Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy was one of those kids who were a bit too curious about the world, or so Wilbur had always said, and their dad used to say that as the older brother, he was mostly right about things and the younger should listen to him.

The blonde thought that his curiosity was accurate, proportional and perfect, not exaggerated at all, thank you very much. After all, he took after his father - even their neighbors kept saying that he was a miniature version of Phil. For Tommy, it was only a matter of time until black wings would sprout from his back, thanks to which he would travel the whole world.

Magic worked in a specific way, and not every hybrid could’ve been sure what traits they would end up with. In fact, the premise was simple - you inherited the traits of the people you trusted the most; thus most people took after their parents.

Of course, there were also people who couldn’t undergo the manifestation of these traits in a safe environment. People who were lonely, did not have hybrids around them - at least not ones who they trusted without limit – ended up gaining random traits, usually intended to enable them to survive in difficult conditions. Manifestations under stress were bloody and unpleasant, and the hybrids themselves often lost their natural instincts, or did not develop them at all.

Sometimes the stress could’ve even cause no manifestation at all. However, this was such a rare phenomenon that families with hybrid blood but remaining human were almost unheard of. After all, there was a time for everyone, even with many years of delay.

Wilbur used to say that he would not be able to discover his second nature. Tommy, as befits a six-year-old, was almost an adult, so like a real grown-up he didn’t like his brother's moods. The brunet often spent time locked in his room, sometimes he didn’t want to eat, and even more often he didn’t even want to get out of bed.

Tommy didn't like when Wilbur got into that kind of sadness. Once his brother tried to explain to him that it sometimes happens; that people feel an internal pain that prevents them from doing anything. The blonde tried to find a cure for this pain by bringing various herbs and potions to his involuntary patient, but nothing seemed to help him.

Over time, Tommy learned that The Bad Days had to be just waited out.

Usually they passed when their dad showed up - Wilbur often refused to eat until he saw him. As he came back, he regained his appetite, started playing guitar again, and did not spend all days in bed.

But Phil was not a tamed parrot. He valued independence, and his travels were something he never intended to give up. It seemed he didn’t feel regret when he missed Wilbur's tenth birthday. He was gone when Tommy fell into the river at the age of five and almost drowned. There were nights when Tommy himself couldn't even remember his face and voice.

But it didn't matter, because he always came back. And when Tommy would grow up and get his wings, they'd go on an adventure together. Their entire family would travel together, never leaving anyone behind again.

Tommy was convinced that even if Wilbur had not grown wings, he would have carried his brother himself. Phil would surely be proud to see Tommy's wings and it would be enough to make him stop leaving them.

This, however, was in a potential future. Now Tommy was only six years old and the manifestation was well ahead of him, and Wilbur, six years older, had one of The Bad Days.

Tommy went for a walk; he was six, he could take care of himself. Phil himself repeated that he was truly independent and needed no one. Wilbur's face took on a funny expression as he had said it; he bit his lip and looked away, but every now and then he looked at their father, frowning, with his face getting slightly red.

The six-year-old had no idea what his goal was - he just needed to get out of the house. He didn't want to spend all day playing with the wooden soilders and listening to Wilbur's sobbing every time Tommy tried to cheer him up. Sometimes he would start to breathe funny too, bending over and covering his mouth with his hand.

Tommy hated the The Bad Days Wilbur.

A strange hum caught his attention. The sound grew louder and purple particles began to spill out of between the trees. The particles shimmered for a moment before dissolving into thin air.

Tommy squeezed through the berry bushes, scratching his knees painfully, and stared in surprise at the obsidian frame. Its center was filled with a strange mist, which seemed to rotate. The particles danced in the air like it was a ballroom, shimmering and disappearing.

Tommy stepped closer, looking from side to side. His dad often told them stories of portals to another dimensions that allowed for fast travel.

He put his hand in the purple substance, pulling it back in surprise as he felt a gentle tickle. The fog stretching across the frame of the portal was denser, similiar to warm water to the touch.

Tommy put his hand into it again and laughed as it touched the swirling mass.

"The world belongs to the brave ones?" He said hesitantly, grabbing the frame of the portal to climb into it. He grinned broadly. "Fuck it."

He closed his eyes and plunged into the purple mist, standing still for a moment.

After that, he felt his stomach turn inside out. An unpleasant feeling like seasickness gripped his whole body for a moment. Then a blast of hot air hit his face.

Tommy opened his eyes and looked around.

Nether could’ve been described in one word - terrifying. Lava flowing down the walls, ending its waterfalls in a huge lake, the red soil covered with ash and the smell of sulfur everywhere - the dimension felt like a real hell.

"I'm a big man." Tommy assured himself, setting his foot carefully on the hot netherrack.

The portal was in the middle of a red forest. The trees were strange - their leaves looked more like the same material that mushrooms were made of. Single lights flickered among their upper branches, strong enough to illuminate the entire surrounding area. The blonde pondered, considering if the stars were made from the same stuff as the lights in the trees, but put very far from the earth.

Dust and sphores floated in the air, and the kid instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve. He touched the bark of the tree with his other hand, watching the pulsating red veins. He jumped back as the wood rose and fell under his fingers. Surprised, he tripped over a protruding root and fell on the red grass, painfully scratching his elbows.

"Fuck!" He cursed as he examined his war wounds. His face turned a disgruntled frown. He frowned, pouted, and exhaled loudly through his nose.

Of course the stupid trees in the stupid Nether were breathing. They couldn't be normal and polite like the trees in the Overworld, they had to be cursed.

"What if they were once people who inhaled the sphores and turned into trees?" He whispered to himself. It sounded absurd, but he couldn't risk it. Tommy liked being a boy, he liked to run, jump and climb wild cows whenever Wilbur’s guard was lowered and he didn’t pay enough attention to what he was doing. He didn't think he would enjoy being a tree.

He put his hand to his face, making sure he was breathing only into it. Apart from the red grass scratching his skin and a few mushrooms and bushes, there was nothing interesting on the ground.

He walked forward, brushing the red dust off himself with his free hand. He glanced toward the portal, making sure not to lose sight of the way back.

His gaze wandered across the landscape. There were funny-looking creatures on the lake of lava, wobbling sideways like an unstable boat - Tommy knew such a wobble because when Wilbur took him fishing the previous summer, he stuck the oar too deep and nearly knocked them over into the water.

He shifted from foot to foot, trying to sway in a manner similar to the creatures, waving his hand cheerfully at them.

Tommy didn't quite know what his plan was. He didn't really have any, but as a big and responsible man, he had to come up with one.

His gaze spanned the feather among the grass. It was black, slightly creased.

The blonde grabbed it, watching it carefully.

His father had wings, black as a November night, enormous so that when he unfolded them, he seemed to create the second nightsky, especially for Tommy, but one that was closer and warmer than the original one - one that the boy would admire every time he was unable to sleep and stared at out of the window, waiting to see familiar wings.

Tommy recognized the feather with pride inside. He had a plan now - he had to bring Phil and bring him to Wilbur to make him feel better.

He nodded, congratulating himself on his intellect. It was hard to find another such intelligent person.

His wonderful adventure, which lasted less than ten minutes, proceeded perfectly until he heard a grunt.

It was loud, like a pig, but harsher, more of a dangerous sound. Tommy didn't have time to think about where the sound came from - the giant hoglin ran towards him. Its tail was lifted high and muscles were tense. It hissed and snorted ominously as it approached the helpless boy. Its white eyes, though without pupils, were fully focused on its new victim.

It hit Tommy, who screamed shrilly, bursting into tears immediately. He kicked the animal in the snout, moving it far enough to escape. His legs shook, unable to support his weight.

The white T-shirt was getting red, and his side was torn with unbelievable pain. He fell, crawling backwards on his scrached forearms. Splinters and dust were sticking into his wounds. He completely forgot about covering his face with his hand.

The hoglin shook its head and snorted a couple of times, walking towards him slowly, as if it sensed that he was hurt.

Suddenly a terrifying screech rose in the air, followed by a series of panicked squeaks. An arrow was stuck in the beast's side.

The animal panicked and decided to flee, and Tommy was left alone, defenseless and doomed to the mercy of the person whose footsteps were approaching him.

A Piglin emerged from behind the trees. Its fur was pink and rusty, and its ears - one of them slightly clipped - twitched uneasily. In its hands - three-fingered, with black fingertips, seemingly resembling hooves - it held a disintegrating crossbow. It wore a leather tunic tied with a rope, to which all sorts of gold and arrows were tied to, all gilded in the glowstone powder.

Tommy held his breath, waiting for the Piglin to notice him and use one of its arrows to finish him off, but the latter, instead of making him its dinner, sighed heavily, looking regretfully after escaping Hoglin.

It raised its ears and listened, then turned to face the boy. The latter twitched as he stepped back. Hot netherrack crawled under his fingernails.

"Easy, big man." He held up his hand, trying to show that he was defenceless. The Piglin crouched down and slowly crept up to him. It put its snout against his hand, sniffing it. Then the creature snorted, shook its head, then put its hand in front of Tommy's face, looking at him expectantly.

The kid blinked a couple of times and twisted his mouth, lifting his upper lip to reveal his teeth. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. The Piglin repeated his gesture, showing its tusks, but it didn't look threatening. More confused and really, really awkward.

"Oh!" Tommy brought his face close to its still extended hand and took an exaggerated breath, so that his companion saw him repeating its gesture.

The Piglin looked pleased. It watched the boy curiously. It began to withdraw its hand as Tommy put his own against it.

They stared at each other in absolute silence. At least until a low groan escaped from Tommy's mouth.

The Piglin sprang to its feet, pressing the boy to the ground and examining his arms and legs carefully. It paused at every rub and scratch, grunting and sniffing them. It examined Tommy's side as well, lifting his T-shirt and grunting in displeasure.

"Are you searching for wounds?” Tommy asked, watching the Piglin in surprise. He hissed in pain as the latter carefully put its hand to his side. "It hurts like hell, don't do that or I'll bite you." He warned it. The creature took little notice of his protests. Instead, it put its snout to his wound, sniffing it, but this time much more carefully.

The Piglin looked indecisive - or so Tommy had told himself as he watched it wag its tail, raise and lower its ears and look around. Then a grunt came out of his new friend's throat. Then it looked at him expectantly, tapping the ground a few times and wrinkling its snout.

Tommy had no idea what it might’ve wanted from him.

He shrugged, hissing again in pain. The heat of the dimension slowly began to bother him. His hair was sticking to his face, glistening with sweat. Red netherrack dust clung to his body.

The Piglin lowered its ears again, then tilted its head back, showing Tommy its throat. The six-year-old really needed an interpreter. The creature evidently expected something from him.

It was close, so he raised a hand and slowly touched the fur on its neck. As soon as he made contact with it, the Piglin flinched and growled, but then relaxed again.

Tommy moved his hand away and looked at the creature curiously. And then he let out an excruciatingly loud scream as it picked him up like a sack of potatoes and began walking forward.

The kid tried to fight - or rather to squirm and tug at the fur and tunic of his kidnapper, but the Piglin did not pay much attention to him, chuffing something under his breath.

Eventually, the blonde felt exhausted and fell limp, looking at the changing terrain of the Nether.

On the other side of the lava lake there were cliffs with blue grass growing over them. Small, flying islands with turquoise lianas and roots dangling from them, adorned with mushrooms, ones that were glowing in the darkness. The trees were strange, similar to those in the red forest, but slightly taller. Tall, slim creatures with purple eyes and sharp claws at their hands passed around them. Tommy looked down, recognizing the Endermen from Phil's numerous tales.

Their dad liked to quote myth that the underground remains of mines and big cities, surface structures such as desert wells and abandoned temples were, in fact, the product of an ancient race, predecessors - perhaps ancestors - of later humans who took their place. The Endermen were supposed to be, in a way, a remnant of the mythical builders.

Tommy found it hard to believe. With stretched limbs, expressionless face and protruding ribs, the monsters were nothing like humans.

The Piglin shook him with a soft grunt. Tommy exhaled loudly and looked away from the blue cliffs.

The terrain they were passing through was devoid of grass and trees. It was like a red desert, with a mass of steep slopes and bluffs.

Finally the Piglin stopped in front of one of the netherrack cliffs and looked around, squealing and pricking his ears. It listened for a moment, set Tommy on the ground, and looked around. Its hand hovered over the crossbow, but when nothing answered its call, it dropped it and walked over to the wall.

It grabbed one of the huge boulders and began to push it, engaging its whole body. Tommy watched it with interest.

The Piglin revealed the entrance to the pit, then returned to Tommy and without much thought, tossed him again over its shoulder as it walked towards the hole.

"Hey! Hey let's talk about it! Sorry if I scared your food away, but I won't be a good replacement! Wilbur says I'm all skin and bones! And I'm claustrophobic! Do you really want to throw a claustrophobic person into this little hell? You are a hopeless kidnapper, human kidnappers would neber treat me like that."

The Piglin huffed under its breath as it moved deeper into the cave.

Tommy closed his mouth, breathing heavily. It was like being on a sinking ship. As sailors rescue themselves gripping the planks with fingers numbing from cold, Tommy felt as if he had stayed on deck, slowly sinking under the icy water. Everything seemed to happen slower, and breathing became impossible.

He had never been on a ship, but he had heard that some people did not even try to save themselves from the abyss of the merciless ocean, or that they drowned silently and unnoticed, too scared to make a sound.

He was lowered onto something soft and his head was above the surface again. He took a few breaths.

He was sitting in a nest made of leathers, furs, and gravel, which was surprisingly comfortable for not very pleasant materials.

The Piglin was kneeling beside him, a strip of leather in its hand. When it saw that Tommy was looking at it, it lowered his ears and exposed its neck again. After a while it lowered its head and looked at Tommy. It pushed a strip of leather under his nose, then made a bandage-like gesture with its free hand.

"Are you dressing me?" The six-year-old asked incredulously. He pointed to the piece of leather, to his wound, then repeated the gesture.

Piglin grunted and swung its tail up and down. Tommy lifted the T-shirt to give it access to the wound and watched with fascination as the creature went to work.

It moved its snout to his side and blew on the bleeding spot, blowing away the dust around it. Then, after carefully examining the torn skin, it used a strip of leather like a bandage.

It looked at its work with obvious satisfaction.

Tommy closed his eyes, patting Piglin on the face.

"Well done, king." He said before the exhaustion won, and he sank into a peaceful sleep, soothed by the rhythmic chuffing of his new acquaintance.

Chapter Text

Being looked after by a Piglin was something definitely unique in itself - Tommy was aware of the stories of how they hunted humans; myths about unjustified aggression at the mere sight of non-Nether creatures and the possibility of distracting them with gold.

Well, Tommy didn't have any gold with him, but his companion didn't look like it was going to put an arrow in his head.

The second day started slowly passing by and the unusual situation he found himself in began to fall into a rather monotonous routine - the Piglin changed his dressings twice a day, squealed with what Tommy recognized as panic whenever its dissatisfied and energetic patient tried to leave the nest and would bring food and pieces of the red tree trunks.

Initially, the blond had no idea what the purpose of the wood was in all this - at least until the Piglin, after several minutes of unsuccessful attempts to communicate, cut and then put a piece of wood to its mouth and, pressing on the still pulsating bark, began to drink the juice flowing from the inside.

Tommy - pretty awkwardly - repeated its movements and made a face of disgust. The juice from inside the wood was bitter, smelled of rotten eggs, and had the aftertaste of charred bread. However, seeing the Piglin lift its ears up and start wagging its tail vigorously, nodding with approval, he continued to drink until the unpleasant feeling of dehydration was forgotten.

The third day was the day Tommy decided to put in more effort in trying to communicate with his new friend - internally he thought about how proud his dad would be if he found out that Tommy had tamed such a wild and unpredictable beast. Perhaps he could lead the creature home to show it to WIlbur - his very own Piglin!

Wilbur, Tommy's biggest concern - was he alright being alone at home? Every time the blond thought about his brother, his eyes went to the black feather he had found a few days earlier.

He might not have been able to bring Phil back, but looking at the Piglin, he had a vague feeling that he had found something much better. After all, his dad always came back, and a Piglin being non-aggressive towards humans was something out of the ordinary.

The Piglin grunted, chuffed, and lifted its right ear up, stamping its foot twice. Tommy turned to him.

"You know what, I thought you needed a name, king. Everyone has a name." He explained. The Piglin cocked its head to the side, its snout wrinkled, and huffed. Tommy folded his arms over his chest and nodded, putting on his very serious expression. He closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows, pouting. "Of course you're helping me, as you should, and you're doing great, so I figured I'd come up with one for you." He announced.

The Piglin's white eyes were fully focused on him, but nothing in its gaze betrayed understanding. Tommy sighed dramatically, the same way Wilbur sighed when he told him tragic stories he had came up with for a bedtime story.

He put his hand to his chest.

"Tommy."

Piglin squealed something. It grimaced, wrinkling its snout and bit its tongue. It looked at the blonde and put its hand on Tommy’s, still resting on his chest.

It chuffed, lifted its right ear up, and stamped twice. Then it started making a strange noise, akin to choking.

Its ears fell back and its tail began to twitch.

"-My" It panted finally, then looked up to meet its young friend's gaze.

The six-year-old stared at it with stars in his eyes. The Piglin, encouraged by his reaction, began to keep trying, apparently struggling with the sound of human language.

"Tommy" It finally said with a specific accent. Its voice was harsh and monotonous.

One word, a simple name, took on an extraordinary meaning. For the child, it has become a symbol of something new, uncertain.

"Woah, holy fuck, I've never heard a Piglin speak before." He whispered. His friend lifted its upper lip, showing him tusks in an imitation of a human smile. Then it pointed at him.

"Tommy." After a moment, it chuffed, lifted its right ear, and stamped twice. Tommy looked at it in awe.

"Bloody hell! Is that a name? Were you calling me something all this time? " He asked with excitement. The Piglin tilted its head and the boy fell back onto the furs and leather, a thorn-stinging feeling of disappointment.

However, he was right; or, at least he insisted on it internally, because the Piglin had been using the sound and two gestures all the time when it seemed to be talking to him or wanted to grab his attention. Just like a parent calling for or trying to scold a child.

"What's your name?" He asked, knowing he was doing it pointlessly. The sound of his voice caught the Piglin's attention as it sat down on the bed, right next to him.

The boy pointed at himself.

"Tommy."

"Tommy." His Piglin confirmed, imitating a smile again. The boy pointed his finger at it.

The Piglin paused, then put its hand to its chest.

It let out a snarl, followed by a movement of its hand, similiar as if it were swinging a sword.

Tommy blinked in confusion. This time it was he who tilted his head to the side, illustrating to the Piglin that he had no idea how to repeat the sound that came out of its throat.

The creature slowly repeated the snarl, this time so that it didn’t come out of the throat, making it visibly quiver, but from the mouth, adjusted to human capacity.

Tommy ineptly repeated the sound and the sword-wave gesture. The Piglin stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing, loudly and so much human-like that Tommy recoiled in surprise.

The Piglin dropped onto its back and began swinging its fist, still squealing in amusement.

Its laughter did not fit in with the landscape of the quiet, gloomy Nether. It sounded booming, like a mountain echo dancing across the slopes of snow-capped mountains. In a sense, it resembled monuments; it sounded as if it belonged to a great conqueror who had just finished conquering another part of the world.

Tommy didn't find out what he had done wrong, but the Piglin - who was starting to giggle again and again- helped him with his pronunciation until he was able to repeat the sound exactly.

There was one problem - Tommy still had no idea how to translate Piglin's name into his language. So, after several unsuccessful attempts to explain to it, that since Tommy had a human name and the phrase the Piglin used in its tongue for him, the Piglin himself should have a human equivalent for its name, Tommy succeeded and started thinking of possible options .

"Henry!" He happily offered, calling the Piglin that for the entire fourth day, until the Piglin lost its patience and left him alone for a few hours, going out into the Nether wasteland to ease its irritation. When it returned and Tommy used the best name in the world again, it shook its head sharply and began picking the ground with its hooves as if it were preparing to chargé at the boy.

Day five was spent as Dave, however that name didn't last long, as even to Piglin it sounded a bit too mediocre - as if it wanted to prove he deserved a better, more epic name, it spent the day showing Tommy its scars and its collection of swords.

"Cyberknife!" Tommy exclaimed on the sixth day. The Piglin looked at him with displeasure. “Well, it's similar to your Piglish name. You know, sword movement and so on. And it sounds cool."

Cyberknife didn't look happy, but Tommy had lost the will to brainstorm any further, so all it had to do was hold its new name with a pride it didn't even try to pretend to feel. The Piglin pouted and wagged its tail with obvious displeasure, but had no verbal objections, which Tommy scored as a victory on his side.

On the seventh day, his friend was pleased to see that a small scar was left after the wound on Tommy’s side. The boy was feeling so much better too, and it looked like it was time for his return to the Overworld.

The Piglin apparently understood that too, as it grabbed his hand and led him out of the cave. Again, they passed flying islands and the lava lake. They had found themselves in the red forest again.

Cyberknife held Tommy's hand all the way and was muttering to itself. Its tail was twitching, as were its ears. It seemed to be listening.

The Nether seemed unnaturally silent and empty. There were no sounds other than the bursting bubbles of lava and the heavy breathing of the two friends. Tommy was panting as Nether's temperature was finally starting to take a toll on him. The Piglin seemed to be breathing heavily for another reason. It looked around nervously, then suddenly changed direction, hiding among the trees.

There was a very distinctive sound in the air, and Tommy's eyes widened in astonishment.

The flap of wings, hitting the air again and again with enormous force, broke the silence. The familiar silhouette of a tiny man swirled through the air, diving between cliffs and rivers of lava.

Tommy broke free from his Piglin’s grip, who began to squeeze his hand with unpleasant force. The Piglin stared at the man, ears back down. It squealed frantically as Tommy stormed out of their hiding place, waving his hands with much joy and excitement.

"Dad! Here!" He exclaimed, bouncing on the spot. The man approached, his black wings hitting the air and blowing it on Tommy's face, ruffling his hair.

"Tommy! Wilbur wrote to me that you were missing! Fortunately I was around, what are you doing here, mate?" He asked, landing on the ground. The boy ran up to him and hugged his legs.

"You won't believe me! You will be so proud! I met a Piglin and we’re friends now! It called me" Tommy showed his name with tremendous enthusiasm "and he helped me recover when that giant Hoglin hit me because I went looking for you, so that Wilbur wouldn't have The Bad Days anymore and-"

"Breathe!" Philza reminded him with amusement. Then he looked around uncertainly. ”A Piglin? Was it a Brute or a Pigman?" He asked. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. Tommy shrugged, not knowing the difference.

“It's big and has tusks and one of them is broken, and cool scars, and it carried me into its cave like a sack of potatoes, but it's really cool, I promise. You’ll like it!" He assured. Phil tightened his hand on the sword’s hilt, ready to draw it. Tommy grabbed and squeezed it. "It won't hurt you! I'll tell it you're my dad and it'll be happy to meet you! I mean, it doesn't understand what I'm saying, but we'll definitely come up with something!"

"Tommy, the Brutes are very dangerous." His father said in a low voice. His wings puffed up. “All Piglins are. If you don't have any gold with you, they won't think twice before getting their crossbow."

“It's not like that! It took care of me and I have no gold!"

Philza's gaze was warm and sympathetic, but in that cruel, sad and full of pity way. As if throwing a rock at a paper boat to sink it, he spoke words that destroyed Tommy's excitement.

"You have golden hair. It's a Piglin, mate. Even if it did help you, it did it because it considered you its own. Who knows what else it could do to you? You're lucky I showed up." He explained in the voice of a patient teacher who rebuked the rebellious student. Tommy shrank, tucking his head between his shoulders and biting his lower lip.

