tommy sits curled up in a chair by his bed, not yet ready for sleep. He stares out his window, pitch-black sky and bright stars greeting him. Dream is with him, to debrief him or whatever. Maybe to lecture him for all the shit he did wrong.
“Your head is in the clouds. Something is on your mind. Something about the Antarctic royal family.” Dream states. With no masks to separate them, the man can read Tommy like an open book. That’s what centuries together will lead to, no matter how much Tommy despises it. He can read Dream just as easily.
He bites his lip, “It’s odd, innit? They never leave their country, are known for being isolationists, and then they come here? They must have something planned, or ulterior motives.” It’s part of the truth- it is odd they’ve decided that now, of all times, to leave their bubble.
What if- what if they came for him?
Tommy bites his tongue, quietly punishing himself for such foolish thoughts. There was no way they knew Viscount Theseus and street rat Tommy were the same person. They… the three of them had promised they’d come for him, but they never did. It’s been a long time since Tommy held his breath waiting for them. There’s another reason, one he can’t figure out with the little information he has.
“Of course there’s an ulterior motive. The goal is to convince them we’re too valuable of an ally or too powerful of an enemy to risk upsetting. Am I clear when I say that you will avoid them at all costs? Knowing you, you’ll piss one of them off and start a war.”
Tommy slowly looks away from his window, back to Dream, “... You are clear. I won’t even think of approaching them.”
“This is an important time for us, Tommy. As much as you like to sit around and complain that the new year festival is just an excuse for nobles to entertain themselves and flaunt their money, it is also a vital time period for us to network, gain allies, and continue to appease the allies already have. If we actually form an alliance with the Antarctic Empire, we’ll be one step closer to taking over the world.”
“It’s still just about the money and mind games for you.”
“We’re building the greatest kingdom in the world- history has known no other empire as great. I have ambition, greed is a good thing when it’s used to build great things.”
“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” Tommy sighs, exhausted. It’s been a long day, and he’s heard this rant from Dream a thousand times, he knows there’s no use in arguing with him.
Dream’s face grows serious, “In the upcoming week, you’ve got to make sure the Viceroy and his party are kept happy. The new mine will lead to a wave of funding for bigger infrastructure projects, but he and his advisor will argue against our use of it. I predict Emperor Karl will try and offer a new trade deal between our kingdoms, but we’ll have to politely decline all of them. Sapnap says just before they left, he had a bout of amnesia and disappeared into the woods for two days. The councilmen were, predictably, enraged by his majesty's actions. Any agreements made with him could fall through when he’s overthrown.”
“Does Sapnap believe he’ll be overthrown? Or are you being paranoid? They’ve been our ally for a long time, so cutting them off might not be the wisest choice.”
“Sapnap is a lovesick fool who believes that the gods will protect them. He’s too idealistic for his own good, but if he doesn’t want to listen to reason then I can’t help him. Kinoko will go through a revolution soon, and I want no part of it. Emperor Karl isn’t a stable ally, so focus on the other visitors over him.”
They talk about politics, war, trade, all that fun stuff, for an hour before they’ve gone over all of Dream’s plans. Every guest is a chess piece Dream is anticipating the moves for, and he’ll settle for nothing less than decisive victory.
“Is that everything?” Tommy asks.
Dream clicks his tongue, “You’ve been so uncouth, it’s unbecoming. Fix up your attitude for tomorrow.”
“Yes, Dream.”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten the shit you pulled this morning. You’re on thin ice.”
“I said yes, Prime. I understand.”
Dream’s mouth goes thin in displeasure, but it’s Tommy’s lucky day since he lets it go. “Good night, then. It will be an early start tomorrow, make sure to be punctual.”
He nods, “Good night.”
Dream pulls back on his mask and leaves. The moment his door clicks shut, Tommy sags in relief.
He looks up to the crescent moon. The night will pass, and the morning will come.
The true end of the year is tomorrow, and the tradition in the SMP is to stay up to watch the sunrise to make sure the sun comes with them into the new year. It’s a ridiculous sentiment left from their ancestors who thought the sun was a bird who could leave them behind if it so wished. Thousands of years ago the people of the land waited with bated breath until sunrise to see if they had been abandoned. With genuine relief, the sunrise used to make people joyous that they hadn’t been abandoned by powerful and unknowable gods. Now humanity is smarter, they know better. The sun is a fixed construct that acts in a predictable manner- it’s not a capricious bird deity.
The gods don’t care enough about humanity to linger so closely. If the deities were real, Tommy would have seen some proof by this point in his life. Even Dream was an atheist- or, he thought himself better than any god and so he saw no need to worship them.
Tommy was raised on respecting the spirits of the land. In the bitter cold, the people held onto every last bit of hope that they could survive another year. If giving up valuables to unseen beings could lead to crops growing better, that risk would be made. It was better not to chance angering the gods. But Tommy survived off his wit and talents alone, and he saw no greater powers. All his prayers have been ignored. The only deity he knows is Prime, a false idol he carved himself to grant some sort of peace of mind. He knew she’d always let him down, so there was no need to wait with bated breath.
Maybe that's what the ancestors did, too. They created stories of all-powerful gods to laugh about the unfairness of life, and their children misunderstood the lesson being taught to them. Maybe the wooden statues that filled the temple in his hometown were always hollow.
There is nothing real, nothing concrete about the gods. Seeing Wilbur, Techno, and Phil again after so much time is a miracle- but it is not an otherworldly gift. It is not the gods that have given Tommy this chance to escape, and he hardly believes in a thing such as fate. It’s luck, and if he isn’t careful, he’ll lose this chance.
Dream has banned him from approaching them. Somehow, he must reach out to his family from ages ago. Tommy has finally found his lifeline out of the prison that is The Greater SMP palace.
No more will he have to worry about being paraded like some circus act to amuse Dream, no more must he follow his oppressive rules, and no more shall he be alone and unloved.
Tommy is going to be free