"Well, you don't know it! It helped me because we're friends and it's good! Nobody cares about stupid hair!"

“Tommy, it's instincts. Do you think you could befriend a creeper?"

"No." The boy admitted, thinking of people scarred by the blasts, sometimes losing their limbs or their eyesight from the explosions. "They explode, and that's bad."

"And the zombies?"

Tommy shook his head.

"And a skeleton?"

The boy thought of the bones, being able to move by magic; of the creatures with empty eye sockets, turning to dust when struck hard by a sword and burning with the salutary dawn; about the ribs, on which the remains of tissue still hung, eaten by the larvae.

"No." He whispered, clenching his fists.

“The Piglins are the same. They are just monsters that follow what their nature tells them. They are not hybrids that could defy their instincts. They are dangerous, do you understand?"

Tommy nodded, blushing and clenching his fists more and more. His Piglin was different. There was no instinct or greed in its kindness. It had a name and it called Tommy by his name. It treated him as an equal, dressing his wounds and making sure that he didn’t die in the Nether because of the dimension’s nature.

"You're right." He admitted, looking down. Phil grabbed his hand.

"Time to take you home, mate. You look like you've gone through hell and fought with the Guardians of the gates to the afterlife." He laughed as he led him to the portal.

Tommy looked behind, but there was no sign of Cyberknife.

Phil was smart - Wilbur said it was because of his age. He repeated many times that their father was as old as the mountains and the seas. - but Tommy couldn't honestly agree with him. His Piglin's laughter was sincere and human in the deepest sense of that word - joyful, full of affection. There was something self-conscious about it, something no animal could repeat. How it treated Tommy's wounds and brought him food, showing him how to eat it without wasting anything - it was all too human to be an instinct.

The way home seemed unusually long. Philza dodged the berry bushes, spreading his wings so that he could squeeze Tommy between them, so that they would shield him from the scratching twigs.

Their home hadn't changed a bit in the week that had passed - which for Tommy felt like forever.

Wilbur ran outside to meet them; his hair was disheveled, his bangs were kept from falling over his face by the – tangled into them - glasses. His sweater was dirty and he wore mismatched socks.

He brightened when he saw Tommy. He put his hands forward and crouched down, bracing himself for his little brother's frantic run.

The boy didn't think long about releasing Phil's hand and taking off towards the brunet, who hugged him with all his might, like a flycatcher trapping a careless fly.

"Tommy! Never run away like that again, do you understand? You can't leave me like this." He released Tommy from his grip and put his hands on his shoulders. He looked him straight in the eye. The brown color, usually filled with warmth, reminiscent of the evenings spent on drinking hot chocolate and reading old books with dusty leather covers, seemed a little cooler. “You have to promise me that you'll never disappear like that again. Have you even thought what I would do without you? What if something happened to you? What if I couldn't contact dad and went looking for you myself? What if something happened to me too and you were left alone?"

Tommy pressed his lips into a narrow line to keep his lower lip from trembling. Tears welled up in his eyes. He snuggled into Wilbur’s chest again, hiding his face in his sweater.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted for you to not be sad anymore." He assured.

"You made me even sadder because I was afraid you left me." He explained, and his voice grew warm and forgiving again. Wilbur grinned, finally returning Tommy's hug, doing it slowly and hesitantly, as if he would retreat at the slightest misunderstanding, at the most trivial wrong word or movement. “You have to promise me that you will never leave me again, Toms. I was afraid that something would happen to you and I wouldn't be able to protect you. I just want you to be safe, okay?"

Tommy nodded. In the corner of his eye, he saw their dad, who walked over to them and put his hand on Wilbur's head.

"Well, since I'm here, it would be fitting to eat something." He looked at the youngest son and winked at him. "Tommy will be able to tell you all about his incredible adventure and luck."

Tommy immediately pulled away from Wilbur and began bouncing in place. He stood out from the rest of the family like a snowdrop sprouting from the icy snow. Full of hope and energy, he glanced at Wilbur, looking for warmth and love, and someone whom he could impress with his stubbornness and independence.

"I've made friends with a Piglin!" He announced, revealing to his brother the most important part of the story. Philza sighed pityingly.

Wilbur looked at him, eyes wide. He looked towards the woods and took a step back, grabbing Tommy's hand in a rather painful and unpleasant way.

Their father waved his hand.

“You don't have to worry, mate, we're safe. I found Tommy just in time."

Tommy didn't understand what he meant. "Just in time" didn't sound true - quite the opposite! He found him as soon as his new friend decided to evacuate.

However, Phil looked pleased and proud of himself, and the boy didn't want to spoil that. He could always tell the true story later, without hurting their father's feelings.

The inside of the house looked like a tornado had passed through it. Clothes and notebooks were scattered on the floor, an overturned inkwell was on the table, and there was a dried stain of ink on it. Dishes in the sink were piled high and the food on the shelves was clearly stale.

Wilbur scratched his neck in obvious embarrassment.

"I was worried about Tommy and it didn't cross my mind to clean up." He muttered looking at Phil. A flush crept across his cheeks. "I didn't think you would stay." He replied hesitantly, looking down.

Tommy looked at the greenish bread and wrinkled his nose.

"I won‘t eat it. Oh, Cyberknife brought meat sometimes! It put it between red leaves and ate that all at once. At first it ripped it to pieces to help me, because I think my teeth are too weak to-"

"Cyberknife?" Wilbur asked, confused, forgetting the condition of their apartment for a moment and devoting all his attention to his brother, who smiled broadly.

"My Piglin! Dad says it took care of me because I have golden hair." He said, then walked over to Wilbur and motioned to him to bend down. “But I think it really likes me. Besides, My hair is not gold at all, but yellow." He whispered conspiratorially, then nodded his head confidently.

Philza paid little attention to their conversation as he cleared the dishes.

"I'll have to test you for parasites." Wilbur muttered, looking at Tommy doubtfully.

He glanced at Philza and looked like he wanted to ask something, but eventually changed his mind. He turned to Tommy, who had lost interest in their secret conversation, instead made himself busy picking up the scattered books and flipping through them for pictures.

"Aren't the Piglins like… Dangerous sometimes?" What did it do to you?" Wilbur asked in a whisper. Tommy shrugged and leaned in to him.

"It helped me recover after I ran into a Hoglin." He explained quietly. "But I'm fine now!" He assured when Wilbur rushed to search for wounds.

"Why did you even go to Nether?"

He was met with a shrug again.

"I found a feather and thought that if I found Dad and brought him home, you wouldn't be sad anymore." He finally answered. He squeaked in surprise as Wilbur hugged him again.

"Did you do this for me? Oh, Tommy... It's enough for me that you’re here, okay? When you are with me, I immediately feel better, even if you can't see it." He promissed.

The boy nodded.

Internally, he promised himself that the next time he went to Nether to find his friend, he wouldn't spend so much time there, so that Wilbur wouldn't get sad and lonely.

Philza didn’t pay them attention, busy preparing a warm meal.

Family dinners weren't unusual, after all, every time Phil came home he would prepare something tasty for them, usually from a new recipe he had learned during his travels, but the truth was that they were starting to get rarer.

Philza went out on his adventures more and spent more and more time away from home.

It was ordinary for the Avians – part of their nature. They didn’t become attached to places and preferred to be constantly on the move, without the burden of responsibility. Phil had never thought about it for too long - freedom was second nature to him, and he didn't want to limit it. Fighting instincts, even for hybrids, caused various disorders and problems. He preferred to live without limits, without risking the possibility of living under constant stress and burden, dependent on only one place.

He tried not to pay attention to the fact that with each month they were apart, Wilbur looked less and less like a cheerful boy clutching a poorly crafted guitar, whom he had left alone on his first journey since he had become a father. Initially, his journeys were short - he was too concerned with leaving his flock alone to allow himself a real adventure, discovering the world in the way he was made for.

His memory was faded when exactly was the moment Wilbur stopped running out of the house smiling, only to wave him goodbye and wish him a good trip.

After a while, after crossing that fine line that had previously seemed insignificant and losing the version of Wilbur that admired him immeasurably, he had learned perhaps the most terrible thing for a person who was given wings precisely so that they would always be free.

When he came home, and after a few days announced that he was going to go out into the world again, suddenly Wilbur or - a little later - Tommy began to fall ill. His provisions and swords were gone, or the doors and windows in his bedroom were slammed shut, with no way of leaving the room until Wilbur called the locksmith.

One night he caught his older son putting a spider's eye, cut into pieces, into his plate. Realization hit him like a tsunami wave. Wilbur did it mechanically, without any fear or desperation. His face was alarmingly stoic; cold marble, under the care of the careful hands of the sculptor, paying attention to their every move, not allowing their sculpture to express any emotions.

Phil threw away all the food in their house and stopped announcing when he was about to continue his journey.

He didn’t have the strength and courage in his heart to confront his son. He felt like a coward because it would mean facing his own creation. It was easier to turn around and walk away without saying a word. If he admitted that he had seen what his firstborn was capable of to keep him in place, he might also spoil the fascination and admiration with which Tommy was staring at his brother.

He justified himself internally that it was better to keep it quiet and let the younger one adore his brother, instead of taking it from Wilbur as well. On the days he thought Wilbur might become too attached to Tommy and never let him develop his independence, his shadow seemed darker and more menacing. There was paranoia; about being locked in a cage with golden bars; about spoiling the rest of what he had; about being watched and judged against his choices.

His reflection on days like this seemed older, and sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he was able to see a cruel, mocking smile, as if his very inside was calling him names, laughing at his fears.

Philza was afraid of being dependent on anything more than he was afraid of losing everything he had.

Far from home, it was easy for him to convince himself that his boys were doing well; that they didn't need their father's constant presence, and he was actually doing them a favor by giving them unlimited freedom.

He had not expected one of the crows that had settled in their garden to bring him a letter in which, amidst splashes of ink and wrinkled paper, there was a pleading and despairing cry for help.

Meeting Tommy in the Nether was a fortune. Philza tried not to show the relief he felt at the sight of him. The last thing he needed was to scare him; however, it was important to educate him about the dangers of the another dimension and its inhabitants.

The Brutes were violent and unpredictable and, from Phil's perspective, it was a miracle that Tommy insisted on bonding with one of them. Perhaps the Piglin recognized him as a child and decided to spare him. Perhaps it saw that he was vulnerable and did not want to descend to such a low level as killing a kid. Or perhaps – and as Phil thought most likely - the boy's golden hair had made the creature's instinct care for its gold prevail over its cruel and violent nature.

Philza, smiling, turned to the boys. Wilbur crouched down in front of Tommy, and was watching with a curiosity peculiar only to children as his younger brother made an energetic sword-like swing and frantically explained something to him.

"Hope you fancy a potato gratin!" He exclaimed, immediately catching their attention. Tommy jumped up and started tugging Wilbur's hand towards the kitchen, wrinkling his nose and puffing his cheeks when he was too slow.

"Your cooking is the best! Wilbur burns water for tea, and Cyberknife has been giving me raw meat!"

"You probably shouldn't eat raw meat, mate." He poured the sons their portions, then stopped and stared at Wilbur in disbelief. "How exactly can you burn water?" He asked with undisguised amusement.

Wilbur blushed and grimaced.

"He once left it to boil for so long that the kettle turned black and began to smell funny." Tommy explained kindly.

The boy watched with satisfaction as Wilbur hid his face in his hands. He smiled ominously.

"Aaaand… Wil has a girlfriend!" He announced with childish glee.

"Shut up, Tommy." Wilbur muttered, and the blond lightened up like the lanterns being released on the last night of autumn.

“Oh, he talks about her all the time. Sally this, Sally that. Blah, blah, blah. He had given her flowers recently, and she told him: Mi mi mi, you’re making me turn red - which was not true, Wilbur was a lot redder. Anyway, you would see if she was seriously blushing because she has red hair, so she was lying – and: ah, how nice of you!; and Wilbur said to her: I play guitar, you know? Because you know, Dad, girls like it when boys play the guitar, and- "

Wilbur unceremoniously stuffed his fork and casserole into his brother’s mouth, stifling the flow of words. His ears were as red as poppies in summer.

"Sally, huh?" Phil asked with a soft smile. Wilbur began picking his plate with his fork.

"She often comes to the river and we met several times." He muttered, and his blush became more and more visible.

"Well, I guess that's lovely of you, mate. It's good that you meet new people."

"Well, when Sally visits us, Wilbur has his Bad Days less often." Tommy added, nodding his understanding.

Philza looked at him, then at the brunet, but didn't ask any questions. Instead, he clapped his hands and got up from the table.

"Well, we have a hard day behind us, Tommy needs to get some sleep after his... Unfortunate adventure, and you WIl must have had a stressful week, so you need to rest too."

"You can tell me about the mooses and the giraffes." Tommy said to his brother. Wilbur looked at their father doubtfully, then hesitantly allowed Tommy to drag himself into his bedroom.

Phil looked out the window. Summer was coming.

He thought that he would have to continue his trip soon, before the heat made his journey too difficult during the day.

Chapter Text

Wilbur knew what was to come. He had learnt how to read all, even the tiniest, of Phil's mannerisms when he was about to leave him.

Most of all, he was angry with himself, for naively believing for a moment that Tommy's disappearance would be reason enough for their father to decide to stay.

Unfortunately, trust is a thin thread that is easy to break. Wilbur felt Philza tearing it into shreds anew every time he stared wistfully at the clouds; when his wings puffed to the gusts of wind, simultaneously pointing out to Wilbur that he would never be enough.

The boy - he wasn't even a teenager yet - wanted to throw himself on the ground and start crying. He held back because of Tommy, who somehow still trusted and admired their father. Internally, he was afraid that his brother might wake up one day with wings and leave him. On days like this, the voice in the back of his head; quiet, but still present; whispered that he could always trim his feathers, that it would be painless and that his brother would not even notice if he did it precisely enough.

Wilbur tried to ignore such thoughts, replacing them with anger at Phil; Tommy needed a father and Wilbur was a child, and so he was failing at filling in that role.

He himself knew that he made more mistakes than he wanted, overwhelmed by reality.

Yet something inside, just as terrifying as that soft whisper urging him to keep his brother with him, rejoiced every time Phil returned, relieved. Wilbur hated the fact that the only proven remedy for his episodes was the presence of his father. He was furious that Tommy's presence wasn't enough.

Maybe that's why he was so scared that he wasn't enough for Tommy.

Four days had passed, and the blonde was extremely anxious and was staring longingly towards the forest, so similiar to Phil that Wilbur had to force himself to look away to avoid panic attacks in front of him.

Meanwhile, their father revealed his intentions by his behavior.

He glanced towards the door more and more, as if he were checking that it wasn’t locked.

Wilbur was intelligent. He had learnt already that he had been unable to keep his father in place. He didn’t accept it, but gave up on useless attempts to slow down his departure.

It didn't mean, however, that he didn’t feel almost physical pain when he found Philza in the doorway on the fifth day, wings unfolded.

He folded his arms over his chest and exhaled loudly through clenched teeth.

The avian turned, jolting in surprise. He smiled hesitantly.

"Mate, don't scare people going out for an evening walk like that."

Wilbur narrowed his eyes and looked suspiciously at the bundle in his father's hands. He involuntarily noticed that the floor was cold; he stood on it barefoot, despite the fact that he himself had repeatedly warned Tommy from doing it, scaring him with fanciful diseases and stories about people who lost their legs from walking without shoes on cold surfaces.

"Can't you even stay for him?" He asked. Regret flooded his voice like a waterfall. However, any plea from Wilbur not to be left alone was like a drop falling into an indifferent, inaccessible ocean.

“Tommy is very brave. He won't be sad, I doubt it would make a difference to him. Besides, I will come back. "

"You always come back." Wilbur said resignedly. He sighed heavily, gazing enviously at the black wings, darker than the night sky itself.

A soft voice in the back of his head whispered something about the shears, how there were sharp enough to cut through an entire bone, especially as thin and hollow as those of a bird.

"What if you come back too late?" He asked instead, looking closely at the man.

"Too late? Mate, if you need me, I will come immediately."

"You can't know that." Wilbur's tone took on an accusatory tone. He waved his hand as if pointing to his surroundings. "This is our house. This is where you should be. What if your trip gets longer? How many birthdays do you have to miss to find out that you no longer recognize my face? How long will it be before Tommy stops waiting for you?"

“Wilbur, you are crossing a really fine line. I am your father, don't try to suggest something that is not true."

The boy grimaced. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. Phil's shadow fell on him so that it seemed as if he had wings himself.

"You’ll understand when you’re older." Phil explained blandly.

Wilbur turned without a word, back to his room.

His father watched him for a moment in total silence. He was searching for a boy who was looking forward to his tales of flying islands and dragons. He was beginning to fear that he didn’t exist anymore.

"Are you flying away?"

He looked back, wings raised. Tommy was standing in the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. He yawned without even trying to cover his mouth with his hand, and lazily rubbed his left eye.

“The wind is calling me. I have to go now, before it's too warm." He explained. He crouched down to be about the same height as his younger son. "I'll bring you the coolest gift in the world, how about that?"

Tommy nodded and set his glass down.

Then he pouted.

"Wilbur will be sad to be alone again."

"Well, luckily it's not like that at all, is it? He has you. Wil is a very… Emotional person, so he needs you to take care of him as much as you need him." He hugged the boy, ignoring his sobs. "You're a very big man, aren't you?"

He leaned close to his son’s ear, as if he was about to tell him the greatest secret in the world.

"Big men don't cry, okay? Even if it’s difficult for them, they cannot afford it, because they have to take care of others. Just like you take care of WIlbur." He whispered.

Tommy wiped his tears with his sleeve and nodded.

" I am a big man." He muttered. Phil smiled warmly.

“That's why you don't cry. Because you’re stronger than others. My little fighter."

Tommy chuckled as he cuddled up against Dad once more.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of Wilbur. And if something happens, Cyberknife will help us. You don't have to worry, I won't leave him." He promissed. He stepped back and saluted, like a subordinate soldier awaiting orders from his officer. Philza ruffled his hair with a fond smile.

"I know. Maybe when I come back I will bring you some disks. I've heard of a certain mine where I could find some unique ones."

"And a new guitar for Wil!" Tommy told him, forgetting all of the earlier sorrow. “And chocolate, one from the real jungle. And a cow! And a mega-powerful sword so I can protect Wilbur with it!"

Phil laughed.

"How am I going to carry it all?" He asked with a banter. Tommy shrugged.

"You're big, you can do it." He prompted helpfully.

After Philza sent Tommy to bed, he returned to the garden, smiling at the night sky. He spread his wings and soared into the cold night air, focusing on the feeling of freedom and not looking at the house he left behind.

Tommy had spent another three days on worring about Cyberknife.

So, when he was sure Wilbur wouldn’t pay attention to him; he went to town for the day to meet Sally and carefully informed Tommy that he had to stay at home and not go anywhere; Tommy ran out of the house, earlier collecting what were; at least in his opinion, interesting items.

He took with him some baked potatoes left over from his last dinner with Wilbur, a few strawberries straight from their garden, a notebook and a couple of crayons.

The road to the portal was easy to remember, so it didn't take him long to find it.

As soon as he was in the red forest, he began to call for his friend, imitating his Piglin name.

After a few minutes a familiar head popped out from behind the red grass. Despite the missing pupils, Tommy recognized that Cyberknife was looking around frantically, most likely for possible danger.

The six-year-old waved to him cheerfully, shaking his notebook in the air. He sat down on the red grass, opposite to him, looking with interest at his friend's lair.

The Piglin was sitting in a place covered by rocks and trees, shielding it from the rest of the forest so as not to be in sight. It held a dagger in its hand, which it used to skin the dead Hoglin that was lying in front of them. Tommy grimaced, then growled and swung his hand.

"Tommy." The Piglin said as hello, then held out its hand, the other reaching for Tommy.

The blond grimaced even more at the sight of the dagger left in the Hoglin’s body for the time of their greeting.

He repeated the gesture from their first meeting; He pretended to sniff Cyberknife's hand, then waited for it to repeat his gesture.

"I don't have much time because Wilbur will be worried, but I wanted to visit." Tommy explained, setting out in front of them the things he had brought.

He handed the Piglin a potato, then began gesturing lively, pretending to eat.

"It's for you." He said, pointing to the vegetable, then to the Piglin, then to his mouth.

His friend put its ears back and hesitantly sniffed the gift, then took a careful bite. Tommy rolled his eyes as a result of this dramatic overreaction.

The boy jumped when he heard a loud squeal. The Piglin ate the potato as quickly as if it were inhaling it. Then it walked over to Tommy and started sniffing him.

"Hey!" The boy protested as the Piglin found the bag with the rest of the vegetables hidden behind him, chuffing with satisfaction.

It ate them all at once, wagging its tail vigorously and raising its ears. Its snout twitched in apparent excitement.

“It's nice that you like our cooking. When you live with us, you will eat these things every day." Tommy promised him, then started chuckling as the Piglin put its snout against his cheek and pressed it against him, then tucked its head into his hair.

Tommy didn't know the Piglin language, but the expression of gratitude and delight seemed obvious enough and simply decipherable.

Cyberknife pulled away from him and grasped the dagger, carving a large chunk of meat out of the Hoglin's thigh. It handed it to Tommy, bowing its head and looking at him expectantly.

The blond shrugged and nodded as well, taking the piece of meat and starting to eat. Wilbur would probably call it an exchange of cultures through their traditional dishes, or some other clever way of emphasizing the value of sharing food.

All Tommy thought was to please his friend, while remembering that he would have to show him the wonder of cooked meat. For the amount of fire in Nether, surprisingly little of it was actually used.

When they finished eating, and sharing strawberries - which Piglin liked, but not as much as potatoes - the blond unfolded his notebook and grabbed one of the crayons.

He drew himself, Wilbur, Phil and their house. He looked at his handiwork proudly, then held it under the Piglin's nose.

It grabbed the notebook and tilted its head to the side.

Tommy walked over to it and circled the figures in the drawing, so that they were together in a red ring.

"Family." He said. Cyberknife bowed its head and stared at the picture.

Tommy took his notebook and drew the Piglin in the circle in a way so that it would hold the drawn Tommy's hand.

"Sounder." The Piglin muttered in its tongue, nodding understandingly.

The boy watched it curiously, then repeated the word; he let out a low grunt and put his hand on his chest.

Tommy smiled in satisfaction. Bringing the notebook turned out to be a good idea for the beginning of creating opportunities for fluent communication.

They spent hours like this - Tommy drew things and called them in the human language and the Piglin would repeat them in its. They exchanged information, and Tommy in writing, too - he could proudly boast that he knew the entire alphabet and could spell his name correctly.

Cyberknife was unfamiliar with the Piglin alphabet and writing, so Tommy's attempts to plead with it for an explanation of how to write his name in its alphabet had failed.

Low squeaks began to come from behind the trees. The Piglin took its crossbow from its belt - Tommy inadvertently noticed that it looked a little worse than the last time, and then pointed it forward, squinting its eyes and lifting its ears. Its snout was twitching; Cyberknife gritted its teeth to show its tusks.

Tommy moved closer to his friend, glancing at the skinned Hoglin and the dagger beside it. He picked it up, noting with surprise that it was not as heavy as it looked to be.

The blade was crooked and jagged, but still fit for its purpose.

Two Piglins passed between the trees - one slightly smaller than the boy's friend, hopping after his companion. The second creature was bigger, larger than Cyberknife; it had fully developed tusks protruding well beyond the mouth so that they were visible all the time. It held a leg of a Hoglin, much larger than the one in front of Tommy. The Piglins were completely occupied with each other; the larger of them squealed to the smaller one as it began jumping joyfully over the stones.

Tommy's friend got up and walked out from behind the trees, covering the boy with its body. It growled as it put its ears back, then stamped its hoove and shook its hand in a gesture similiar to stabbing someting with a dagger.

The taller Piglin turned to them and cocked its head to the side. Then it stepped closer, wagging its tail. It studied the scars on Cyberknife's body with interest, then held out its hand with a low grunt.

For Tommy, the gesture looked comforting - it was similiar to Phil’s, when he sometimes tried reaching out to ruffle Tommy’s hair, or pull him towards him for a hug.

The Piglin didn't seem pleased though, and it definitely didn't see the gesture that way. It began to squeal and make a low growl, stamping its hooves nervously and folding its ears completely back.

It didn't move, still obscuring the six-year-old who watched the scene unfolding in front of him with curiosity from the larger Piglin’s view.

The Bigger Piglin removed the two-beaded pendant from its neck and handed it to the enraged Cyberknife, tilting its head back to reveal its throat.

The smaller Piglin didn’t accept the necklace. Instead, he reached and took from behind the leather tunic he was wearing a necklace made of tiny white beads. There were dozens of them, all tightly next to each other, leaving no room for more.

The stranger tilted its head and wrinkled his snout, but didn’t pull back its hand. It stood stubbornly in place, although its tail dropped and stopped moving.

Cyberknife reached for its tusks and, to Tommy's surprise, snapped off one of them without grimacing in pain or reacting in any other way.

The Piglin immediately withdrew its hand, squeezing it into a fist as if to hide the necklace with two beads.

It took a step back and began to growl, then squeaked loudly at its little companion, nodding its head to the side and immediately walking away from the resting place of the two unusual friends.

As soon as they left, and Cyberknife clearly decided it was safe, it sat back down on the ground and resumed browsing the human alphabet.

It lowered its head so low as if it did not want to meet its companion's eyes.

Tommy paid no attention to this. He trotted up to his friend and touched its fangs, noting with surprise that the area he thought was a fracture was fully healed - not frayed or protruding, but filed.

The Piglin slowly gave him the remainder of the tusk, looking away and lowering its ears.

The tip he "snapped off" was actually made of skeleton bone, polished to resemble a tooth. Tommy twirled it for a moment in his fingers, then turned to his companion.

"It's fake!" He informed his friend good-naturedly. The fake tusk had a ring inside it to hold it in place on the real one.

Tommy had never seen a denture before, although on the other hand, he had never encountered a hybrid that had tusks like a Piglin.

He grabbed his notebook and crayons, trying to come up with a picture that could illustrate his question - why did the other Piglin react like this? - but as soon as he looked at his friend, he noticed that it seemed to be perfectly aware of what he wanted to ask, but did not seem to want to answer.

Instead, Tommy drew a necklace with two beads and tilted his head to the side.

The Piglin's ears went up and it looked as if it sighed with relief. Then, it removed a similar necklace with one copper bead from its neck.

Cyberknife grabbed the notebook and flipped through it, pausing at the drawing of Tommy's family.

He pointed at it, then at the necklace.

Tommy frowned as he thought.

"Oh!" He slammed his fist against his open palm, then pointed at the single bead and at the Piglin. "It shows how many people are in your family!" He exclaimed, smiling broadly. The Piglin seemed to understand his implementation. It smiled, then hesitantly showed the boy the other necklace, the one with the mass of beads, and pointed to the Hoglin's body.

Tommy's eyes widened as he felt a sudden rush of excitement.

"A killcount! That's so cool! Oh boy, you are fucking great!" He picked up the jewelry and studied the mass of white beads. "You're like a blade! The blade!" He proclaimed admiring the symbolic display of strength.

The Piglin pricked its ears, frowning. After a moment it opened its eyes wide and put a hand on its chest.

Tommy looked away from the necklace and stared at his friend in surprise.

The Piglin put a hand to the boy's chest.

"Tommy." Then it put it to its, and looked at him expectantly.

"Cyberknife?" Tommy said uncertainly, and the Piglin snorted, disagreeing. It nodded at the beads.

"Blade." It announced, grimacing. "Technoblade."

Chapter Text

Technoblade looked at Tommy expectantly. His ears were raised high and his tail was twitching as if it belonged to a nervous cat.

The boy's eyes widened, and he started staring at him excitedly. The Piglin looked more nervous than ever - and since they'd known each other for over a week, Tommy felt like they'd been friends forever, so it surprised him to see a new emotion on his friend’s face - as if revealing his human name was a vision more terrifying for him than the fact that Tommy had been attacked by Hoglin and ended up pretty hurt.

"That name is so cool!" The boy squealed, bouncing on the spot. "I was close too!" He announced victoriously, waving his hands in the air. He grabbed Techno's hand and pulled it towards him.

The Piglin stared at him with surprise that slowly faded into amusement. He snorted and rested a hand on Tommy's chest, tilting his head back and making a low grunt. Tommy laughed.

"Technoblade. Techno. Techno the blade! That name is great!" He was chanting over and over again. His friend squealed happily, lowering his ears a little and leaning forward.

He put his head on Tommy's shoulder, pressing his snout against his neck. He chuffed contentedly as he relaxed against Tommy's warm body.

The boy laughed, resting his chin on the Piglin's forehead. He closed his eyes and began humming, trying to imitate Techno’s grunts in his own human way.

His friend snuggled into him even more, tickling him with his fur. His every move, however, was careful and clearly thought out, so as not to catch his tusks against Tommy's skin. He purred, lifted his right ear so that it tickled the blonde's cheek and swung his leg twice. He was sitting on the ground so he didn't manage to stomp, but Tommy quickly recognized the gesture - his Piglin name.

Technoblade put his full weight on Tommy, almost knocking him to the ground. All previous nervousness vanished amid the boy's laughter and the happy grunts from the Piglin's throat.

Finally, Tommy carefully moved away from his friend. He was starting to feel tired, and he knew he didn't have long before Wilbur came home and began to panic.

Techno tilted his head to the side and lowered his ears.

"Sorry, Technoblade, but my brother will be worried." The boy explained kindly. He pointed to the drawing of Wilbur. "Brother. Wilbur. I have to look after him, you know? I promised my dad I would take care of him."

The Piglin took a crayon and the notebook. He drew three Piglins, each one different.

The first of them was tiny, much smaller than the others - Tommy involuntarily thought that, compared to the next two drawings, it seemed to be as shorter than them as Techno was than the Piglin that had passed them a few minutes earlier.

The second figure was holding a crossbow and what appeared to be an awkwardly sketched Hoglin's leg.

The largest of the Piglins held a golden ax in its hand. It had large tusks, a black tunic, and a lot of lines that must have symbolized the scars.

Tommy tilted his head to the side while Techno grabbed his hand and guided it towards the drawing, motioning for him to touch it.

The boy ran a finger over the smallest Piglin. Techno chuffed and lifted his right ear. It was the same gesture he used for Tommy, except for the double stamp.

The six-year-old pointed to the other Piglin. Techno wrinkled hissnout and grunted loudly.

On the last drawing, he straightened, flexing his muscles, and struck his chest with his fist.

Tommy looked surprised at the pictures. He frowned, glancing up every now and then to peer at his friend.

Technoblade pointed to the drawing of the baby Piglin, then placed his hand on Tommy's head.

The boy thought hard, feeling as if he was solving the most important puzzle in the world. He thought of the little Piglin, not much smaller than Techno, following the hunter who was offering Techno it’s necklace.

His eyes widened.

"You’re calling me a baby!" He screamed, pointing his finger at him. His friend did not seem too worried by his accusing tone. Instead of reacting, he pointed to the image of the largest Piglin and then to himself.

Tommy frowned.

Techno lowered his ears and picked up the notebook again. After a few minutes of sketching, he handed it over to Tommy.

The pictures showed some of the activities the Piglins did. Medium-sized ones held clothes, weapons, food or gold in their hands. The little ones lay on the ground or followed the adults, helping them by carrying small items, such as arrows.

The largest Piglins were depicted as warriors. Techno drew them during combat scenes with caricatured drawn enemies.

Techno pointed at the big Piglin again, straightening up, tensing his muscles and hitting his chest. He put his hand to his chest.

"Oh! Is that like… A protector?" Tommy asked, cocking his head to the side. He got up and began to grunt, pretending to be pulling something heavy. Then he hid behind Techno, who was watching him curiously.

Eventually it dawned on Piglin that the boy was playing out their encounter with the stranger Piglins.

"You protected me. So these are the Piglins who protect others?" He asked his friend, as the latter looked at him with something like understanding.

"Protector." Techno agreed, twitching his ears.

"A bit like an older brother." Tommy laughed. Techno tilted his head as he flipped through his notebook. He pointed at Wilbur.

"Brother." He said looking at Tommy. Then he pointed at himself. "Protector."

The boy grinned as he felt an unbridled joy fill him.

"So you’re my Protector then?" He asked bitterly. Techno wrinkled his snout, not answering. Well, one day of study couldn't break all the barriers.

Tommy brushed the red dust off his pants and stood up, sticking his hand out in front of him. Technoblade put his own against it, looking at him regretfully.

"Well, I really have to go. I‘ll be back soon, I promise."

He moved towards the portal, glancing back every now and then towards Techno. The Piglin sat on the red grass, his gaze fixed on Tommy’s receding silhouette.

The boy was looking forward to their next meeting.

The days passed slowly into weeks and then months.

Tommy sneaked out of the house whenever possible, bringing Techno little things from the Overworld. As a repay, the Piglin would give him some trinkets, and sometimes, when their language lessons became too frustrating and exhausting, he would take him for walks in the hell realm, showing him all sorts of places.

Tommy noticed pretty quickly that Techno used to avoid the other Piglins. He wasn't afraid of fighting - it was quite evident, with how quickly he reacted when there was a skeleton or a stray Hoglin nearby.

But the Piglins, he avoided like fire.

He showed Tommy the Blue Forest, plucking vines from the trees and showing the boy how to eat them. He also squealed nervously every time Tommy looked at Enderman, hiding him from the creatures with his whole body and covering the boy's eyes with his hands.

There wasn't grass like in the Red Forest, but moss. It was soft and pleasant to the touch, a bit fluffy. It reminded Tommy of the cotton balls that could sometimes be bought at the market to stuff pillows with.

The trees, like those in the Red Forest, pulsed as if they were breathing. Techno, with the help of drawings and many energetic gestures and words he had learned earlier, tried to explain to Tommy various myths about his dimension.

Tommy himself was trying to expand his knowledge by finding all sorts of books about the hellish wasteland. Wilbur seemed to turn a blind eye at his new fascination, sometimes helping him decode more difficult words.

According to the Piglin culture, the Nether was a living being. There were many versions of what exactly this was supposed to mean. Some believed that the dimension itself was an enormous organism. Others, those more fascinated by the fantastic aspect of mythology, said that it was the inside of the body of a sleeping goddess, that’s why there was no sky there, and everything had a bloody red colour.

Techno did not admit which version he believed was the real one.

Tommy began to let go of his disgust and fear as he watched the breathing trees with childish fascination. All of the Nether seemed to be breathing.

It was quiet, but at times he could hear a hum, despite the absence of even the slightest gust of wind.

The Nether seemed alive and empty at the same time.

Technoblade, with the care peculiar only to caretakers, helped Tommy climb the flying islands using the dangling vines and roots, encouraging him to climb up despite the lakes of lava beneath them.

He showed him the Soul Sand Valley, filled with dark sand that cried and groaned under their feet, and with each step it seemed to pulsate under Tommy's boots, releasing blue ribbons of light, similiar to northern lights.

Wilbur had read to him about the various legends of the unusual sand that slowed down any mortal; Nether was supposed to devour the lives of the creatures that inhabited him. After their death, their souls were to soak into the sand, trapping them in it with no way out.

Tommy considered himself a brave person, but asked Techno to avoid these valleys, not wanting to take any chances.

Anyway, the remnants of giant skeletons resting in fragments among the dunes were proof enough for a six-year-old that soul sand had something cursed about it.

It was Tommy's seventh birthday when he desperately tried to explain the concept of it to his friend.

Techno just tilted his head and looked with interest at the boy who was faking blowing the candles out. A notebook full of drawings lay in front of them, open at a page filled with Tommy's sketches of parties and human traditions of celebrating the pass of another year of their lives.

One of the things Tommy found out relatively quickly was that, to his surprise, Techno could count, and that Piglin counting system was almost identical to the human's. Same numbers, just different names.

The creatures of the Nether counted their time a bit differently. Tommy used years, like any creature in the Overworld, explaining Techno with much pride that he was about to turn seven.

Techno was at the age of twenty-one lava laps, expected to finish twenty-two around the Overworld’s summer.

They both didn't really know how to translate their counters to the other one, so they agreed on their measures.

Phil didn't visit Tommy on his birthday, but sent the letter and one of the discs he told him about. Mellohi quickly became one of the boy’s most precious possessions.

Wilbur invited Sally to his birthday party, and she gave him a red bandana as a gift. Wilbur brought the cake and arranged for him an entire evening of fun and games, letting him eat as many sweets as he could.

Tommy didn't return to Technoblade until two days later, when his brother told him that he had to go to the market for a couple of hours to use some of the money Phil had sent them.

The Piglin was waiting for him in the stiff red grass, hands clasped behind his back. Tommy held out his hand to let him sniff it and waited for Technoblade to do the same.

His friend held out an open hand, presenting in front of him a necklace with two beads, red and pink, laying on his palm.

They were wooden, one made of bark and the other made of wood. Tommy paused, staring at the gift in surprise.

Techno bowed his head and didn’t meet his eyes. His tail was dangling between his legs and his ears were flat down.

The boy picked up the necklace, examining it carefully. The beads were hung on a gold chain. He looked at Techno, noting with surprise that the single bead on his necklace had been joined by another.

He also swapped the copper bead for a wooden one, identical to the one Tommy had gotten.

The boy put it around his neck and grabbed Techno's hand, placing it on his head. The Piglin looked up, staring uncertainly into his blue eyes. Then he strode forward, squeezing him tightly and hugging him against his chest. He squealed, wagging his tail vigorously and treading his feet.

This one gesture seemed to change a lot more than Tommy had expected, not that he was about to complain.

Technoblade has become much more protective, following him like a chick, rushing to help him whenever he stumbled, checking anxiously for any cuts, sticking strips of leather in front of his nose, and later, when Tommy gave him them as a gift, bandages.

Every time Tommy came to the Nether, a hot meal was waiting for him - for the summer lava lap, Tommy gave Techno a crown, after reading that the Piglins considered handing them over the processed gold items as putting themselves in their care; and a culinary book with pictures along with instructions - not only it helped Techno to pick up the language faster, but also became his holy book.

The Piglin made it his life's goal to prepare every possible potato dish, and if they ran out, invent new ones.

Tommy felt safe in the Nether, especially knowing that Techno used to be a few steps away, always keeping a watchful eye on him.

The next months slowly passed. Tommy got a golden apple for his birthday, tasting it for the very first time in his life and screeching with delight as he felt a wave of magic flow through his body.

He was given another disc, Cat, this time handed over by his father himself, who decided to visit them for a few days. Tommy proudly told him about his adventures with Wilbur, that his older brother had taught him to write and read perfectly well, that he wrote new songs even though he refused to play them, that Sally came to visit them often, sometimes going for walks with Wilbur, sometimes with Tommy, and sometimes with both of them.

Tommy also spent the entire next evening at Wilbur's side, when Wilbur started drowning in the Bad Days again, after Phil explained that he had to leave soon. The brunet's gaze was cold and sharp.

Tommy lay down beside him, cuddling against his back as he used to do with his Piglin friend.

Technoblade hadn't seen him for a week then, and when they saw each other again, he looked at him from all sides, sniffing his skin as if looking for even the tiniest trace of blood.

Tommy didn't tell anyone about his encounters with Techno. Of course he was going to introduce him to his family, after all, he was part of Technoblade’s sounder, and after meeting Wilbur and Phil he was sure that the Piglin would invite them to join in as well, but there was something about Wilbur's nervous looks and the way his hands twitched as Tommy recalled the day he met Techno, something about Philza's apparent dislike of the Brutes, claiming they were merely mindless animals guided by instinct, that made Tommy reluctant to do so.

He preferred to wait until Techno was able to communicate fluently with any human, not just Tommy, who could understand his words because he had learned the Piglin language.

Shortly after his ninth birthday, Tommy found himself in a dire situation. The red forest was same as usual, but Technoblade was not around and there was an unpleasant smell of gunpowder in the air. Two Ghasts circled in the sky above the treetops, making grunts similiar to the crying of human babies.

Tommy clung to the tree, trying to get out of sight. He wandered deeper into the forest, looking for a good place for a temporary shelter.

Suddenly, there was a high-pitched squeal, followed by the sound of an explosion. A Hoglin jumped back from the missile, screeching in horror as it blindly ran ahead. Ghast opened its red eyes and fired again into the ground.

A piece of a rock and a tree trunk hit the animal, injuring its leg. Tommy took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air to the limit.

"Hey, you fucking bag of flying shit! You look like a possessed pillowcase! Maybe you should look for something better to do!" He screamed, drawing the monster's attention to himself.

The Ghast couldn't understand the insults, but it could clearly pay attention to the sudden noise. It turned to the boy, who cursed loudly, bouncing sideways to miss the fireball.

Sally, the lovely girl with short red hair, curly and incredibly soft, could swear like an old sailor, impressing Tommy tremendously and expanding his vocabulary.

The Curse-string he extracted from himself was to be envied.

Suddenly, an arrow flew out of the cliffs, hitting the eye of the flying creature. It fell to the ground with a bang. Its white surface began to glow and then turn to ash.

Technoblade popped out of between the rocks, facing Tommy. He chuffed, lifted his ear and stamped twice, then snorted loudly, lowered his ears back and wrinkled his snout.

"How do?" Tommy asked, smiling gallantly, and the Piglin slapped him on the back of the head with an open palm. Tommy bowed in remorse, though he was under the impression that Technoblade saw his pugnacious smile and performed the Piglin equivalent of rolling his eyes. "I'm glad to see you too, Blade."

Techno held out his hand, presenting it for Tommy to sniff. After repeating the gesture, he nodded, returning to the neutral position.

"What were you doing?" He asked in a monotonne voice, twitching his left ear while doing so. Tommy looked at him shyly.

The question Techno was asking was easy to understand, despite it being said in the simplest way possible. "Why would you do something so dangerous and stupid?" or "What is going on in your emoty head?" would be some perfect interpretations of his words.

"He was shooting at a Hoglin, and they don't usually attack them!" Tommy excused, gaining an irritated glare in response. "Look, Wilbur says violence should always be the last option, and since this Hoglin didn't do anything, I figured I could help it."

"I don't like Wilbur."

"Of course you don't like him." Tommy rolled his eyes and laughed as Technoblade wrinkled his snout and narrowed his eyes, baring his tusks. "You're rivals and he doesn't even know it."

Technoblade did not see Wilbur as a rival, more as an unpleasant obstacle which unfortunately was a necessity for Tommy to achieve complete happiness. He was the reason why the blonde always returned to the Overworld without any hesitation.

Most importantly, Wilbur was not a member of their sounder.

Techno didn’t understand the concept of the word brother. He knew what the family was. Of course he understood that human hierarchies were governed by their own laws, which is none, but the word brother had to be one with a negative meaning.

From Techno’s perspective, from what he had picked up from Tommy's numerous stories, Wilbur was a sounder-destroyer.

Of course, the boy praised him, delighting him like a young runt would gold, but the Piglin realized that something deep within Tommy's native sounder - family - was wrong.

Wilbur looked after him, but not always. Sometimes he made his life difficult, sometimes he refused to talk to him. Tommy referred to his behavior as the Bad Days, whatever that meant, but Techno saw it only as a lack of responsibility.

Perhaps his reluctance was due to the fact that Tommy, despite being a piglet himself, had to offer some of his energy and time to look after his brother.

Techno quickly realized that the word brother must have meant someone needy, incapable of independent functioning and burdening the sounder by harming its other members.

"I think if you had met him, you would have liked him for sure." Tommy continued, pointing to the injured Hoglin. “You know, Wilbur is pretty cool. Not as cool as you, though."

Techno chuffed with satisfaction.

“He recently told me that I would start growing up in a few years. Which is stupid because I'm already a big man. But he said my voice would start to change. Maybe it will get as deep as yours!"

The Piglin narrowed one eye and waved his hand in front of his face.

"Hey, what do you mean you doubt it!" Tommy scoffed at him accusingly. “I will have the deepest voice in the world. I will sound so masculine that I will have all the wives in the world."

"The Hoglin." Techno muttered, seemingly ignoring his statement, though the way his tail wagged betrayed his amusement.

Tommy paused in front of the beast, letting Techno cover him with his arm while his other hand reached for the dagger.

He approached, gesturing for Tommy to stay where he was.

The beast was panting heavily, staring at them with glazed white eyes.

"He's a little young." Techno informed, nodding gently. Tommy studied the animal with interest.

It was injured, his hind legs limp on the red ground, twitching. There was a deep scar on its side, and a piece of wood was embedded in it under the skin.

Tommy grabbed Techno's hand, pulling him towards him.

"This must be that huge beast that attacked me when we met!" He said nervously. The Piglin tilted his head to follow the boy's gaze.

"You mean that little Hoglin from the way back?"

"Little? It was huge. See how big it is?"

Technoblade made a series of gestures and grunts. Tommy recognized his name and the word "tiny."

“You can't seriously tell me it was a baby back then. It was bigger than me. Almost as big as you!"

"It seemed. You were younger." Techno thought about the right words. “When they have six lava laps, they start to grow a lot. It must be nine. When it hurt you, it could have been three."

His ears twitched and he turned to Tommy.

“Bastions teach how to recognize their age. When they have seven or eight lava laps they yield the best meat. You can recognize by-" He grabbed a strand of Tommy's hair, tugging it gently, then pointed to the Hoglin, whose back was covered with stiff black hair.

Tommy thought about it.

"If it’s nine laps now, and I am nine years old, and it had three laps when I was six-" He began to think, then shook his head. "Whatever, we have to help it!"

Technoblade shook his head and began to grow a low growl from his throat. Tommy sighed heavily.

“Come on, if it wasn't for it, we wouldn't have met. Please?" Tommy squealed and tilted his head forward, exposing his neck.

The Piglin grimaced and stopped wagging his tail, but succumbed and approached the wounded beast.

The Hoglin squealed in horror as he reached out to touch its wound, then began to cry terribly, screeching like a newborn baby. It struggled, but Technoblade managed to press it to the ground. Tommy quickly joined the rescue, holding the animal's leg and helping the Piglin immobilize it.

Techno wrapped a strip of the leather around the wound, tying it tightly. He looked warningly at Tommy as the boy opened his mouth and raised his hands to protest and order him to use bandages.

Under Techno’s stare, he closed his mouth and frowned, letting him go back to work.

The Piglin took the fire-dried leaves of a blue liana from behind his belt. He once explained to Tommy that they had an analgesic effect and were used by Piglins during illness.

He stuck some of the leaves into Hoglin's mouth, making sure it swallowed them. After a few seconds, the animal relaxed, breathing deeply and ceasing violent thrashing.

Technoblade moved away from it, grabbing Tommy by the T-shirt and pulling him. He stared distrustfully at the Hoglin, who lowered its ears and squealed.

"Ah, it likes us!" Tommy announced, eyeing the beast in awe. Techno pulled him closer to him, making nervous squeals.

The boy put his forehead lightly against his back, trying to calm him down.

"I'm not going to pet it." He said dissatisfiedly. The Piglin took a few steps back, making sure Tommy did the same. "Shouldn't we hide it?"

"No." Techno made two gestures like if he was swinging a sword. He can handle it.

"I hope it’ll be alive and well."

“Well yes. As dinner." Techno said, tucking the dagger back in his belt and finally turning his back to the Hoglin. He offered Tommy his hand, and the boy grasped it without thinking, letting him guide them back to their normal place. "But hunting should be a fair fight." Technoblade explained in his language.

Tommy nodded, answering in the same language.

"Just so you know, I’m naming it Nutpig."

Techno groaned.

His friend had explained to him once that the Piglins saw hunting as a duel between two vital forces that had to stand on an equal footing.

Said  "equal" or "fair fight" only required that both opponents should be healthy. The difference in their weight, height, armament or experience didn’t matter. The fight didn’t take place only when one of the opponents was clearly injured and they didn’t had a chance to even try to defend their life.

The only exceptions to this rule were the Brutes; the Protectors - their task was to ensure the safety of others, so they attacked everything, regardless of the situation - and cases of strangers entering the Bastion.

To invade a place belonging to other Piglins was an exemption from the rule of neutrality. Violating their grounds was punishable by death, Techno explained to Tommy when he asked if they could see the Bastion up close.

Tommy had a feeling that Techno was not following these rules - attacking other creatures, being filled with natural hostility and resentment. He was curious, and this seemed to be a trait that was viewed as a fatal flaw in his culture.

It was probably for this reason that he was alone and didn’t have a sounder except for Tommy.

If Technoblade was a Brute,het was a truly unique case.

Tommy squeezed his hand tighter.

"Can you not kill it even if it is a fair fight?" He asked in Piglin tongue, muttering timidly and squealing.

Techno looked at him, his face seemed to soften.

He tapped his foot harder as he walked, giving him a sign of agreement.

The boy grinned broadly.

Chapter Text

Cuckoos abandoned their young, tossing them into the nests of other birds. The chicks were brutal and ruthless, wiping out their companions without their knowledge, without really realizing what was wrong about that. They needed more attention and food. They were young, unaware that they were hurting their weaker siblings, sometimes simply pushing them out of the nest. Nature in its ruthlessness gave them the survival instinct consisting of the exploitation of others.

Wilbur seemed to be a cuckoo's egg in a rowan's nest for as long as he could remember. Philza left him at the first opportunity, explaining his absence with instincts and the calling of the wind, urging him to leave the nest - the nest that was completely alien to him in his eyes.

Wilbur didn't expect wings to grow out of his back one day, tearing the skin as it came out from beneath it, creating a bloody masterpiece dripping with blood and ripped muscles, a perfect piece of art.

As a child, he hoped the hybrid part of his being would help him understand his father's instincts. He searched for an answer as to why his father would choose to go, leaving him alone.

However, when Tommy showed up, he quickly realized that their father was just like that. Regardless of his reasoning, the magic in his blood and the call of adventure were not responsible for wanting to leave their home. Despite the wings on his back, he was human, and people had their weaknesses.

Wilbur waited the longest for him to look at his brother in panic, feeling an urgent need to run away, abandon him and plunge into his own adventures.

As Tommy grasped his little hands against his fingers, trying to clumsily attack him with his toothless gums, Wilbur realized that he could never be more different than his father.

The baby's blue eyes looked at him with absolute confidence, like a cloudless sky on a July afternoon; full of sun, inexperienced with clouds and rain. Bright and lively, warmer than the sunshine alone.

One look in Tommy's eyes was enough for Wilbur to swear to him that he would always be by his side, that he would be as supportive as Phil had never been able to be for him.

The promises of six-year-old children have always been one of the most powerful and weakest of all - their paradoxical beauty visible to all from the very beginning of their existence.

The words of the children, the oaths and assurances they made to others, often depreciated over time, often started becoming another series of empty words. But some of them seemed to go on against all odds.

Promises always had one same thing about them - they would change and develop over time. Their basis, however, seemed to be the same as on the day they were made.

Wilbur was a support for Tommy that Phil wouldn't be for him. But that didn't mean he wasn't hurting him or making mistakes.

The six-year-old him, while he was saying his promise, meant protecting him from all evil and being at his side all the time. The fifteen-year-old him, on the other hand, finally realized that none of these things could be completely fulfilled, unlike the way he had intended to do as a child.

Tommy would occasionally leave the house in the morning hours, telling his brother clumsily constructed lies. He became fascinated with Nether more than ever.

His Tommy, the Tommy he'd raised on his own for nine years, the boy who would call Phil his dad, even though he didn't deserve that title, was only interested in learning about hybrids, about wings, and nothing else.

Magic has never been of any interest to him, much less other creatures than those of the Overworld.

Something changed after he disappeared in the Nether for a few days at the age of six. And it was a change that made the voice in the back of Wilbur's head whisper louder and louder, giving him answers to questions that tormented him.

The teenager hated himself for not being able to bring himself out of the bed on the Bad Days. His mind seemed to scream at his body, yelling and begging desperately for an option other than a reluctant grunt or a shrug.

Tommy stopped taking care of him on those days since he met that damn Piglin. It was clear and obvious to Wilbur that his younger brother was still visiting it, and he did so discreetly or at such a time that Wilbur was unable to react and forbid it.

To his reluctance, he also noticed that Cyberknife - a stupid name that matched a stupid animal - was clearly looking after Tommy.

The boy stopped talking about it, but he wasn't as secretive as he thought about hiding golden gifts.

After finding a pile of gold earrings at the bottom of the vase, Wilbur wanted to scream - and he may have done so - cursing that damned Piglin for buying his naive brother's trust in such a cheap way.

But interrupting their visits could have resulted in something even worse - Tommy could, in good faith, inform the Piglin that their relationship had ended, and it could kidnap him and hide him somewhere in its Bastion. Or, Wilbur would simply forbid Tommy from visiting it without saying goodbye, and the beast itself would track down their house and tear Wilbur to shreds for taking what it felt was its own.

To test how the Piglin might approach meeting him, Wilbur once added an extra bead to Tommy's necklace, one made from his old guitar pick. Tommy didn't notice the extra bead, but the Piglin had to, because when Tommy got home, he irritatedly mumbled something about stupid Techno and how he had "accidentally" ripped his necklace off.

When Wilbur asked him what exactly happened to his necklace, Tommy just asked "What necklace?" and fled to his room.

The next day it was back, on a new gold chain with a clasp that only a creature with hooved hands could open, too heavy and too tight for human fingernails.

The number of beads had returned to two.

Wilbur never tried to think of meeting Cybreknife again.

"You look constipated." Sally told him helpfully as she sat down on the red blanket they had spread out on the grass.

Wilbur stared at the cuckoo wrestling with the smaller of the chicks in the nest.

"Are you having one of your moods again?" She asked with mock impatience. Her red hair was tied back with a butterfly-like clasp. She had a yellow hat with a green ribbon on her head.

Her dress was messed up by the wind that hitting them with a gentle breeze. The stream in front of them was humming quietly.

"It's not having a mood, it's analyzing the situation very seriously."

"The situation being...?"

"I hate that Piglin." He said grimacing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I am under the unmistakable impression that Tommy took the crown Philza had brought from his travels and gave it to it as some kind of sacrifice."

Sally smirked and prodded his shoulder.

"I think you are a little prejudiced. Although no, I'd rather use the word jealous, it's more fitting."

"Jealous? Of what? Some Nether ham?"

“Of the fact that Tommy apparently enjoys spending time with this Nether ham. You think this Piglin sees him as its brother? That would be fucking awesome."

"We have a different opinion on what awesome means." Wilbur smiled wryly and then pursed his lips. "Yours, for example, is wrong."

"You are extremely lucky that my mother forbade me to carry a saber, otherwise you would have it deep in your intestines."

"How do you know I wouldn't beat you? Sally, let me pick your brain, do you think you would have a chance against the son of a fearless warrior?"

The girl pretended to reflect. She rested her chin on her thumb and placed her index finger on her lips, tapping it.

"Well, maybe not with him, but with an absolute pussy-"

"No! You can't talk like that, Tommy later repeats that!"

“Because he has some good taste. He knows where to get an example from. You should be proud." She prodded him again, this time letting her elbow land between his ribs.

Wilbur grunted, but instead of arguing, he rolled his eyes.

"You are right, oh lady of the seas and the queen of pirates, what am I but a worm crawling on the ground beneath you, thinking that I could face your light?"

Sally laughed.

The afternoons they spent together were some of the most enjoyable - even if the teen cursed as if her own life depended on it. Her presence was one of the permanent, unchanging things in Wilbur's life that allowed him to push aside the voice in the back of his head, the venom seeping into his ears that seemed to be absorbing into his mind, whispering that she would leave him too, after all, she always wanted to travel.

"Well, Phil. He wasn't there for Tommy's birthday party. Which absolutely fucking sucks. How is he holding up?"

“You underestimate that goddamn gremlin. If you think anything will change his mind about Phil, then you are wrong. He would have to kill me for Tommy to stop seeing him as a hero. Although even then he would probably refer to him as the greatest of men."

"Sometimes I feel like grabbing your father, plucking his feathers and making a broth out of him."

"I'm pretty sure it would be called cannibalism and that most cultures condemn it."

Sally rolled her eyes.

Wilbur straightened his sweater and straightened the collar of his shirt. From the cuckoo nest there was a panicked squeal of the smaller chicks.

“If I had the opportunity, I would do anything to get rid of his wings, so that he could never fly again. Maybe then, if he had no other option, he would have been forced to stay. At least for Tommy."

Sally looked at him with a puzzling expression. She frowned. Her fingers focused on nibbling at the thread sticking out of the blanket.

Finally she nodded understandingly.

"Honestly? I don't think it would change anything. I think all it would do would be hurting Tommy."

"Because I would hurt his hero?" Wilbur snorted. Sally put her hand on his and looked him straight in the eye.

"Because he would be afraid to see you lose yourself."

Wilbur said nothing to that.

The next months passed, and November began. The days were extremely short and the nights cold and unforgiving.

Wilbur noted with concern that monsters appeared more and more frequently in the forest. Sometimes, on his worse days, the Phantoms hovered over their house, screeching and scratching at his windows, trying to smash through the glass into his room.

Tommy was a kid, but he knew about the monsters. He wasn't stupid.

One night, as Wilbur was again trying to ward off his insomnia by all means known to him, the boy stood in the doorway of his room with his duvet in one hand and a minimum of three pillows in the other. He dragged them across the floor, stumbling over the pillowcase of one of them.

Wilbur turned to face him and held out his hands.

Tommy didn't need a bigger invitation. He jumped into his brother's arms, first spreading the pillows he had brought and covering him up to his ears with his duvet.

Wilbur snuggled into him, breathing heavily.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Tommy asked, looking at him with his blue eyes. The teenager breathed a sigh of relief as he relaxed, despite the screams of the Phantoms as they pounded off the wall.

"No, I just couldn't sleep."

"Apparently, when you stay awake for too long, you can start seeing things." Wilbur rolled his eyes, for which his brother kicked him in the stomach with his knee.

"I know, I taught you that myself, idiot." The brunet muttered, pulling the boy closer to him and hugging him as if he were a teddy bear. Tommy grunted.

"You're fat, you're suffocating me." He complained, squirming in his older brother's embrace.

Wilbur hummed under his breath as he persisted.

“Now I cannot let you go, not when you have resolved to offend me so deeply. I was so sure you came to aid me in this trying times and you hurt me instead. How could you do this to me?"

"Fuck you." Tommy muttered. Eventually he managed to get comfy, so he hugged Wilbur back, hiding his face in his chest.

They lay silent for a moment until the teenager flinched at another of the monsters' screams.

"Do you hear them?" Tommy asked softly.

Wilbur nodded and pulled him closer.

"Only two."

"Two too many." Tommy rolled over and pulled the covers down over their ears. "Is that better?"

Wilbur forced himself to relax, trying to ignore the hisses and screeches outside the window.

"Yes, thank you."

"You wouldn't have this problem if you weren't such a pus-"

"I ASKED SALLY TO NOT TEACH YOU THAT WORD!" Wilbur groaned exhaustedly, smiling under his breath as Tommy started to giggle.

The blond tapped his finger on his brother's ribs.

"Then start sleeping like a normal person." He muttered.

Phantoms were distinctive beings - only visible and audible to those who were persecuted by them. Before they were documented and classified, it was believed that they were a collective hallucination experienced by exhausted individuals. The suggestion of a monster stalking sleep-deprived people seemed to have a placebo effect, and more and more testimonies of their existence were starting to appear.

Eventually, upon deeper examination of their victims, it was found that they didn't die of exhaustion as previously believed, but were bitten to death.

Tommy put his hand over Wilbur's ear.

"Go to sleep, if anything happens, I will protect you."

“It should probably work the other way around. I should be the one protecting you."

"Then we'll protect each other, stop being fucking annoying." Tommy pointed at him with a murderous glare. Wilbur laughed and closed his eyes. The sleep came extremely fast.

Before he drifted away into the embrace of Morpheus, he thought about the cuckoo's nest and the chick destroying the smaller ones.

Chapter Text

Tommy liked hanging out with Techno. The Piglin made him feel safe and appreciated. Even though his friend had apparently realized pretty quickly that Tommy was a child, it never seemed to bother him too much.

The boy did not understand Techno's dislike of Wilbur and the rest of his family very much, but on the other hand, he didn’t have that exact knowledge of the Piglish sounder structures - mainly because human research on the matter was almost nonexistent, after all, the Bastions were closed communities, and Techno himself refused to clarify some points, insisting that the only important information, or at least the one that should have been relevant to Tommy, was their dynamics - the Protector and the Runt.

Philza hadn't come home in two years, and Tommy, shortly after his twelfth birthday, began to notice that Wilbur was getting increasingly shaky.

He checked the maps more often, sometimes studying them for hours, and looked at the books about the Nether with dissatisfaction, urging Tommy to focus on studying geography or biology; something that would help him with his understanding of the Overworld.

Tommy had to admit that his brother might have been somewhat right about neglecting his native dimension –learning about the Nether came easily to him. He knew that the leaves of the blue vines were a good painkiller, that the wood of the red trees contained a substance that seemed like earth's water. That the Nether was pulsating as if it was an inside of a beating heart, that the Hoglin meat tasted best among fire-baked red mushrooms, that Piglins feared the blue fire, thinking it was cursed - Techno once told him about an old legend, claiming that it consumed the souls of the naive and careless Piglins, turning them into mindless, rotting shells, circling aimlessly in the red wasteland.

“They say they are looking for the flame in which their thoughts reside. However, when they encounter it, they are unable to get close, because although they have nothing to lose, they are still afraid of what the blue fire might take from them." The Piglin explained to him, grinning as Tommy moved a little closer.

Perhaps Technoblade was just such a good teacher. Tommy didn't want to hear about the green grass and the fresh air. The legends about the creatures that humans considered thoughtless and wild were one of the most fascinating things.

Tommy also knew Philza was wrong when he told him about the Piglins' brutality and the instincts that made them  only care for gold.

His father was the biggest man, but he could still be wrong - the thought comforted Tommy, after all, he made many mistakes himself. If his father might have been wrong about something too, it meant that they were alike. Phil was not a faraway ideal, impossible to attain, but someone human.

"How do your instincts work?" Tommy asked one day. Even though Technoblade had learned the human language, Tommy liked - and even preferred - to communicate with him using that of the Piglins. It was energetic and full of movements, giving him the opportunity to exhaust his endless energy reserves. Technoblade tilted his head, then wrinkled his snout and shrugged - it was a human gesture to admit ignorance. Piglins, when they had gaps in knowledge or wanted to give a mixed answer, exposed their necks, tilting their head back. It was a gesture of apology. Technoblade once explained that his race did not recognize such a thing as ignorance.

Each Piglin was supposed to be familiar with its profession and not be interested in anything else.

Technoblade liked to learn, which made him a recluse and a loner - or so Tommy assumed.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have instincts?"

“Tommy, you're using a human word. I have no idea what that means." Techno used his Piglin name. His ears went down and his tail lifted in amusement. Tommy opened his mouth wide, then closed it quickly, blushing.

"Do you have the need to do something, not because you want to, but because it's your Piglin part?"

"If you haven’t noticed, I'm all Piglin." Techno sounded intrigued, but the urge of bantering with Tommy was clearly a trait that every representative of his older sibling-figure possessed.

The boy stuck his tongue out and frowned, acting as if it was the greatest insult possible, even though Techno had heard from him some curses that even average adults didn’t know of.

“Humans have something like a voice in the back of their heads. When something threatens us, we have two types of response - fight or flight. And a-dre-na-line, or that's what Wilbur calls it. He says it makes people stronger in the face of danger. I guess we can also be territorial when we get attached to something." Tommy thought for a moment. “But I don't know if that counts as an instinct. They are usually associated with animals and cannot be controlled too much. Some hybrids have them, but not all."

He pointed his thumb at himself, smiling proudly.

“Due to the fact that I will grow wings in the future, I can have an instinct for adventure. Or one for getting terribly clingy. Wilbur said that dad had one like that when we were little, that sometimes you couldn't see his irises because his pupils were getting huuuge and that he was pathetic and sad if we walked away. Maybe Wilbur has that instinct too, which is why he has the Bad Days when dad’s away."

"Ah, the cry of nature." Technoblade nodded. He returned to his previous activity - carving a figurine in red wood. Tommy made a drawing of a cow and his friend tried to recreate it.

"Do you have something like that?"

"Most do."

"But you’re special?" Tommy asked skeptically. It wouldn't be the first time Techno had summed up his existence like that. That's why he didn't have a Bastion, that's why the other Piglins were clearly afraid of him, that's why he liked to learn, and that's why he had a human name.

He shook his head.

“No, I have them, but I can control them. This is the first thing they teach the Protectors."

"Oh." Tommy fluttered, clearly disappointed. It felt sad to think about controling such an important part of yourself. Part of him wondered if his dad had done the same one day, sacrificing that instinct that cried out for his family for the sake of an adventurous one. Perhaps it was easier to control, or perhaps his instincts were discomforting. Maybe once they just disappeared.

"You look disappointed."

"I was curious what they look like, that's it."

"Uh-huh."

Tommy crossed his arms over his chest. He glanced to the side, focusing on the Striders strolling across the lava. Their whiskers twitched as lonely drops of the liquid fell from them, somewhat like morning dew.

“Dad once told me that you only saved me because your instincts told you to. That it's because of my hair, because it's golden."

"It is golden, but it’s not gold." Techno muttered with amusement. But his ear twitched in displeasure at Tommy's words.

"I told him the same thing! Adults can be fucking stupid sometimes! No offense."

Technoblade snorted, his snout wrinkled. He brought the piece of wood close to his face, examining the outline of his sculpture carefully.

"I saved you because Nutpig would have finished you in one go." He began to scrape the dagger at the wood. "You reminded me of myslef."

"Really?" Tommy perked up, looking at him curiously.

Techno nodded.

"I was of a similar age when my Bastion accused me of treason." He muttered. Tommy looked at him puzzled, but from drooping ears and a shaky leg, he could tell that it wasn't something Techno was comfortable talking about.

"Since you were little when you stopped being a Protector in the Bastion, why don't you let them go wild?"

"My instincts?" Techno mocked him, putting the same kind of tone and accent on the word as Tommy had before. The boy showed him the middle finger.

"Yes, your instincts." He said, raising his voice comically high. The Piglin relaxed.

"I didn't have a chance. You shouldn't necessarily give in to the nature's call, it makes you vulnerable. And in solitude it is rather pitifully sad."

"Then why didn't you let them go crazy in front of me? Would you attack me?"

"Never." The Piglin said frankly, looking at him seriously and with absolute certainty. He lowered his ears. "I didn't want to scare or overwhelm you." He simply admitted.

The twelve-year-old grabbed his hand and held it to his. He looked at him

"What do instincts do?"

"They let you loosen up, deepen your bonds and calm down." Techno said hesitantly, looking at their hands.

"And you never got into your instincts?"

"No." His tail began to wave. Tommy smiled mischievously.

"No wonder you act like you have a fucking stick up your ass, since you never did that one thing that would relax you."

Techno snorted, shaking his head and laughing in his low voice. Tommy blushed.

“When Wilbur has Bad Days, I usually help him. Or when he can't sleep. Maybe you will also, uh, benefit from it?"

The Piglin froze and looked at him uncertainly.

"I want to help you." Tommy added.

"I am the Protector."

"Oh my Prime! Fucking, I know!" The blond puffed up. “I don't question it, but I don't think it will kill you if you try to deviate from your Bastion ideal for even a moment. You said yourself that you were different from the rest of the Piglins and that you didn't follow their rules."

"Because I hate the government."

"Congratulations. Do you want to try?" Tommy let go of his hand, instead spreading his arms wide as if inviting him into a hug. "In return, I offer a bit of Quality Tommy Time."

"That sounds so inviting." Techno muttered with amusement. Tommy rolled his eyes, regretting teaching him about sarcasm.

After a while, Techno lowered his head, and his ears fell in a characteristic way. Tommy grinned but made no comment that his friend was clearly embarrassed.

“I can't- Instincts should come by themselves from time to time. But they can't work for me because I've never let them get along. I always control them. So much for it. " He explained.

He straightened up and looked at Tommy, who held his hand out in front of him as if to approve the deal by shaking them.

"If I can get you into your instincts, you'll have to help me ride Nutpig."

"If not, we'll hunt it down and eat it with potato gratin."

Tommy was indignant.

"Hey, that's not fair! It’s her life! You shouldn't decide about that!"

"So we won’t do this deal then." Techno smirked. Tommy rolled his eyes and shook his hand, approving their arrangement.

Immediately after that, he smiled devilishly and began imitating panicked squeals. Like any twelve-year-old, that is, the embodiment of evil, he managed to read and learn about how the Piglin instincts could work - or rather, how to make them work.

Well, actually, it was Wilbur who had told him, indifferently mentioning that he had read about it once and thought that maybe Tommy would use it someday, if he had met a dangerous Piglin. He recommended it as a method to evoke immediate compassion and a sense of helplessness in those creatures.

Techno wasn't dangerous, but as Tommy began to imitate exactly the sound Wilbur showed him, he froze in place, studying him intently.

His eyes were white and had no pupils, but Tommy had the impression that if he had them, they would have consumed all the white.

Techno's chest began to make a repetitive chuffing sound. He lunged at Tommy and pulled him close, sniffing him carefully and, after deciding that everything was okay, hugging him.

Tommy watched with amusement at the oh formidable and dangerous warrior who, with the concern of a mother caring for her newborn, carefully lifted him up and started walking towards his cave.

As soon as they got inside, he put him on his bed, as on the day they met, but this time, instead of bandaging him or being vigilant, he lay down beside him, huddling against him and drawing him to himself.

Tommy dipped his face in his fur, dirty with dust and dirt but still soft and pleasant, slowly drifting away. Techno's rhythmic chuffing turned into a loud purr, like a cat on steroids. His tail kept working.

"Great Technoblade, defeated by one simple sound." Tommy grunted in amusement. Techno looked at him with the eyes of a lost puppy. A questioning squeal escaped from his lips.

The boy hugged him, allowing himself a nap.

But he hadn't expected that holding back your instincts for the rest of your life would have any repercussions.

He stood up after an hour or two, opening his eyes and stretching lazily. Techno was still cuddling up to him, arranged to make Tommy as comfortable as possible. The boy pulled out of his embrace and began to look around the pit.

It was almost impossible for humans to measure time in the Nether, so he could only rely on his gut. And it said it was time for Wilbur to start worrying.

He looked at Techno, who stood up abruptly, straightening and stretching. Tommy was about to ask for help in returning to the portal - his friend was a walking GPS - when the Piglin began to squeal.

"Techno? Are you okay Big Man?" Tommy asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Technoblade dragged him back to the bed and wrapped him in blankets and furs so that he could not slip out of it.

"Techno, it's not funny! I have to go!"

The Piglin rested his snout on his head, breathing heavily into his hair. He then got up and walked over to the part of the cavity where he kept his gold - Tommy knew that however he would argue, Techno had a tendency to hoard whatever he thought was shiny enough.

The boy definitely did not expect his friend to return with a handful of jewelry.

He started dressing Tommy in necklaces and bracelets. The crown Tommy had given him fell on his eyes, but he didn't seem to care, continuing his activity and not wasting a second to correct it.

He squealed with sad resignation when he noticed that the earrings he had brought were useless. He tossed them aside and began to put various rings on Tommy's fingers.

"I guess I preferred when you were sober." The twelve-year-old said, wrinkling his nose in displeasure. Nevertheless, Technoblade chose jewelry that was light so that it would not weigh Tommy down and cause him discomfort.

The boy was sure he looked like he was fighting for the first place in the "How much is your outfit" contest.

"Have you robbed a bank, big man?" He asked, eyeing the next golden accessories in disbelief. There were gold-plated hairpins in his hair.

After finishing his work, Technoblade hummed contentedly, then lay down next to Tommy, hugged him, and stared at him expectantly.

"I have to go back to Wilbur, he'll be worried." Tommy clumsily explained to him, which Piglin countered with a disgruntled grunt.

"Fuck Wilbur."

Tommy laughed incredulously. Apparently, even deeply immersed in instincts, Technoblade remembered his reluctance.

Finally, resigned, he cuddled up to him, twirling under the layers of leather.

Nether's heat ceased to bother him. Something deep within him was pleased with the proximity of his sounder.

He snuggled into Techno.

Wilbur could wait for a little while longer.

However, guilt, after a few hours of pleasant rest, began to weigh down on Tommy's conscience in incredible ways.

After he felt rested, he assumed that a new day had begun. He made no attempt to leave the lair, instead nudged Techno, waiting for his reply.

The Piglin purred sleepily, then lazily opened one of his eyes. He squealed nervously at the sight of Tommy, still dressed in gold.

"Are you back?" The boy asked maliciously, although the smile that appeared on his face was sincere. Had it not been for the layer of fur covering Techno's cheeks, he would probably have been redder than the Nether soil.

"It was unexpected." He muttered in a low voice as he slowly looked around his cave. He helped Tommy get out of the layers of gold and the blankets surrounding him like the waves of the sea, trying to muffle and distract himself from the singular squeals of evident dissatisfaction and regret escaping from his throat.

"You didn’t let me leave."

Techno nodded his head as an apology, and Tommy laughed loudly. He crashed his forehead against his in token of forgiveness

"You give the best hugs. Wilbur has spaghetti noodle arms and he's bony. I think it was the first time I slept so well." He joked. Technoblade hummed contentedly, probably adding a point on his side in his mental list. Every fall of Wilbur was his success.

"You have to go back." The Piglin announced, though it sounded like a question. Tommy looked at him inquiringly.

"You're still not quite here, are you?" He asked, to what his friend snorted at with amusement.

"At least I'm in control now." He forcibly refrained himself from dragging Tommy into the lair. "It wasn't entirely bad."

Tommy grinned broadly.

“I won our bet. So you have to help me ride Nutpig!"

"I change my mind, I was pretending all this time."

Tommy burst out laughing and, tugging on Techno's hand, began walking towards the portal.

They faced the obsidian frame. The boy started to release Techno's hand, but he only gripped it tighter. He stared intently at the swirling mist.

Then he walked over to her, slowly sinking into it with Tommy.

The boy watched silently as the world ahead began to blur, and the red ceiling being replaced by the blue sky.

"Oh." Techno muttered, shielding his eyes from the sunlight with his free hand. His snout began to tremble. He sniffed the new surroundings with fascination.

Tommy jumped to the ground.

"You came with me!" He exclaimed happily. Technoblade looked at him a bit panicked.

He smiled nervously.

"It sure does look like it." He confirmed, wagging his tail excitedly. He placed his hoof carefully on the grass, squealing contentedly. "I didn't think it was so nice here." He admitted after a while.

"You have to come home with me!" I will show you my room and you will meet Wilbur!" Tommy convinced him, waving towards his house. Techno looked at him nervously, but then his negative emotions shook off.

"Do you have a cool room?"

"The coolest! And I could make a lair for you there. We would be roommates!"

The Piglin snorted, his ears lifting up. He nodded.

"The closest of bonds, I suppose."

"Of course! You have to trust that your roommate will clean up after themself and that they will not stab you in the middle of the night. Or so Sally had told me."

"What if I stab Wilbur?" Techno asked sardonically. Tommy narrowed his eyes at him.

"Please don't stab my brother, it would be so not poggers."

Techno laughed, but after a while his expression fell. He sniffed the air uncertainly, breathing hard.

"Are you ok big man?" Tommy asked. His voice wavered as he saw Techno glance at his hand in horror, quickly tucking it behind his tunic.

"It's terribly cold, Tommy." He said slowly. His tongue went numb. A feeling of dullness, like the one a few hours ago, when his instincts completely overwhelmed him, began to spread slowly over his mind. He grunted several times.

Immersion in the nature's call was pleasant, filling him with a sense of warmth and security. Now, however, he felt an overwhelming panic, as if the voice in the back of his head was pressing and swearing that it sensed an unbelievable danger.

"It's hot. Techno, are you okay?"

Tommy reached for his hand, choking on his own saliva when he saw a trace of rot. One of the scars on Techno's arm started to become nasty. Even though a moment ago it was faded and barely visible - a delicate pearly white shining through the fur - now it seemed to be an open wound, and the flesh visible from under the torn skin was quickly turning black.

"What is this?" Tommy asked in a panic. Technoblade squeaked and his breathing quickened. He shook his head, stomping nervously.

"An infection." He said slowly.

Tommy's eyes widened as he thought of a small note in one of the textbooks about the Nether's fauna and flora - that under inappropriate conditions, the creatures from the other dimension were said to start to rot.

He didn't pay much attention to this information, especially since it wasn't confirmed - after all, there weren't many people who actually got close enough to the Piglins to help them cross the portal.

"You have to go back." The boy decided, pushing his friend towards the portal. Techno looked at him in panic.

"Tommy-"

"I will go with you, I will help you." Promised the boy in a voice shaking with emotion. He looked at Techno's hand with determination. As soon as the Piglin touched the portal, the wound closed and disappeared.

They stared at it for a moment.

Piglin put a hand on Tommy's shoulder. He put his forehead to his.

"Everything alright, see? Go to Wilbur, he must be worried about you. I'll see you soon, I promise." He laughed nervously. “At least we know I shouldn't follow you here. Although I will be sad about that. You have a nice sky."

Tommy stared at his face for any sign of pain or discomfort. He must not have found what he was looking for because he sighed in resignation.

"I didn't want anything to happen to you."

“Well, it was my decision to try. Anyway," The Piglin waved his hand, healthy again. "there are for sure potions and ways for me to be here safely. This way we will have the reason to look for adventures."

“Tommy and Technoblade, the greatest warriors, looking for a way to cross the worlds. Travelers from all dimensions. The greatest of men. The Wife-haver and his faithful sidekick."

Technoblade laughed and ruffled his hair.

He entered the portal, bowing goodbye to him.

Relieved by the lack of visible wounds and the sight of his friend's silhouette fading into the obsidian frame, Tommy walked slowly home.

When he opened the door he was met with a terrifying silence. Wilbur was seated at the table, hands clasped together. He was leaning slightly over the surface of the table top, letting the fringe fall over his eyes.

His face was swollen and red.

The fingers of his hand were bleeding where he had torn the skin from biting his nails.

Tommy stood still, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for him to be noticed.

"’Ow do?" He asked uncertainly, and under Wilbur's sharp gaze his voice leapt several octaves up. "You look gloomy, big man."

Wilbur got up slowly and walked towards him. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tommy, where the hell have you been."

"I told you I was going for a walk."

“You've been gone for hours. I think I told you not to go too far. I told you to be within my voice."

His fingers tightened. Tommy flexed his muscles, staring in surprise at the nails digging into his skin.

"I know, I know, okay. You don't have to worry so much, I'm fine."

Wilbur's eyes narrowed. He was like a snake, slowly wrapping itself around its prey, watching it with attention unlike any other creature.

“You got a clear order. You broke the rules and there weren't even that many of them." His fingers squeezed even tighter. “Don't tell me you are stupid enough not to understand such simple instructions. Simple soldiers listen to complete strangers better than you do your own brother."

"Wilbur, you're hurting me." Tommy said, looking him straight in the eye.

His brother withdrew his hand as if the boy's shoulder had burned him. He brought it to his chest and tightened his fingers on his sweater. His eyes glazed over.

Tommy stood there, staring at him uncertainly.

Wilbur dropped to his knees and began to sob. He grabbed Tommy's blouse, pulling him closer, and hugged his legs.

"You can’t leave me. Tommy, please, I'm scared. I don’t want to be alone. You can't do this to me. I love you, please don't leave me alone."

“Wil, I'm not going anywhere. I always come home. It was just a walk." Tommy calmly explained to him. He put a hand on his head, dipping his fingers between his brother’s brown locks.

"You hate me." Wilbur accused him. “You hate me and you will leave just like Phil did. You’ll grow wings and you’ll leave me alone too."

He sobbed louder, hiding his face from the boy.

"Please, don't leave me." He begged.

Tommy slowly moved away, then knelt across from him. He reached out, grabbing Wilbur’s hand with his own and holding them together. Wilbur continued to bow his head, his shoulders shaking from the constant sobs tearing through his body.

Tommy thought about Technoblade. His friend described himself as the Protector, explaining that there was some sort of hierarchy in the Bastions, where the weak Piglins were protected by the larger and stronger ones.

Technoblade was Tommy's Protector. Tommy managed to learn that giving a Piglin something gold was an offer to become part of their sounder, and that accepting or donating the beads was an acceptance and a confirmation.

Tommy was yet to find out why Techno was lonely and why the bigger Piglin once decided to offer him to join its sounder.

However, Wilbur didn’t have a Protector.

So just like Technoblade was Tommy's, Tommy chose to become Wilbur's.

His brother tore his hand away, bringing it to his chest again.

Tommy moved closer to him and hugged him.

"I promise I'll never leave you." He swore. His voice was soft, like a breeze of an autumn wind. "If I have to, I'll get rid of my wings to stay with you."

Wilbur finally returned the hug. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably.

"I love you, Tommy. I love you. Please don’t leave me."

"I won’t."

Tommy felt something inside him split in two. There seemed to be a cascade of tears hiding behind his eyes, like those running down Wilbur's face.

He took a deep, trembling breath.

Tommy didn't cry.

Chapter Text

Looking back, Tommy should have expected this.

He didn't even have time to make sure that Technoblade was alive and well, as he spent the next few days on either: reassuring Wilbur that he would never leave him, or ineffective attempts to explain that the fact that he had squeezed his shoulders too tight and hurt him didn't make him hate him.

Tommy refused to think of caring for his brother as something exhausting. He stubbornly clung to the childish statement that he was fulfilling his part of the bargain that was belonging to the same family. He looked after his brother, just as Wilbur looked after him.

His stomach clenched every time Wilbur refused to eat, staring absentmindedly at the floor. He only spoke when Tommy initiated the conversation himself.

The boy had the feeling that he would soon be hearing the Phantoms around the house himself. He tried to keep an eye on Wilbur and make sure he was asleep, but from the growing bags under his eyes, and from the great anxiety he looked out of the window with as soon as it got dark, he had a gloomy impression that he was not doing a good job.

Some part of him wanted to cry and run away to Technoblade to be in his safe embrace. With every passing day, Wilbur looked less and less like home.

The Piglin was older and experienced. The boy hoped that he could advise him, help in taking care of his brother.

Every time he felt the unpleasant feeling in his stomach, as it seemed to grow, and his lungs began to ache with the stress, as fatigue took over and a feeling of despair ensued, he pushed all his emotions as deep as he could, laying himself on Wilbur's lap and letting him comb through his hair.

The will to stay with him was stronger than his will to leave.

He was overjoyed when his brother slowly began to look more alive, smiling nervously and giggling in mock annoyance over poor-quality jokes.

He seemed to be looking out the window more and more, his hands twitching nervously.

Tommy should have expected one day to wake up to see Wilbur standing in the doorway with his backpack packed.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, staring languidly around the room. He fell asleep with his brother, arguing over which of them should get the most of the blanket.

The room felt oddly empty. There were still all kinds of items on the shelves, and there were clothes in the closet, but something seemed to be wrong. A few favorite sweaters and knick-knacks were missing, the guitar was neatly packed in a case that hadn't been used in years.

"Tommy, I've made a decision." His brother announced smiling broadly. His voice was energetic and melodic. He sounded vividly, like a meadow in spring, or a sea in summer. He looked as if he finally felt whole.

"What's the decision, big man? It can't be fucking good if you wake me up so early." He muttered sluggishly, as he rolled off the bed and wrapped the blanket around himself. Wilbur shook his head in amusement and handed him clean clothes.

"I spoke to Sally, we figured it was time for us to go on our own adventure."

Tommy blinked, stunned.

"You’re leaving me?"

The smile immediately faded from Wilbur's face. The brunet started gesturing lively, shaking his head.

"What? No! Of course not! I would never leave you! We’re going together!"

"What about Dad? He’ll be worried if we’re not there."

“I left him a letter. Get dressed, I have packed all the necessary things, so we’ll be able to leave immediately."

Tommy bit his lip and frowned as he considered his next words. More and more often, talking to Wilbur felt like a game of chess, where any careless move could have serious consequences. The blond had learned over the years to move around the board to the rhythm of his brother's play, but there were still times when he felt that he needed to be extra careful and consider every option.

"Something's wrong?" Wilbur asked, wearing a worried expression himself. Tommy began to play with his hands, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you remember my Piglin?" He asked uncertainly, glancing at his brother's face. The brown eyes stared at him seriously, but there was something about them beyond recognition - understanding.

"You visit him, don't you?"

"Wil, I swear I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want to worry you, because you have a lot on your head anyway and you try and do your best-"

"I knew."

Tommy looked up immediately, straightening up and staring at him in disbelief. The blonde opened his mouth, but no word came out of it. Wilbur smiled warmly and laughed.

"You weren't as secretive as you thought." He explained honestly, and Tommy grinned nervously.

“Or you are too perceptive. Eyeglassers are like that. They look at the world from behind the glasses and think to themselves, mi mi mi, we are in-tel-ligent, because when you put on glasses, you become smarter, so you have an advantage over other people."

"Who says that?"

"Smart people. Most likely the ones with glasses." Tommy replied, feeling a thriving satisfaction in his brother's uncontrollable giggle.

Wilbur calmed down by taking a few deep breaths and adjusting the glasses that had almost fell off his nose.

"Would your... Friend- Would it by nature have the willingness to endure the company of two more people and lead us safely through the Nether?" He asked uncertainly.

Tommy smiled, radiating more than the sun itself. He nodded vigorously.

"Oh, he will be delighted! You will love him, he’s so funny and he cooks great, I mean, once you get used to raw meat and the fact that his diet consists entirely of potatoes. Maybe we'll make him take us all to ride Nutpig! He lost the bet, so he has to help me with that, and if we bully him enough, maybe he'll let you guys try it too!"

"Nutpig?" Wilbur asked, looking increasingly lost and questioning every single decision he has ever made in his life. Tommy nodded, practically vibrating in place.

"It’s my Hoglin! We're practically best friends, although she was evil in the beginning, but it's not her fault."

Tommy paid little attention to the fact that at the word Hoglin his brother turned pale, looking whiter than the skeletons in the Soul Sand Valley.

As soon as the blonde got dressed, they went to meet Sally, who was waiting for them with a large backpack on her shoulders. She looked down at the case on Wilbur's back, her eyebrows gently raised.

"Are you going to feed us by collecting pennies for street performances?" She asked bitterly, but her eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. Wilbur twisted his face in a contradicting smile, wrinkling his nose and eyebrows and squinting his eyes. He pulled her hat over her face.

"I don't believe we have to look after the unfulfilled musician. Tommy, we're going to have a lot of work to keep him alive, right? " She asked with a contagious smile. The blonde quickly agreed, showing his middle finger to his brother and yelling something about Sally being his favorite sibling.

Wilbur cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

“We'll go through the Nether if everything goes well. Tommy will get us a guide."

"Oh, that famous friend on the other side?" She asked, to what Tommy took a dramatic breath in, staring at Wilbur in indignation and disbelief, and utter betrayal.

"Did you tell her too? Does everyone know I go out to the Nether?"

“I wouldn't be surprised, you're a pretty damn loud child. It's hard not to notice your absence." Sally explained blandly. The blonde crossed his arms over his chest.

"Betrayal. Nobody respects me here, wronguns, all of you."

Wilbur chuckled and grabbed his hand as he started walking towards the portal.

The obsidian frame stood where it always stood, greeting Tommy with a familiar hum.

"I've never gone through a portal before." Sally muttered, eyeing the purple surface, spinning like a cyclone, distrustfully. Wilbur nodded.

"You're acting like a puss-"

Wilbur covered Tommy’s mouth as he pushed aside and walked over to the frame. He dipped his hand in the purple mass, squinting his eyes as a mass of particles flew towards him.

Tommy ran into the frame, dragging his companions with him.

"Stop being so dramatic. Why are old people so fucking slow?" He groaned, closing his eyes and waiting for the dizziness to feel less persistent. The landscape changed and the sky was replaced by the red cliffs.

Sally jumped off the portal frame, standing among the red grass. She held out her hand to help Wilbur down.

They looked around in amazement. It was quiet and peaceful, except for the pulsating sound that seemed to come from within the dimension.

It was hard to feel the warmth of the netherrack under the thick soles of their boots. Wilbur rolled up his sleeves, his face starting glistening with sweat almost immediately as they appeared. Sally tied her hair in a ponytail and rolled up her sleeves, wiping her forehead.

“I don't understand how can you spend time in here. They don't have some kind of a cooling system?"

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"You get used to it, you're just dramatic." He looked around, searching for anything that might indicate that Technoblade was nearby.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw high-raised ears peeking out from behind the rocks. One of them had a familiar tear. He smiled slyly and waved at Wilbur.

"Stay here, I'll go and explain everything." He announced, assuming confidence that many of the businessmen could envy.

He trotted over to the stones and leaned behind them, saying Techno’s name in the Piglin language.

The Piglin initially put his ears back, but recognizing Tommy they went up again, and soon he began wagging his tail.

"Strangers." He stated, wrinkling his snout. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"It's Wilbur and Sally."

"Which one is Wilbur?"

Tommy leaned over the rocks and waved to the couple. Sally waved back, but Wilbur was too busy looking around unfamiliar territory and being nervous.

"In the yellow sweater." The boy said, bringing his hand to his head and twirling his wrist - a sign for fluffy or curly hair.

Technoblade narrowed his eyes and stared at him as a teacher stares at a student who once again failed the test - judging and without any pity or mercy.

"I could break him in half. He looks like a small, thin twig. Twigbur." He purred with satisfaction. "Like a pencil."

Tommy watched him with amusement.

"Yes, I don't think he would stand a chance against you." He replied.

"Why is he here?"

"We're leaving. Wil said we're going on an adventure and I don't know when we'll be back. I wanted to say goodbye, but Wil asked if you could take us through the Nether. We want to find a portal. You know, such a journey into the unknown."

Technoblade barely twitched, but Tommy knew him better than he knew himself. He recognized the nervous twitching of the ear and the twisting of the tail, and the way his tusks were exposed.

There was no denying that Tommy's words had made him nervous and sad.

"Are you leaving?" He repeated deafly. Even though the Piglin language was very monotonous and hardly conveyed emotion through sounds, his squeal sounded sad and empty.

Tommy dropped to the ground, toying with the thread sticking out of his T-shirt.

"I will visit you. You don't have to come with us." He said softly.

Technoblade shook his head.

"No, I am going with you, I am your Protector. I couldn't leave you. But if Wilbur tries to join our sounder without permission, I'll rip off all his limbs."

"Why would he try to join our sounder?" Tommy asked in surprise. Techno looked distrustfully at the necklace around his neck, only looking away after he saw two beads. He shrugged.

Tommy grabbed his hand and led him towards his family.

While Sally watched them with a shy smile, taking an almost imperceptible step back at the sight of Techno, Wilbur looked as if he wanted to leap off a cliff and into the lava.

Technoblade did not look pleased either. Tommy was going to laugh at him until the end of the world for how awkward he looked.

The blonde took over quickly, smiling happily and jumping between the three of them.

“Techno, that's my brother Wilbur, he's a total pussy, and that's Sally. She's cool."

He pointed to the Piglin.

"Guys, this is Technoblade."

"I thought its name was Cyberknife?' Wilbur asked, looking a little more confident when the Piglin hadn't pounced on them at the first opportunity. Techno let out a low squeal and a few grunts. The brunet stepped back, stumbling over a root.

Tommy looked at his friend condemningly.

"You know what? That's not very proper to say in front of the ladies."

Technoblade wrinkled his snout, snorted, and folded his arms over his chest, looking away from Wilbur.

The brunet began to look at him with fascination.

"It speaks? Do you understand it? " He asked Tommy incredulously.

The Piglin snorted again, causing Tommy to frown. The boy tilted his head to the side to which his friend replied with a series of gestures and grunts.

“Techno understands us. And I learned how to talk to him." He explained, although the expression on his face indicated that he wanted to add something more. Another squeal to which he responded with a loud laugh. "Do you want to give him a heart attack? It's a very serious thing, Techno. You shouldn’t tell that people if you don’t want them to die of fright."

Technoblade looked like he wished Wilbur did die.

Tommy grinned at Wilbur, who looked helplessly at Sally. Technoblade snorted again, causing the kid to laught even more.

“Techno says every time someone lies, their hairline recedes. And he called you Baldbur."

"I AM NOT BALD."

"Whatever you say, dear brother." He patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

“It's hard to accept, but we are there for you. You can count on our support." Sally added. Techno huffed in amusement, and Wilbur groaned in despair.

"I'm not bald!"

"Of course. But there is nothing to be ashamed of, if you were."

Seeing Tommy laughing happily, Techno added a lot of points to his side.

His runt didn't need a brother, but if that made him happy and Techno himself couldn't fulfill the role, he was willing to endure Wilbur's presence.

Chapter Text

The Piglin's eyes were white as snow, expressionless, and it was hard to believe that there were any remnants of a soul behind them, but his movements, vivid expressions, and the vast array of sounds he made belied any doubts about his self-awareness.

Wilbur watched with displeasure as Tommy got too close to the creature - or at least too close in Wilbur's opinion - and tried hard to suppress the stinging feeling of jealousy that slowly sprouted like a prickly roses in his lungs.

His brother looked happier than in his company, laughing at the Piglin's jokes or conspiratorially whispering to him, making exaggerated expressions and gesturing lively.

Wilbur was a person who felt his emotions extremely strong. All the feelings seemed to fill him from within, blooming in his bones and climbing up his insides until their petals fell out in the form of words from his mouth.

Jealousy was not an emotion he felt too often. Rarely was he jealous of Phil, after all, the man preferred freedom to taking care of his sons. No matter how much Tommy adored him, or how steadfast his faith in their father was, he wasn't as close to the boy as his brother.

Technoblade seemed to challenge him to a duel for the title of the superior sibling, glancing up at him with an evidently proud smile on his face every time Tommy cuddled up to him in his sleep or talked with fascination about Overworld and many other things.

Wilbur had a vague feeling that the Piglin was running a win counter in his head and he was slowly hitting a losing position.

The heatwaves in the Nether were unbearable and, contrary to what Tommy had promised, swearing that after a few days it was hard to feel anything and the temperature was at least bearable, they only seemed to rise.

Technoblade refused to pass through the Soul Sand Valley, guiding them around, helping Sally and Tommy hitch over floating islands, and snorting at Wilbur, who was desperately clinging to the vines, trying not to fall to certain death.

The brunet silently admitted to himself that whatever made Phil feel a real love of traveling, had definitely skipped him in the genetic lottery. He doubted he would feel the joy of jumping on the flying islands and climbing tall trees in search of adrenaline even if he had the opportunity to take himself into the air with wings.

Finding the portal was difficult, though no one seemed to care much, much to Wilbur's horror.

Sally was friendly with Techno, praising his kitchen even when he served them raw pieces of meat tucked between the leaves. Wilbur winced in a gag reflex as his beloved and his brother dipped their teeth into the blood-dripping meat, tearing it to pieces.

He refused to eat until the whole thing was cooked, muttering something about being uncivilized.

However, being away from home seemed to have a positive effect on his psyche. The nightmares seemed to be forgotten, and his sense of peace, despite the horrible conditions and the dangers surrounding him on all sides, intensified as never before.

"Tommy, I have to tell you we should never look back again." He said one day. The twelve-year-old looked at his wild smile doubtfully.

"Are you the Good Days Wilbur or the Bad Days Wilbur?" He asked skeptically, at which the brunet laughed happily.

"From now on, I am only and exclusively the Good Days Wilbur." He promissed. "See, Tommy? We don't need Phil. All we need is ourselves."

"Sally and Techno too." The kid added.

"Of course. Sally is the most wonderful person I could ask for. But we need ourselves the most. Just the two of us, against the whole world."

“We also need Dad. Just not now, okay?"

Wilbur grimaced slightly, quickly trying to cover it up with a smile. Something whispered to him about tearing out all the feathers, one at a time, so that Phil could never fly again.

"Well, maybe sometimes." He reluctantly agreed. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder, returning to a friendly, relaxed position. "But before everyone else, just us two. You are the most important, Tommy. You ‘re like my unfinished symphony."

"Unfinished?" The boy raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Are you insulting me?"

"What? No. You idiot. Unfinished, because I'm still writing it. We are. Together."

"Whatever you say, bald man."

"For the last time, I'm not bald!"

"You know who would say that? Bald people."

Wilbur's problem was that he couldn't figure out Techno.

He was aware of his own charisma. He could use words like marionettes in a theater. The world was his stage, words his actors. The audience believed in the world he created, immersing themselves in it as if in a breathtaking spectacle, expecting each new sentence and absorbing it as the absolute truth about the world he created for them.

It was easy for him to influence Tommy, knowing what made him tick, like a clock, always on time, always following the routine he had set up years ago. Like a watchmaker, he could direct the clock’s hands to a place of his choice, fix a mechanism that was beginning to behave inappropriately. Tommy was open about what he felt.

His nature was simple, predictable. He wanted to help as if it were something he was created to do.

Despite his overwhelming fear of being alone, of falling into a state of limbo, in a tunnel with no exit, where his only companions were his thoughts, mocking and laughing at him, waiting for him to snap, Wilbur subconsciously realized that no matter where he was, Tommy would eventually join him there.

Sally, on the other hand, was like fire. A hot temper, boldness and steadfastness in her opinion made Wilbur adore her like an alcoholic adored every drop of the bitter liquor.

She was confident, seemed to understand him without words, a safe haven when he didn't know what he was doing, guiding him to the shore like a beacon.

He knew her passion, he knew her fears, he knew that she was eager to defend her loved ones until the very last breath. Sometimes she felt like a fire, engulfing Wilbur entirely. Like a fanatic, he approached her, trying to warm his hands in her embers, kissing the burns his love for her left behind.

She was fire and Wilbur was a lighthouse keeper who could control it, helping her lead the way.

Technoblade, however, did not seem to be anything.

Wilbur didn't know, apart from his obvious devotion to Tommy, to which he was still thinking that his brother was simply throwing the Piglin into his instincts, what might make him act that way. What prevented him from tearing the kid to shreds with a knife, robbing valuables from his body - Wilbur had heard of the Piglins who were tearing scalps from the victims with golden hair - or what made him decide to go on a journey with him without thinking, leaving his spot in which he had lived for years, as if he was throwing away a used handkerchief.

He didn't know what he was attached to, what was important to him. He didn't know what to say so that Piglin would stop staring at him as if he intended to offend every inch of Wilbur’s being.

As they sat by the fire, Tommy fell asleep against Techno, his face deep into his fur, while the Piglin hugged him and purred contentedly, possibly adding a ton of points to his side of his superior sibling count.

Sally fell asleep leaning against Wilbur's shoulder, who carefully laid her on the ground to save her spine from premature low back pain, resting her head on his sweater, folded next to his backpack.

"I have a vague feeling that you don’t like me." He started, trying to sound friendly. The Piglin snorted, his snout wrinkled and his ears flicked.

You don’t say, his soulless eyes seemed to say.

Wilbur shrugged, trying to pretend his reaction didn't hurt his ego.

“You know, we have common goals. We both care about Tommy. I think he would be happy to see that we’re friends. Is his happiness not worth becoming friends?

The Piglin threw a potato in his face.

Wilbur spent the rest of the evening in silence, frowning as his new frenemy waved his tail even harder, making a poorly contained noise that sounded unbelievably similar to a chuckle.

The following days of traveling were as obnoxious as the previous ones, and Wilbur gave in trying to impress Techno enough to make him stop throwing stones in his shoes as soon as he took them off.

He was pretty sure Tommy was helping him with some of the pranks, but every time he got angry with them, they put on the most innocent expression possible, looking anywhere but at him.

Sally insisted that he was too serious about their jokes, defending them, because they were children.

Wilbur narrowed his eyes and looked at her reproachfully, not believing that she would have betrayed him so perfidiously. But that would explain the Piglin's behavior. Of all the people, he happened to come across Tommy.

He probably took over some of his behaviors, imitating unconsciously his way of being, not having a comparison of how other people behaved for a long time.

Tommy probably, according to Wilbur, was some kind of authority for Techno, teaching him how to communicate with people - or at least how to understand them - and showing him various items belonging to the Overworld, which was ahead of the Nether in the development of civilization by centuries.

The Overworld had water, electricity, redstone clusters, a mass of all kinds of minerals, and ancient structures that stretched all over the world, from temples to mines and abandoned libraries; all places beloved by the yearning for unknown adventurers.

Sally seemed to be more understanding than anyone else.

One of the days of their journey, she sat down next to Techno, who was staring with obvious displeasure at the brothers, who were standing by the shore of the lava lake.

Tommy waved his arms vigorously, practically vibrating in place. He was pointing to the Striders, which were walking across the lava, and explaining something to Wilbur, who was looking at him with a characteristic warmth and fondness.

Tommy began to mimic the creatures' gait, swaying from side to side. His brother joined him, and after a while, as they tripped over a stone - well, Tommy over a stone, Wilbur over Tommy - he ruffled his hair and said something, possibly calling him a gremlin, because the blond lunged at him in a mock attack, laughing happily .

"They are bonding." Sally said as she tried to braid her red hair. Technoblade looked away from them, watching her fingers’ movements.

She cursed when she made a mistake, unraveling the strands and starting all over again.

“Wilbur loves him very much, if you’re worried about that. He would never knowingly hurt him. He certainly wouldn't lie to him. He's good at all this politic shit, but when he loves someone, he's as honest as he can, even if it hurts." She explained.

She sighed, confusing the strands again. Then looked at the Piglin.

"Would you like to try?"

Techno hesitantly touched her hair, then focused on repeating her movements, with the attention and care that many hairdressers didn’t have.

"Wil is only eighteen. That’s not enough. In fact, he's still a child, too, you know. He was too young to carry such a burden on his shoulders. He loves Tommy, they are brothers, this is one of the strongest bonds, especially when you decide yourself that you really are ones, but no one should be forced to take that kind of responsibility so young." She turned around to meet Techno’s eyes, interrupting his work for a moment.

"It's Phil's fault. If I could, I would have plucked all his feathers for being an absent parent. You can give your children anything, but without you being there, it doesn’t matter." She turned back, letting Techno continue. “My mother always went out of her way to let me know I could count on her. That's why it pisses me off that Wil wasn't so lucky."

Their journey together could be the beginning of something good, new. Saying goodbye to a small village where they have spent all their lives without seeing a future in.

Sally dreamed of the open sea. Of her own ship and crew, of the dust-smelling cannons and the chipped saber of her grandmother, who used to sail in the ocean, fighting monsters and robbing underwater temples. Her decision to live on the mainland was sudden and unexpected.

For the rest of her life, she walked as if she were on a boat in a storm - struggling to keep her balance.

Sally also dreamed of living with Wilbur, of watching Tommy, who was like a family member to her, grow up, of watching her friend fulfill his dreams, eventually ceasing to reach for his father's approval.

She wanted Tommy to not be the only one with the burden of Wilbur’s bad days.

Techno poked at her shoulder.

She turned, looking at him curiously. He made a specific gesture. He held out his open hands, then pressed them together and brought them closer to his chest. Then he looked at Wilbur, then back at her.

Maybe Sally was beginning to pick up the basics of the Piglin language, or maybe it was obvious to her. She blushed furiously, her face turning the color of the red trees.

"What's there not to love about him?" She asked, blushing more and more. Techno looked at her doubtfully, clearly questioning her life choices.

Then he began to squeal and snort, gesturing vividly, listing every possible reason.

Sally laughed, rolling her eyes, and went back to watching the brothers wrestle in the gravel.

They managed to find the portal within the next week. Wilbur bowed to Techno, saying some fancy, solemn goodbyes, then started toward the obsidian frame with obvious relief.

Sally smiled and saluted the Piglin, overtaking Wilbur and being the first to step into the spinning mass of the portal.

Tommy looked at him with a soft smile.

"Thank you for coming with us."

“I couldn't leave you alone. We are a sounder, runt." The Piglin replied, leaning down and pressing his forehead against his. "I'll see you soon, for now you should go and see if you've come to the right place."

"I will describe all the trees in the area to you." Tommy promised eagerly. Techno smiled.

“That's what I'm counting on. Otherwise, you can not show up here."

Tommy stepped through the portal frame, waving to Techno until he was out of sight. He shielded his eyes with his hand from the harsh sunlight.

The sky was pale blue, with no cloud in sight. He jumped off the obsidian frame and was pleased to note the presence of pale green grass among which grew masses of various flowers.

Wilbur stood a few steps ahead of him, dusting himself off the red dust.

"We have to find a river or a lake, that was definitely too much time spent in that hellhole."

"Exactly. My sweat starts to smell like even more sweat." Sally muttered, looking around.

"We're in the right place, huh, Tommy?" Wilbur asked, turning his attention to the boy. The blond looked around with delight, glancing at the birches and oaks. This place was new and unknown.

He took a deep breath, smiling broadly.

He was beginning to understand Philza's love for travel even more than before.

"It's perfect."

At least that was what he thought for the first two minutes, until a quick brown streak emerged from the bushes, hitting his back with all itsmight, pushing him to the ground.

Tommy let out a groan of pain. Sally quickly gripped the weight on his back by the collar.

The short dark haired boy smiled at her as if he hadn't just made an attempt on Tommy's life. His oversized green shirt was buttoned crookedly in several places.

"What's up, boss man?" He asked enthusiastically, looking at them curiously.

"Oh gods, it’s a child." Sally grunted in mock disgust, releasing him and letting him fall to the ground with a loud groan.

Wilbur, who had been somewhat preoccupied with making sure that Tommy had survived the horrible attack, turned to the newcomer, eyeing him curiously.

"Hello, uh..."

"Tubbo!"

"Tubbo. Yes. We are pleased to meet a new person on our long journey. Is there a village nearby that could lend us its roof?"

Tubbo frowned and wrinkled his nose, looking at him almost as judgingly as Technoblade.

"I do not think so." He finally said with a shrug.

"Are you alone?" Tommy asked, managing to lift his dignity off the ground.

"Yes! Some traveler left a portal here a couple of weeks ago, but other than that, I'm very self-sufficient. Plus, I burned down the orphanage where I grew up. You know, you have to either live on the edge or not live at all."

“Yes, yes, this is the greatest of life truths. But you shouldn't be pushing me, that was really shit of you." Tommy said, immediately accepting his excuse.

Sally leaned close to Wilbur's ear, whispering something about how they had to keep him.

"Sorry boss man, I got a little excited." Tubbo smiled apologetically and held out his hand. Tommy shook it. "Awesome, we're best friends now!" He declared cheerfully.

Tommy shrugged, accepting his fate. Wilbur looked like he was considering going back to Nether.

"Are you going to stay here? You have to, there are bees here! Bees are the best thing in the world!"

"Right after women and me." Tommy interjected. Tubbo looked back.

"And them? Are they best too? "

“Only Sally, Wilbur is more like a sad wet fry. And he’s going bald."

"Oh, that's not good. You know, apparently every time you lie, your hairline recedes." Tubbo said good-naturedly. Wilbur looked at Sally, who smiled wickedly.

He counted down from ten, trying to calm his breathing.

Deep down, for the first time in a long time, he felt joy.

Chapter Text

The portal quickly became an integral part of their home, largely due to Tommy refusing to build it elsewhere. Wilbur agreed - after much arguing and long debates about safety.

When Tommy confirmed that Technoblade would defend the other side of the portal without letting stray Piglins use it, he became slightly more sympathetic to including the portal in their new home.

He also asked Tommy not to tell anyone about Technoblade, so as not to encourage Tubbo to travel to the Nether to meet the Piglin.

And, perhaps, out of his sheer aversion to the creature that had clearly adopted his brother. Tubbo was looking at Wilbur with respect, and he wasn't going to let the overgrown pig destroy it.

Tommy agreed to keep Techno's existence a secret, but only because the Piglin had asked him to do so as well, complaining about the people and his poor skills of handling peer pressure.

Tommy's thirteenth birthday passed as soon as it came, leaving him with an enormous chocolate cake, a bandana from Sally - the woman handed a similar one to Tubbo, explaining that they should have something representing their friendship - and a disc from Wilbur, with the word Mellohi scribbled on it.

"I know I'm not always a good brother, but I want you to know that I love you as much as I love music." The brunet told him, watching him slowly tear the decorative paper.

Wilbur has always been like this, with his perfectly chosen words, knowing what to say, which sentences would sound solemn enough for their meaning to be visible to the naked eye.

He clothed his expressions of love in various great words, preferring them to the simpler ones.

Music was everything to him. He liked to compare people to songs, to sing and play the guitar.

"I love you too, dork." Tommy muttered, staring at the music disc with undisguised delight. He raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. "Fist bump?"

Wilbur rolled his eyes and fist bumped him, then stood up and ruffled his hair as he passed him, for which he was met with a series of curses.

Neither of them really mentioned the day Tommy had promised to always stay by his side, sacrificing everything he loved should it come to that. From Wilbur's warm smiles and how he spent more time with him, Tommy had a feeling his brother was remembering the moment in every spare moment.

He didn't get a birthday letter from Philza. However, he was set about writing one himself, trying to find the right words to address his father. He wanted to prove his maturity to him. He hadn't cried in several years, devoting every moment of his weakness to Wilbur and focusing on him with a devoted loyalty.

He described their passage through the Nether and getting to know Tubbo, as well as information about their new temporary house, where they were to stay until a possible decision to return home.

Whenever Wilbur saw him writing something hurriedly on a piece of paper, he leaned over his shoulder with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

He took the letters to Phil and wrapped them in envelopes, promising to send them at the earliest opportunity.

Tommy didn't care about the missing answers. Most importantly, he was doing his job and keeping their dad informed about their adventures, assuring him that he was doing great at keeping Wilbur safe and happy.

After the main birthday party - dancing to Wilbur's music and sharing the cake, Tubbo dragged him by the hand towards the woods, promising Wilbur and Sally they would be back soon.

The boys half ran, half walked, in a direction known only to the brunette. Tommy scanned the trees as he watched the birds fly among them. A cuckoo sat on a branch, nibbling at its feathers and not paying much attention to the joyful screams of the two friends.

Finally, Tubbo stopped, facing the river.

"Close your eyes, boss man!" He screamed, turning Tommy around for extra effect.

"Big T, for Gods’ sake, do you want us to be eaten by mosquitoes? I have the best blood of all people, so all mosquitoes want me. Best blood Tommy, they call me. Almost like women. I am so wanted by-"

"Turn around!"

Tommy did as he was told, watching in awe the little lights fluttering above the grass. Fireflies perched on leaves and stones, illuminating the earth as if miniature, living stars.

Tubbo stood in front of him, his hands outstretched, holding a small metal compass.

“You know, I heard once that there are spells that make them point to a certain place or person. I thought we could own one so that we would never get lost. That way, no matter where, we can always find each other."

He laughed nervously as Tommy took the device from his hand and looked at it.

“Of course, it doesn't have any spells on it yet, but it might be useful in the future. For now, it only points north like other compasses, but in the future we can make it point to me."

Your Tubbo, the clumsy inscription on its side read. Tommy brought it close to his face, smiled, and showed it to Tubbo.

"It's great! I'll be like The Human GPS Junior now! Now you won't get away from me."

Tubbo smirked.

"How do you know that it is you who won’t get away from me?" He asked.

A similiar compass was hung around his neck, with a furiously scratched side and a patch that read Your Tommy on it.

They spent the evening chasing fireflies and rolling in the damp grass, fighting over which one was stronger, as befits brothers.

The next day, Tommy slipped out before dawn, passing through the portal and taking a deep breath of the hot air that was filling the Nether.

The dimension had a soothing effect on him, and the teenager was beginning to feel a connection with it. The rhythmic rumble became something he expected, as if he missed it in the Overworld. As the Piglins passed him, they looked at him in surprise when he greeted them in their language.

Handling all grunts, squeals and growls became easier for him, and if he didn’t remember what problems he had with learning these sounds, he would’ve assumed that they came to him naturally, and not because of many years of study, spent on many hoarseness and herbal teas to soothe his sore throat.

Technoblade was sitting in front of his home - and it was a home not only in the metaphorical sense of the word. The cave in which he settled was built over with an ornate facade, created with Tommy's help.

The blonde would never admit that his main task was to import the materials, and Techno, who for the first time in his life tried to play the architect-urbanist, turned out to be naturally capable of it - enough to rush Tommy with a roll of paper in his hand, waving it menacingly and squealing indignantly as the kid tried to refine his work with layers of cobblestone.

He had a book on his lap - the Art of War, gifted by Sally as a thank you for helping them in the Nether, to which Wilbur responded indignantly, insisting that they would have been well on their own. His tail waved rhythmically to the beat of the Nether's heart.

Tommy still wasn't sure if the legend was true, but every day he saw more and more life in a dimension that initially seemed dangerous and empty.

"Techno! The Blade! Your favorite runt has arrived!" He announced, running towards him waving his hands. The Piglin twitched in a characteristic gesture, then closed the book, setting it aside.

The pace of his tail wagging increased.

He went out to meet Tommy, sticking his hand out in front of his face. Tommy repeated the gesture, finally, after presenting his hands, touching them together in a familiar greeting.

"From now on I am a grown man! The greatest of all. Tommy the teenager, they call me."

"Since you are the biggest man now, I assume you are too big to ride Nutpig." Techno waved his hand carelessly towards the nearby Hoglin. The animal looked up at the sound of their voices, then went back to tearing apart the meat Techno had thrown at it.

"Holy shit, you weren't lying that she came after us."

"She hides every time she sees someone other than me." Techno didn't wince and make a face visibly, but it was done in the Piglin counterpart. He tilted his ears forward and pouted his lips to reveal his tusks.

"I can't believe you stole my daughter. My biggest love. How could you? I trusted you. So it's true. All men do is eat potatoes, learn foreign languages and lie."

Techno snorted in amusement, shaking his head.

"My hairline doesn't recede like Wilbur's."

"You don't have a hairline." Tommy replied helpfully, as if that explained it all. He jumped in place, clapping his hands. "Can you really help me get on her?"

There was an excitement in his voice that Techno had learned to love with all his heart. He nodded, taking his hand and slowly leading him towards the creature.

Nutpig had to trust him, especially after he had helped her to heal - and was protecting her from the hunting Piglins, by announcing to each of them that entering his territory and catching his animals would result in him treating them the same as the animals for which they hunt, but Tommy didn't need to know about the threats he made in his spare time.

The animal raised its muzzle, but instead of the Hoglin's usual blind rage, there was something like interest in its empty eyes. She sniffed Tommy's hand cautiously, who inadvertently - and with delight - noticed that her tusks were the size of his forearm.

She went back to eating, paying no more attention to their presence.

Technoblade very carefully helped the boy mount the animal, mentally praying to all gods known to him for their grace.

Nutpig grunted in displeasure as he grabbed her by her stiff mane to slowly guide her around the netherrack, but she showed to have no major problems with that.

"How did you do that?" Tommy asked delightedly, patting the creature on the sides and stroking the stiff fur. Techno shrugged.

“Trust you can easily buy with enough food, especially potatoes. Sun Tzu."

Tommy laughed, shaking his head from side to side. He grinned at Techno, who smiled back. A chuffing sound came out of his throat, and Tommy unknowingly began repeating it.

"Are you okay, king?" He asked, looking at Techno's widening eyes. The Piglin shook his head, not hiding his incredibly vigorous tail wagging.

"Gift. At home." He muttered with difficulty. He helped Tommy down from the Nutpig, patting her neck gratefully.

The animal trotted back to the meat and potatoes scattered on the ground, completely ignoring them.

Tommy let Techno take him on his shoulders, and rested happily against his head.

Inside, the Piglin sat him down in a bed made of wool and furs - brought by Tommy from the Overworld, partially stolen from Tubbo, which his friend didn't need to know - and began to bustle, searching for something with the intensity of a four year old looking at pretty lights.

Just like Tommy was interested in Piglin culture, wanting to get to know it as much as possible, absorbing knowledge about it and the Nether itself like a sponge, Techno was fascinated by the culture, customs and traditions of humans, trying to make his habits and way of life similar to them.

Although he preferred a lair to a bed, he didn’t have any preferences to the other pieces of furniture. He couldn't understand the concept of sorting his belongings, treating them as his horde and tossing as many as could fit into the same chest, but he no longer kept them on the floor.

He learned to separate the most valuable items from what he found useful or interesting by storing them on shelves.

He also had an entire cabinet devoted to potatoes, recipes for them, and utensils in which he could prepare, serve or cook them.

Finally, he gladly brought out the item he was looking for, presenting it proudly to Tommy.

It was an emerald hung on a gold chain ended with a clip. The crystal itself was framed by thin gold twigs that twisted around it to hold it on the chain.

"Friendship Emerald." The Piglin explained, handing it to the boy. "You don't have pierced ears - we'll fix it; someday we'll fix it; once Wilbur doesn't bother us anymore - so I gave it a different clip."

"This is fantastic. Where did you get it?"

“When I was younger I got it as a gift from another human. When I was still in the Bastion."

Tommy frowned.

"I thought people weren't allowed in the Bastions?"

"They aren’t." Techno agreed, and his gaze went distant. He shook his head and stamped a few times, shaking off his reverie. His ears lifted expectantly.

"It’s perfect." Tommy smiled broadly as he pinned it to his ear. It was fragile and light, just a gentle tug on his ear.

"Happy growing up day, Tommy. May the Nether protect you."

Tommy cuddled up to him, imitating his chuffing again..

Technoblade needed no more for his instincts to overcome him again.

It took Tommy another twelve hours to come back from the Nether, spent on being decorated with gold as if he were a Christmas tree, and listening to Techno's deep voice, who was struggling to tell him stories he had heard from the older Brutes - there weren't many, because he was a Brute himself, so he never had the opportunity to have a normal childhood; and they all ended in a bloody and brutal moral.

Techno looked like a kicked puppy or a sad deer during his wrestling with his instincts - his ears drooping in that sad, pathetic way, and he looked around for Tommy, not understanding why he would want to go back to Wilbur.

The boy managed to get through the portal, doing it silently, like a true master of stealth.

Tubbo was sitting in an armchair, his legs and back resting on the armrests. In his lap he had a sheet of paper, on which he drew one of two possible things - it was either a nuclear weapon blueprint or a garden filled with bees.

"Where's Wil and Sally?" Tommy asked as he quietly entered the room. Tubbo didn't look at him, too focused on his work, but frowned as if trying to remember the answer.

“They said they had something to do in the village. Some surprise."

"I hate surprises."

"You love them, you just don't want to admit it." The brunet said, starting to aggressively press the crayon to the paper. After a few seconds of almost destructive smearing, he lifted the drawing up, proudly showing it to his friend. "What do you think?"

"That abstraction is definitely not one of your strong points?"

"Oh, fuck you! This is my house plan. When we get older and Wilbur and Sally get old and walk with canes like all old people do, we will move out and have some super great and amazing adventures. And then we'll build our own farm and keep bees there."

"And cows." Tommy began to recognize the silhouettes of various farm animals in his best friend's scribbles. Or he just knew him well enough that he learned to recognize exactly what his creativity was supposed to portray.

“Cows can be there too, we can still negotiate this issue. And, of course, we will have our own bench, from which we will have the best view of the sunset in the world."

“We'll have to build it close to the fireflies. Maybe near a river."

Tubbo nodded enthusiastically.

"And we must have a Nether portal." Tommy added at his reaction. The brunet frowned, looking at him without conviction.

“I know you came from Nether, but I’ve heard it's a bit dangerous. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Good? It's a great idea! Simply phe-no-me-nal! You underestimate my genius, so you just have to listen to me and do what I say. Then you will definitely not have to worry about anything! I'll take care of everything!"

Tubbo set the drawing aside. He grabbed Tommy's hands and looked him straight in the eye.

“Look, boss man, I know you are a Piglin hybrid, so the Nether is close and important to you, but a portal in the bedroom wall is not the best life decision. Not that I'm questioning Wilbur's choices, but I think such things should be a little further from where people live, just in case."

Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"A Piglin hybrid?" After a few seconds of silence, he burst out into a momentous laugh. He shook his head, staring at his friend in disbelief. “No, Big T, you got it all wrong. When I manifest, I will grow wings, just like my dad."

"But you spend a lot of time in the Nether?" Tubbo said hesitantly. Confidence was slowly draining from his voice.

"Because it's an interesting dimension, innit?" Tommy asked, smiling broadly. “Anyway, most of what they say about it are stereotypes and fairy tales of inexperienced travelers. The Nether is fucking awesome. Interesting and has so much to offer- "

"But sometimes you talk like a Piglin."

Tommy tilted his head questioningly. He tapped his fingers on the surface of the table on which he sat down.

He felt as if he could feel Wilbur's presence leaning over him with a pleasant but slightly false smile. He stared at Tubbo, trying to justify to himself that lying to him about the existence of Techno was a good decision.

He took a deep breath.

"What can I say? I am a man of many talents. Maybe I knew a Piglin once and he taught me?"

Tubbo snorted, and stared at him amused. The uncertainty slowly turned into an ironic disbelief.

“Tommy, come on, you can tell such fairy tales to the preschoolers. Maybe you also have a domesticated creeper? Are you feeding it sulfur cookies?" He laughed, shaking his head.

Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the slam of the front door.

After a moment, Wilbur entered the room, looking at the teenagers with a pleasant smile. He looked better than he had in the last few weeks. His glasses were almost falling off the tip of his nose, and his hair was disheveled by the wind.

Less than three days earlier, Tommy had consoled him after one of his nightmares, assuring him that there were no Phantoms or other monsters outside, whispering promises that the crows his brother muttered about in horror were only a part of his dream.

The night before Tommy's birthday, Wilbur grabbed his hand, asking him to remember his promise - after all, the hybrid manifestation period began in the teenage years.

His brother whispered, looking like he was possessed, hugging Tommy a little too tightly but staying quiet enough that the two of their roommates wouldn't hear.

"If I grow wings, we'll cut them off together." Tommy promised softly, embracing him as if he wanted to save him from all the evil in the world around them. Wilbur was on his knees, resting his head on his chest and closing his eyes tightly as if trying to defend himself from his gaze.

Wilbur stood in the doorway looking genuinely happy.

"I'd like you to meet someone." He said with warmth and kindness. Sally stood at his side, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Behind her, slowly and uncertainly, a boy leaned out, not much younger than Tommy, with sunset-red hair and a face adorned with freckles.

He raised his hand and waved hesitantly at the teenagers in the living room.

"This is our son, Fundy."

Tommy looked up, looking uncertainly for Wilbur's gaze, but his brother missed it, staring at the boy with a kind smile.

He clenched his fists and ignored the burning sensation crawling in his insides and throat.

A thought. An irrational one, filled with panic and disbelief, but it was being rooted in his brain nontheless, slowly but surely, like a parasite; like a weed in a beautiful garden.

Tommy was being replaced.

Chapter Text

"I just can't believe he could do this to me!" Tommy stopped fiddling with Techno's tail, staring at his friend, searching for understanding. "We were happy already, why do we need someone else?"

Technoblade snorted as a sign of universal understanding, though his ears twitched as they always did when he was intrigued.

"I didn't know Sally was expecting." He said slowly, folding his ears back as Tommy burst out laughing in surprise.

"Yuck, don't even try to hammer an idea like that into my head. I'm too young, Techno, you know? Do you want to have a bad reputation? I’m a minor."

The Piglin didn't seem to understand what was wrong with his question, so he just looked at the blonde without being impressed by his words.

"I thought human families were a… Closed kind of relationships." He muttered, touching his fingertips one by one, then closing his hand into a fist.

Tommy shrugged.

“They usually are. But there is also such a thing as adoption, Techno-blade."

"Huh." The Piglin went back to peeling potatoes, wagging his tail every now and then, so that it tickled Tommy's face. "So Piglins and humans really have a lot in common."

"In what sense?" Tommy reached for a peeled potato, for which he was smacked with a spoon.

"Don't eat raw ones, you'll get sick." Techno had warned him, as if he didn’t made him eat raw meat. His ears twitched. “Piglins choose their sounder members. This is something very important to us, because when it is done in the right way, it means being sounder-mates for life. You have to come up with an official proposal and wait for another Piglin to accept it, but there are also technical considerations, such as an analysis of whether they are a good candidate to join the sounder..."

"A few years ago, before we became a sounder, that big Piglin offered you to join theirs, didn't they?"

Technoblade stopped peeling potatoes, freezing in place. He grunted nervously.

His tail curled and his ears drooped.

"It would seem so."

“They were huge, bigger than you. I thought you were big."

"It happens." Piglin muttered, sounding increasingly nervous.

“After you got your kill counter necklace out, they started acting like an asshole. Did it bother them that much that even though you’re shorter, you’re more efficient?"

Technoblade looked at him in disbelief. He grunted, trying to mask the smile that pressed against his lips.

"I will tell you, when you get older." He promised, returning to his previous work. Tommy frowned.

“They offered you to join the sounder and then rejected you. It's a bit unfair. And they seemed terribly fucking upset. What were they even saying to you?"

“Well, the Nether has a legend. It is closely related to the Bastions and is known by practically every Piglin. Something like a story acting as a warning." He began cautiously, glancing at Tommy, who crossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his head on his hands. The blonde nodded, encouraging him to continue. “Supposedly, there was once a Piglin who killed his entire sounder without sparing anyone. It went berserk, some told it was cursed by the Nether herself. There was a rumor that it was hearing thousands of voices calling for bloodshed. The Piglins with a high kill count are disturbing, because no one wants to risk history repeating itself."

"It's unfair. You know what Nether is like. I know what the fuck Nether is like. Sometimes you have to fight to live." Tommy's lips twitched and his eyes narrowed. “I don't like this story. You know what? Surely they must have had a reason. I bet their sounder was a bunch of assholes."

Technoblade put down the bowl of potatoes and the knife, then embraced Tommy, putting him on his lap. He bumped their foreheads together and began to make soft chuffs.

“You have a good heart, Tommy. I hope it will always stay that way. Some are just cruel and not as good as you. Not every person you meet deserves forgiveness and understanding."

Tommy still looked offended at the entire Piglin race and whoever had invented the myth. He looked at Techno, grabbing his muzzle in both hands so that white eyes looked at his blue ones.

“But no one becomes bad just to be bad. It's always about something. There’s always a reason."

Technoblade, had he had pupils, would probably have looked to the side.

“According to some versions, it was just a curse. Sometimes people are possessed by madness."

Tommy narrowed his eyes.

"Nah."

"Heh?"

"Nah. I bet their sounder was cruel to them, so they got some good ol’ revenge. Maybe they were a Protector, like you, and their sounder hurt their runt. I read in a book from Wilbur that Bruts go crazy when someone harms their loved ones."

"Tommy, I really don't like the fact that you read books that treat my people like animals." Techno muttered with amusement, as if he weren't mostly related to a pig. His tail curled around Tommy's wrist as he tilted his head to the side.

“So, Piglins choose their sounder. People do that with their families too." Tommy started again, ending their conversation. He sensed that Techno didn't want to continue it. Stories of the bastions and the reluctance of other Piglins towards him, while fascinating to Tommy, made him visibly discomfortable, and the teenager knew better than to push.

“It would seem to be like that. What a fantastic perceptiveness."

“I know, Tommy the Hawk-eye, thay call me. Maybe if I get wings, they'll be falcon's wings? I could help you hunt and they would be so big I could lift you up in the air."

Techno's expression and demeanor said loudly that he doubted it, but instead of expressing his doubts, he nodded his head.

“I have always wanted to fly. It would be an interesting experience." He admitted, looking at Tommy fondly.

The blond nodded.

"I can't fucking wait to do that. You know, Tubbo thought I was a Piglin. Strange, isn't it? It's obvious I'll have wings like my dad."

Something at the back of Techno's mind seemed to jump into place. He looked at Tommy, studying him carefully, as he chose the right words.

“What if you were a Piglin? Would you be disappointed?" He asked carefully, lifting one ear. Tommy pressed his lips into a narrow line and bowed his head, avoiding his gaze.

“You know, my whole life I’ve been set on getting wings. It wouldn't be bad, but I just know who I'm going to take after. You know how this type of magic works, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course. You will have the greatest wings in the world."

Tommy grinned, but it didn't seem as enthusiastic as usual. There was a deep sadness in his eyes, as if he knew something that was hurting him inside.

Techno took him off his lap and went back to making potatoes for dinner. His tail dropped and his wagging became more forced.

"Maybe I'll be a double hybrid. I know I‘ll have wings. But I don't remember hearing about a Piglin hybrid before, other than a few urban legends."

“True, the number of such hybrids can be counted on the fingers of one hand. Sometimes magic doesn't even catch on, you know, Piglins don't really count as hybrids. And there aren't too many that are open to creating such a strong bond with people." Techno muttered.

He looked at Tommy, who looked ready to reassure him that he would be happy to be a Piglin. He shook his head, snorting.

“But it's obvious you will have wings. Just a thought. Tubbo should try to get to know you better, after all, being a bird's brain is the basis of your personality."

Techno knew that even if Tommy had sworn he wanted to share traits with him, he would be lying. He was made to fly, no matter how much Techno’s instincts cried out in despair in spite of it.

They ate their meal in a pleasant silence. Soon, his friend started talking.

Tommy told him about his adventures with Tubbo - about a stick fort built in the forest, about a well that seemed to be bottomless, and about how they had to jump into the water to escape a swarm of angry bees.

And for something completely different, Tommy had brought him a jar of honeysometime before.

He grumbled at Fundy, about how much time Wilbur spent with him. That he was only talking about him, ruffling his hair the same way he ruffled Tommy’s before, singing him songs that Tommy hadn't heard in years, and seemed so much happier with Tommy out of the way.

Techno wanted to get out of the portal and wring the neck of this pathetic unfulfilled musician like a wet cloth. On the other hand, his selfish, instinctive part purred contentedly when Tommy came over to hang out with him more than usual.

Unfortunately, however, Techno liked to consider himself the responsible person in Tommy's life, so finally, probably two or three months since Fundy came to their house, and the blonde came back to the Nether with a disgruntled expression, he stopped knitting and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"You need to talk to Wilbur."

"I don't know what you mean, Techno." Tommy muttered, grumpy as a four-year-old child. The Piglin looked at him with pity.

“You don't like being alone. I'm not saying you're weak.” He cut him off before the teenager could sound outraged. “It's okay to know your needs. It pains you that Wilbur is not giving you time."

Tommy threw his hands in the air. Techno noted with dissatisfaction that the blonde easily transformed his sadness into anger and frustration, as if he didn’t allow himself to cry.

“He only talks about Fundy! Oh, my little champion, mi mi mi, he threw the tissue straight into the garbade can, he's so talented! Fundy, my one pride in life, come with me to the meetings with Sally that I never took even Tommy to. Who is Tommy anyway? Oh, who needs him if I have you!"

Tommy put his face in his hands and started screaming. Technoblade saw through the window as a Ghast that was flying in the area changed direction at the sound of the teenager's frustration.

"Tommy. Wilbur is now a father. Maybe he doesn't even notice that you feel like this?"

"But that's the problem!" Tommy looked at him, his face turning red. "I know Wilbur has a son now! I know I’m not his prio-ri-ty anymore! Fundy did nothing wrong! He brings me gifts all the time and asks for stories and is kind and tries to make friends! Wil is happy! I don't know why it bothers me so much! I’m his protector, I should want it!"

Techno very carefully and gently squeezed his shoulders, bringing him down from his spiral of doom. Tommy took his hand, pressing it against his, and began mimicking his deep breaths.

You shouldn't be his protector, Techno wanted to say.

Come and stay with me, leave him behind and don't look back. I'll take care of you. I can provide you with a good home I can love you like he never has, has pressed on his lips, lined with instinct and a deep love for the blonde.

"You can't solve any problem just by yelling in another dimension." He said instead, reassuring the blonde. "Talk to him, okay?"

The teenager nodded, heading with some resignation towards the portal. Techno watched him sadly, sighing heavily. Nutpig walked over to him, nudging his side and demanding more food. He patted the nape of her neck, staring at the blurring silhouette of Tommy in the portal.

If only people were as simple as Bastions were, with their strict rules and thankless lifestyle.

Tommy arrived in the Overworld with new motivation and a thrill of excitement. He left the room intended for the portal with a quick and proud step, looking around the rooms. Outside the window he noticed Tubbo playing outside with the bees. His yellow brown striped sweater was patterned with honey, but knowing his friend, Tommy could tell it was intentional.

Especially judging his delighted face when, with an alarming stoicism - after all it was Tubbo, a ball of pure chaos - he calmly watched the insects landing on him, moving so slowly and carefully as not to scare them away.

"Are you looking for something, gremlin child?" The teenager turned, smiling brightly at the sight of Sally.

Her red hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, somewhat like a fox’s tail. She wore a shirt with puffed sleeves, rolled up to work, and dark brown pants. There was a green scarf with a mass of fringes around her waist.

Tommy sometimes thought she looked unnatural on land. It was as if her place was in the rough waters of the ocean.

She probably was capable of fighting the sea monsters empty-handed. There was something of a pirate about her.

"Where's WIl?" He asked, looking over her shoulder as if he expected his brother to magically emerge from behind her back.

“He took Fundy out for ice cream. That little rascal has already started proclaiming himself the king of ice cream. Something about starting his own business. I think there is something after you in the way he is. Maybe he'll be as big of a scammer as my favorite brother in law... What's wrong?" She frowned, her face turning into a concerned look.

She had more freckles on her cheeks and forehead. The sun was serving her, and it was evident. Overcast weather prevailed in their home village, as if it matched Wilbur's mood.

Tommy shook his head.

“You shouldn't worry about a man as big as me. I have all my wives for it."

“Ah yes, how could I have forgotten. I hope you will forgive me."

Tommy pretended to think, but finally nodded.

"Your sins are forgiven you, my dear and humble friend." He announced good-naturedly.

Sally smiled and rolled her eyes. She nodded towards the kitchen.

"Do you want a pancake? I know Techno probably fed you, but a man shouldn't just live off potatoes."

"Maybe I'm just built differently?" Tommy asked defiantly. The woman sighed, smiling slyly.

“So the chocolate sauce will probably go to waste. What a pity, the pancakes with it and with some fresh fruit are so good."

"I didn't say I wouldn't eat them, hey!" Tommy headed for the kitchen, shoving her aside. The redhead laughed sonorously, watching with satisfaction as he devoured the meal she had prepared as quickly as if he were inhaling it.

"People will think we're not feeding you." He showed her middle finger in response.

He felt a tender feeling of sympathy for Techno, who would’ve never been able to recreate the gesture, considering his lack of five fingers.

How sad must life be for someone who couldn't convey so many words with such a simple gesture?

I'd die for my middle fingers, Tommy thought.

"What's the worst word you know?" He asked aloud instead. Sally smiled slyly.

When Wilbur and Fundy returned home, Tommy exchanged knowing looks with Sally, chuckling to himself.

The boy jumped over to them, embracing his mother with the joy and confidence most children should have in their parents. Wilbur walked over to them, giving them both a quick kiss on the cheek.

They looked like the perfect family.

The unpleasant feeling in Tommy's stomach returned.

He was redundant in this perfect idyllic picture.

Like a blur on a camera lens, he only seemed to disturb and disrupt their moment.

Maybe it was better if he swallowed his pride and stood aside, where his place now seemed to be.

“I saw a book on redstone! I think I’ll become an engineer in the future! Tommy, would you like to be an engineer with me?"

The blonde jumped back in surprise, looking at the redhead suspiciously, as if looking for a trick. The boy was jumping slowly from foot to foot, and a blush began to creep across his cheeks.

“It might come in handy for pranks. We can become the best pranksters in the world." He added timidly.

Tommy swallowed loudly, gritting his teeth. Wilbur looked at him expectantly. A shadow of concern crossed his face.

"Of course. You, me and Tubbo. We’ll be a great team. A dream team, even." Tommy forced out, choking back a burst of anger that crept up his throat. He felt guilty as Fundy beamed and began to pull Sally by hand into his room, telling her vigorously about the construction and mechanization of utilities. Tommy wasn't sure what most of the words meant, but he wasn't about to ask questions.

"Tommy? Everything's all right? You're acting unusual." Wilbur noticed. He put his hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever, do you? Gods, I knew you were spending too much time with this Piglin. He probably infected you with some mutant form of swine flu."

Tommy brushed his hand away.

“It's okay, Wilbur. Can we talk?"

“I'm a bit tired after the trip with Fundy. Maybe tomorrow? Is it serious?"

"Of course you're tired." Tommy grunted, following his words with a few piglining curses - if you asked Technoblade, he would reply that he still had no idea where Tommy had picked them up from.

Wilbur looked at him with concern and a little frustration.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Tommy looked at him intensely.

"Can we just go outside?"

The brunet uncertainly nodded his head. His posture became different, stiffer, as always when he felt discomfort and dissatisfaction. When Wilbur was frustrated and didn’t know what was happening, and his pride kept him from seeing things clearly, he began to mechanically tense his back and clench his shoulders, giving himself more solemnity and elegance. He looked like a proud general looking down on his subordinates with displeasure.

They sat down on the swing Sally had built weeks earlier - she was excellent at working with wood, and Tommy was starting to have his little conspiracy theory that she was secretly related to Technoblade, with how talented they both were at constructing things.

Tommy stuck his legs out in front of him, shuffling them across the gravel. Wilbur rocked gently, pushing back and forth with his heels driven into the ground.

"Tommy, what’s with you?" He asked, looking suspiciously at his brother, who had shrunk into himself.

"I don’t know."

"How can you not know?"

Tommy took a deep breath. His ears reddened so much that it was visible despite the dark sky.

"I don’t know! You are happy and you have a family now! I don't know what's wrong, okay? I'm angry and I don't know why! I hate Fundy!"

"Tommy, that’s your nephew!" Wilbur stared at him in disbelief, as if he didn’t recognize him. The teenager bit his tongue to hold back his tears. It was as if his voice would break at any moment, and he with it.

"I hate him! He replaced me! Why are you happy now, Wil? Why couldn't you be happy with me? Am I just not enough? Why can’t I be enough?" He threw his hands out in front of him and began gesturing lively. The corners of his mouth twitched.

Wilbur stared at him silently.

“I just want to be enough. Why couldn't you be so happy with me? I don't want to be unnecessary."

Tommy paused, swallowing the lump that slowly appeared in his throat. He stared at the ground, frowning in artificially induced anger.

Wilbur got off the swing and crouched down in front of him, to be on his eye-level.

“Tommy, why didn't you tell me right away? Of course I'm happy, but only because you’re here too." He grabbed Tommy's hand, squeezing it to cheer him up. He smiled lovingly and warmly, but there was a silent pain in his eyes. "Tommy, of course I need you. All I really need is you. You are the only one who will never leave me."

He started tapping his index finger on the open palm of the blonde.

“You have a friend now. We have a real family. I don't love Fundy more than you, you’re my brother." He looked at him, waiting for Tommy to look up from the ground to look him straight in the eye. "There you are. Tommy, I promise you, you're enough for me. You are the only good thing that will never pass me by. The only constant in my life. Of course I need you. And I will never stop."

"I love you, WIl. Although you are a dick sometimes."

Wilbur laughed and hugged the blonde in a firm and confident embrace.

"I love you too, you problematic gremlin. I promise Tommy, nothing could ever replace you. "

Chapter Text

Fundy, with a grin on his face, handed Sally a sand cupcake. If Tommy hadn't known the boy was adopted, he would have assumed they were blood-related.

Shoulder-length red hair - Fundy grew his to look even more like Sally, especially since, according to him, she had the aura of a dangerous pirate; Sally, in turn, let Tubbo cut off hers - and their freckled faces, as if kissed by the sun.

Fundy tried to look like Wilbur too, stealing a guitar from his room in his spare time, and proudly presenting it to Tommy, asking for lessons.

The blond knew the basics, and his nephew picked up on them quickly. The teenager made a deal with him to keep their lessons a secret - after spending months resisting the boy, Tommy wanted to atone for his behavior in any way possible.

So Wilbur believed with all his heart that his son had a talent for music and the guitar all by himself, without anyone's help.

He walked around as pompous as a peacock, bragging about Fundy to everyone he met, while the boy gave Tommy uncertain and shy smiles, unaccustomed to so much praise.

He also fit in with Tubbo and Tommy's friendship - Fundy was like a missing piece, slipping into place and completing the puzzle. All three of them were cunning and loved jokes. Tubbo and Fundy were fascinated by engineering while Tommy served as their most dedicated supporter.

When Tommy gave Technoblade news of their adventures, the Piglin looked pleased, but - perhaps thanks to Tommy's threats - he never said the hated "I told you so", for which the blonde was extremely grateful.

Their lives were taking on a pleasant slow pace.

Tommy thought more and more about how he might get used to it - a life without adventures, with the closest family in one place, being at the center of their lives, not standing on the sidelines, as he had previously feared. His own home - with Wilbur, Tubbo, Fundy and Sally; and of course Techno, this place wouldn't be full without him.

Sally threw a ball of mud at Tommy, laughing as she snapped him out of his thoughts.

"You're Wilbur's brother, you shouldn't think so hard, because you might hurt yourself." She joked, meeting the breath-of-disbelief from her fiancé, who jumped on her, knocking her to the ground and tickling her mercilessly, not stopping even when she kicked him in the jaw.

Fundy grimaced, sticking out his tongue and making a groan of disgust.

Tommy brought him closer, wrapping his arm around him. The redhead tried to push him as the remnants of mud fell onto his blouse.

"You're dirty!" He accused the blond, who generously ignored him.

"My dear nephew, someday you will understand the beauty of women's love." After being prodded by Tubbo, he groaned painfully. "Or not! But, you see, you shouldn't frown upon how Wil and Sal are gross. Me and my many wives-"

Fundy laughed as Tubbo shoved a ball of mud into Tommy's mouth. The teenager looked his friend straight in the eye and swallowed it, then lunged at him as revenge.

The brunet jumped aside and began to run away.

"Fundy, help me!" Tommy shouted, pointing to his friend, who was darting through the trees. The boy jumped in place and, with a sly smile, lunged in front of Tubbo's feet, who tripped over him and landed on the ground with a loud groan of surprise.

"That's unfair! There's two of you!"

"Everything is fair In love and war." Tommy quoted, remembering one of Techno's tales. Tubbo stopped, rolled over onto his back, and assumed a seductive pose.

"Wow, Tommy, I didn't know you were thinking of me like that, boss man."

"Wilbur, Tubbo is being weird!"

"Wilbur, Tommy is eating mud!" The brunet shouted back.

"Again?" They heard Wilbur's resigned voice. All three laughed. They returned to the couple left by the river, giggling among themselves, parodying their loving behavior.

Sally chased them around the meadow, flip-flop in hand, mocking with a laugh their panicked screams.

Yes, this routine suited Tommy.

He spent the next evening at Techno's house, telling him about the little automated farm that Tubbo and Fundy were working on. The piglin chuffed contentedly, nodding his head from time to time to show that he was listening.

Tommy was once again adorned with all possible gold that could be worn. He also made some promises to ask Wilbur about the possibility of having his ear pierced, to which Techno responded with giving him fifteen more necklaces.

They sat on seats made of a mass of blankets and pillows. Tommy was leaning against Nutpig; he pleaded with Techno to let him take her inside.

The Hoglin was well used to the two of them - she liked Techno because he gave her food and spent most of his time tolerating her existence, and she loved Tommy, because he was surprisingly good with animals and; what Techno deduced from the Hoglin's frequent fawning on a teenager; he knew perfectly well in which place to pet.

Before that, the Piglin would never have looked at it that way; imagining a tamed Hoglin seemed impossible. They were just some stupid animals known for their brutality and hatred of everything that moved.

Piglins had hunted them for eons, chasing them from their territories because they were too brutal to breed.

Perhaps Tommy was an exception.

Despite being human, he seemed to be a part of the Nether. He looked natural among the red wastelands and hot lava lakes.

The Nether, a land known for its brutality and hatred towards humans, arousing fear and aversion in them, became a playground for a boy with blue eyes and hair as bright as the sun's rays.

In a dimension that didn't know the sky, Tommy seemed to be the sun it always needed.

Technoblade preferred the Overwold. He had felt out of place among the other Piglins, with a curiosity that the elders contemptuously described as human-like.

He was empathetic, although it wasn't always evident - Tommy himself realized that only people who were as close to him as he could recognize how tender and loving he was. He preferred silence, but Tommy knew he was being heard. He recognized his friend's gestures and looks that seemed to reveal his true nature.

He devoured books with a curiosity that many people lacked. He liked to learn, he also had a competitive spirit, striving to be the best and giving up alarmingly quickly when something went wrong - usually, the teenager would stand by his side, trying to help him master the skill he had a problem with, encouraging him to keep trying and leave his comfort zone.

Techno saw the sky and green grass once, but they seemed to take a place in his heart, leaving behind a hole in a shape that only they could fill.

Piglins looked after their sounder. They were very protective and there was no shortage of love among them, but they were closed communities, with dislike or outright hatred for everything else.

Technoblade, although he was wary of strangers, was curious and empathetic. When he found out about wolves, he wanted to know every fact about them.

When Tommy brought him a photo of a puppy, Techno burst into tears, promising the animal in the picture that he would protect it until his last breath.

While the other Piglins would end up hunting animals, Techno loved them, despairing that he couldn't keep them in the Nether.

He accepted Nutpig, who would normally be nothing more than another meal. At first, he made sure she was around and out of the reach of the hunters due to Tommy's strange attachment to the beast.

But he soon became attached to her himself, against everything his nature dictated.

Techno loved the Overworld, the world created by humans.

Tommy was fascinated by the Nether in the same way, fearlessly climbing islands that were floating above lava lakes, as if he had been created for the challenging terrain.

He climbed slopes, leaped over the treetops, marveling at the soft material that covered them instead of leaves, rocked on blue vines hanging high above the ground, and dashed along a path lined with soul sand after he discovered that Techno had shoes enchanted with soul-speed.

He stood out from the cruel environment and at the same time fit as if he were the last piece of the puzzle; as if the Nether herself loved him.

Nutpig purred contentedly as Tommy leaned against her, scratching the spot behind her ear.

Technoblade wagged his tail, watching them silently. The gold that Tommy was decorated with rang with his every move, making the Piglin's ears twitch and his tail gaining momentum.

Tommy smiled and closed his eyes.

In Overworld, on the other hand, Wilbur sat in his room, tuning his guitar and humming under his breath. The rain was hitting the window panes with a pleasant and reassuring sound.

"Tubbo just lost at poker. To himself. and Fundy is down after the sugar rush. I told you to put the sugar bag on the higher shelf." Sally said. Even though he had his back to her, he could feel her soft smile. Sharp but subtle, that made his legs buckle beneath him.

"He ate a whole bag of sugar?" He asked incredulously as he stretched the string. Sally laughed as she rocked on her heels. Thunder was heard in the distance.

They both grimaced, regretting the lack of a lightning rod. Thunderstorms in this area were rare, so lightning rods were extremely expensive as they were not very profitable to produce.

"Maybe we should've listened to Tommy and used cobblestone to build the house." Wilbur muttered. He could feel Sally shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'd rather not throw up at the sight of my own house, thank you very much."

"I'm just saying that Tommy was right that wood isn't the best material."

“It looks nice and cozy. But I can quickly make it impossible for you to feel like that, if you keep arguing with me." She threatened. She walked over to him, resting her head on his shoulder and staring absentmindedly out the window.

“Sometimes I miss that old shithole of ours. My mother sends me letters every day. I already have a whole collection of culinary books from her, because she always includes one recipe in each letter. So that your boys eat well. As if I'm supposed to be the one cooking. There's a reason why I'm dating you."

"Oh? And I thought it was for my intellect. \"

“Certainly not for your sense of humor. You should invest in better jokes." She teased.

"Am I a good housewife?"

"The assessment process is still ongoing." The woman replied, cuddling against him.

Ravens sat on the trees opposite, looking curiously towards the house, crouching on the branches and twisting their heads.

One of them spread its black wings, making low croaks.

“Tommy might manifest his traits soon. My mother said that during this period you have to be especially prepared for anything." She said, looking at the birds.

Wilbur tightened the E string, cursing under his breath as it came loose.

"What wings do you think he'll end up with?" She asked, smiling at the thought of two ugly stumps covered with fluff - a classic look for any avian hybrids before their wings were covered with feathers. “I'm betting on the bluebird. Or a peacock. It would be funny if it had peacock's wings."

"It doesn't really matter."

"What do you mean?" Sally moved away from him, but still left her hand on his shoulder. She frowned at Wilbur with uncharacteristic seriousness.

“Tommy's not going to use them. He told me he would want to get rid of them."

Sally pursed her lips into a narrow line, a habit she had acquired ever since Fundy had entered their lives.

In the old days, he would just burst into anger, like a fire fueled with oil. But now, she was patient and able to control her emotions better, though her voice still trembled in barely concealed rage.

"So you want your brother to hurt himself irreparably?"

"Tommy just doesn't want to leave us like our father."

"You. You mean leave you. I'm not scared of him leaving."

“Sally, Tommy trusts Phil, so he'll grow wings anyway. He offered to cut them off when that happens."

"Wilbur, you and Tommy are codependent on each other."

The string broke.

Wilbur turned to look at Sally in disbelief. He reached out his hand towards her, backing away in hurt and fear as she flinched.

Wilbur knew his loved one. He knew this woman more than she knew herself. He knew how she functioned, what habits she had.

The person looking at him was a stranger.

"What?" He asked, searching for his Sally in her eyes, filled with internal conflict. The one that excused his fears, one that reassured him that he wasn't mad, that he wasn't alone.

“You're hurting him. Wilbur, Tommy loves you more than he loves himself. What you have is not healthy. This kid is fucking dependent on you."

"Tommy wants this."

"No, you want it. Tommy doesn't know what he wants, because you won't let him be his own person. He becomes your extension. He's a kid, he has no idea there's anything wrong with it. Tommy is driven by what will make you satisfied, not what he wants."

"I love him-"

"And I don't doubt it. I know you do." She cut him off, clenching her fists. Her left hand, the one that was on his arm just a few minutes earlier, was trembling. Sally looked him straight in the eye as if she was daring him to try to look away from her and avoid her gaze. “But your love hurts him. Tommy wants what you want because he can't be himself. He loves you too much to deny you or make you sad."

She took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice still wobbly under control.

"But for gods' sake, I can guarantee you that if you cut his wings off, you'll cross the line of no return. I can fucking promise you that Tommy will absolutely never forgive you for this. You're an adult, Wilbur. For once in your life, act like it."

Wilbur's fingers tightened around the neck of the guitar. The thunder sounded closer.

“You don't understand because your whole family is human! If he grew wings, he'll do what Phil does! Sally, he's a copy of him! Is it a sin not to want to be alone?"

The woman looked at him regretfully. The brunet opened his eyes wide, standing up and walking towards her.

"That's not what I meant!" He assured in horror. “I know I have you. But Tommy's my family. I don't want to lose him to what I lost Phil to."

Sally looked like she was struggling with her own thoughts. She looked away, staring at the floor. Her lower lip was trembling.

"Do you trust yourself enough not to hurt him if he grows wings?"

"What? He's my brother! I would never hurt him!"

"No. Do you trust yourself enough that if he will grow wings, you will let him spread them and do what he wants?"

Wilbur lowered his head, avoiding any reply. Sally took a deep breath. She sounded like she was choking on her own words.

"If you're afraid that Tommy will leave it all, that he'll end up like Phil, then make sure he never gets wings in the first place." She whispered brokenly.

Wilbur looked at her with tears in his eyes, taking a step back in surprise.

Sally stared at the floor in disbelief. Wilbur had never seen anyone hate themself this much before.

"Hey, Techno told me to tell you that he found a hairpin for Sally as a thank you for last week's pancakes." Tommy marched into the room, announcing his presence with a loud shout.

He winced as he saw Sally in Wilbur's arms, her head resting on his chest. His brother's hair was disheveled and Sally's dress was crumpled where she had clamped the fabric in her fists.

He backed away with a squeal of disgust.

"Prime, people! There are children in this house! Absolutely awful. Gross, both of you. By the way, I started writing a book, How to sex. Because I have a lot of knowledge about this, you know, because of all my wives. If you need advice, Wil, I offer help. We can discuss this later." He said, slowly walking backwards. As soon as he was in the corridor, he ran towards his room. "Tubbo! Wilbur and Sally were havi-"

Sally started shaking in Wilbur's arms. Her incredulous laugh slowly turned into sobs.

Wilbur held her, hiding his face in her curls.

The thunder sounded closer.

Despite the storm, the evening went by calmly. Tommy wrestled with Tubbo, considering waking Fundy to have more strength on his side - his friend was extremely strong for such a short person.

"Boss man, I can break you half like a bamboo stick."

"Stop underestimating me, it makes you look stupid."

Tubbo swung Tommy over his shoulder, laughing out loud as he fell, groaning on the bed.

He lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling where fluorescent stars had been hung a few weeks earlier.

"If you could change something about your appearance, what would it be?" He asked, elbowing him in the side. Tommy grunted and threw a pillow at his face.

"Maybe add some scars? I'd look cool." He said. Technoblade had plenty of them - on his hands, on his snout; his ear was torn, as if an earring had been forcibly ripped out of it. A long scar ran through his muzzle - he had one more, a little lower, on his cheek, which passed through his brow, dangerously close to his eye.

His forearms and hands were full of cuts that weren't covered with fur. Technoblade looked like a fighter. One look at him caused respect; according to Tommy. For others, it was fear lined with anxiety.

"Like a warrior." Tubbo said with a smile.

"Exactly. All women love dangerous men, I would have them all."

"Well, Sally likes Wilbur, so maybe not all of them like men with emotional baggage."

"Sally has no taste. Also, Wil is the definition of an emotional baggage." Tommy announced. He turned his head towards Tubbo. "And you?"

"Oh! I wish I had wings like bees! Or antennae. And if not such features, I'd like a scar too. A large one, so that I'll look scary."

Tommy laughed, poking Tubbo's cheek with his finger.

"Your face is way too friendly to be afraid of, bee boy." The brunet rolled his eyes and slapped his friend's hand. He pushed Tommy away from him, throwing him out of bed.

The blond landed on the floor with a loud grunt.

"Oi, you fucking-"

His words were interrupted by a rumble that shook the entire house. The boys froze in place.

Tubbo's eyes widened, looking around confusedly. Tommy put his hands over his ears, lifting his arms as if to tuck his head between them. Some hairs on their heads began to rise. The hair on their hands also stood on end.

Fundy ran into the room. He looked lethargic, but the panic gave him energy.

"Did you hear how close it hit?" He asked in horror. Tubbo seemed to break out of his trance, hitting his head with his open hand as if trying to break the momentary deafness. All three were hearing a screeching sound.

From behind the wall came Wibur running towards them to make sure everything was alright.

"On the ground!" Tubbo screamed as he saw their hair rising more and more.

The thud of the lightning strike their home was deafening. Tommy felt confused. He took Tubbo's hand and dragged him towards his brother. Wilbur was shouting something. He held Fundy close to him as the boy froze in place.

The noise in their ears was overwhelming. Wilbur's panicked voice was muffled, as if he were reaching Tommy through the surface of the water. The teenager narrowed his eyes, trying to distinguish between the words.

Only when he saw the flames licking the walls of the corridor did he begin to act.

"Out!" He screamed, praying that Wilbur would be able to hear his words.

They ran outside, choking on smoke, coughing and rubbing their irritated eyes. Fundy sobbed, cuddling against Wilbur as if his life depended on it.

Tubbo crouched on the ground, covering his ears.

Tommy looked at Wilbur. His eyes were focused on the burning building, an expression of utter despair running across his face. The flames reflected in his eyes.

"Where's Sally?" Tommy asked, filled with sudden panic. He grabbed Wilbur's arm and started shaking him. "Wil, where's Sally?"

His brother slowly shifted his gaze to him, but he seemed absent, as if it was incredibly difficult for him to stay aware. Tommy cursed at his blank stare.

"Shit. Wait here." He screamed as he started toward the burning house.

He covered his mouth with a bandana, trying not to inhale the smoke. The photos hung on the walls were completely burnt, leaving no trace of them. The floor and roof creaked dangerously. Several of the beams from the rooftop loosened and flew into the living room, falling onto the couch with a loud thud.

Tommy ran into the corridor leading to Wilbur's room, ignoring the flames burning on his fingertips and trousers. He paused at the sight of the collapsed section of the roof, breathing heavily.

Sally was pinned down by an enormous beam. She struggled, trying to push it away. Her hands were burned. The skin on her fingers and forearms was slowly turning black.

The air smelled of burnt hair and skin. Tommy knelt beside her, placing his hands on the beam and pushing with all his might.

He was shaking and his breaths grew heavier.

"I don't want to die. I want to see Fundy grow up. I want to see my mother again." Sally groaned as she pushed the beam. She was slowly losing strength. Her eyes were red from tears and smoke.

"I'll go for Techno. He'll take the beam off and everything will be fine. He'll help." Tommy promised her. He squeezed her hand and released it immediately as Sally let out a shrill scream.

He crossed the portal and began to cough. His legs buckled under him, but he forced himself to get up and run towards Techno's house.

"Runt?" The Piglin welcomed him with joy. Then, he frowned at his condition.

"Techno, you have to help me. Please, I can't help Sally." Tommy was breathing hard. There were tears in his eyes.

Don't cry. You're not a child, he reminded himself bitterly.

Technoblade didn't need to know what happened to follow him towards the portal. He crossed it without thinking, standing with the boy in the middle of the burning house.

Despite the flames surrounding them, he trembled, and green spots slowly began to appear on his skin.

He followed Tommy into the hallway, whimpering nervously and curling his tail under him.

He knelt beside the woman, who was breathing with increasing difficulty. He grabbed the beam, trying to lift it. Tommy quickly joined him, ignoring the splinters that were digging into his hands.

"We'll get you out of here, just don't close your eyes." Techno groaned in human language, staring at her pleadingly. Sally smiled.

"I knew you could talk, you pig motherfucker." She gasped, laughing incredulously.

“Yes, fantastic, I know, I am a man of many talents. When we get you out of here, I'll show you all of them." Techno replied, gritting his teeth and lifting the beam. Not enough to drag Sally from underneath it.

The woman was crying. She looked at Tommy sadly.

"Tell Fundy that I love him very much and that I'll be proud of who he'll become, no matter what." Tommy shook his head, hands trembling against the beam. "And Wilbur, to let you live. I love him, but for fuck's sake, you are your own person."

"Sally, you can tell them yourself." He told her, looking away.

“And make sure Tubbo doesn't become a terrorist. We all know he has the potential to be one. That kid is scary."

Tommy burst out laughing in disbelief, though his body was shaking as if he were about to start sobbing.

"You don't need Phil, do you understand me?" Fuck him, he's a shit dad."

Tommy paused, shaking his head.

"He loves me."

"I hope Wilbur will rip his wings off if he'll ever have the opportunity." She whispered vehemently. Her gaze was diminishing.

Tommy gritted his teeth and tried to put more strength into lifting the beam as he felt its weight increase. He looked up at Technoblade, whose skin was covered with open, rotting wounds. His jaw was partially visible.

The teenager was able to tell, despite the whiteness of his eyes, that his gaze was slowly unfocusing.

"She's gone." The Piglin said, but he sounded as if he was struggling with words. He started lowering the beam and was staring at her motionless body. Sally's eyes were still open, her mouth slightly ajar. Technoblade inclined his head. The wound that exposed his jaw began to enlarge.

"Fuck." Tommy gasped, grabbing his hand and running towards the portal.

Technoblade was growing increasingly confused and absent as the blonde pushed him into the obsidian frame, watching with desperate relief as his wounds healed and his demeanor changed.

"Too close." Tommy whispered with a sob. He didn't want to look back at his friend's body. He didn't want to go outside to get Wilbur out of his trance and tell him that he would never see his child's mother again.

He didn't want Fundy to grow up without his mum.

Technoblade hugged him.

"You don't have to go back there." He promissed.

The world was on fire around them - everything human that Tommy loved was in ruins.

His lower lip was trembling. He gritted his teeth on it and pushed Techno into the portal, so that he passed over to its other side.

"See you later." He promissed.

As he ran out of the house, alone, with burns on his hands and smoke in his lungs, he fell to the ground in front of Wilbur and embraced him, pressing his head against his chest.

"I promise I won't leave." He sobbed. And, for the first time in years, he cried.

Chapter Text

“Hey, I didn't know someone new was supposed to show up. Something like that is usually announced, especially with new communities. To keep an eye on safety and compliance with the rules, you know. No need for troublemakers.”

Tommy turned to the voice. Despite its trenchant tone, it sounded rather friendly.

A man in a green sweatshirt was sitting on a branch of one of the trees, looking at them with a mischievous smile. A white mask with a simple smiling face drawn on it hung loosely around his neck.

He was a goat hybrid, as evidenced by the horns growing from his head - not yet in their full glory, but visibly getting closer to it - and goat ears instead of the human ones. He stared at them with obvious curiosity, his pupils changing shape from round to narrow horizontal lines.

The teenager got the impression that this intrigued look was a bit similiar to a snake assessing its prey. There was something unsettling about it, but not enough to be overtly noticeable.

Wilbur stepped forward, raising his hand in greeting. He looked like a politician, with his back straight, his gait sure and a pleasant smile on his lips - the kind that grown ups tend to use.

“We got told that this is a good place to settle down. Away from people; a new start, if you will."

"Well, maybe for some. We're all friends here. We don't want trouble." He said, focusing his eyes on the three boys, ignoring Wilbur's outstretched hand. "It's not a kindergarten." He said cheerfully, as if he was joking, but something about it seemed serious enough.

Tommy blushed, clenching his fists.

"Oh, I will give you kindergarten, you goat piece of sh-"

"Tommy, don't insult the person who owns this place." Wilbur said in a pained voice. The teenager smiled, noticing that the corners of his brother's mouth twitched involuntarily upwards.

"Well, he's a wrongun', so he deserves to be insulted." Tommy stated, showing his middle finger as the man began to wave in a friendly way.

Wilbur rolled his eyes, then extended his hand to the stranger again.

“It is an immense pleasure to meet a person who is able to build his own community from scratch. My name is Wilbur, and I'm looking forward to our possible future collaborations. This untamed quicksilver is my brother, Tommy. Behind him, my son, Fundy, and our…” He looked at Tubbo thoughtfully. The brunette grinned in response. "Our honor family member, Tubbo."

"We found him in a box near the road." Tommy said, smiling broadly, like a liar. “And Fundy is basically a phoenix and this is his twenty-first incarnation. And I'm the biggest man alive. Tommy Danger Safety Kraken Innit." He nodded at the man, who leaned forward with his hands on his thighs and let out a wheeze, similiar to the whistle of an old kettle.

"And Wilbur?" he asked curiously.

"And Wilbur is balding, but he's still in denial about that."

"Tommy, damn it!" Wilbur buried his face in his hands, letting out a groan of exhaustion.

"Dream. Nice to meet you. We have a settlement not far from here, a bit inland." He said, bowing low.

He finally shook Wilbur's hand.

It was difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when the handshake changed to aiming at each other with bows and using TNT.

Tommy was sitting in a makeshift tent made of a sheet patched with bits of fabric left over from sewing uniforms. His chest and arm were wrapped in a thick layer of bandages, apparently given to Wilbur by Technoblade

His brother told him with a desperate laugh that the Piglin nearly tore him to pieces, when he found out that Tommy had followed his family into a revolution; one that had begun by innocently testing the limits of Dream's patience.

Tommy was half-smiling as he heard about how Techno had sent Nutpig after Wilbur and only after he had run twenty laps around his new home, with an angry and motivated Hoglin on his heels, did he call her off and let him explain the situation completely. The teenage boy suspected that Nutpig wasn't angry at all, but just happy at the prospect of getting treats for obeying orders.

The arrow hit just below his shoulder, miraculously missing all vital organs and veins, but for a week he was unable to even sit up unaided.

Tubbo spent the whole time by his side, whispering something about how it was too close.

Eret's betrayal continued to sting them as if thorns were piercing their lungs. Tommy was concerned for Wilbur's mental health, but his brother was too busy worrying about him to really get mad at the traitor.

When Tommy missed on the bridge, then stumbled and fell off balance into the river, his mind didn't register the pain at first. The adrenaline coursing through his veins changed him from a simple soldier into a warrior who had only one goal.

He swam under the pier. His uniform clung to his body and weighed him down, dragging him deeper into the dark and cold water.

The river where they had fished and jostled with Tubbo not so long ago seemed to have turned into a bottomless abyss.

He nocked the bowstring, holding his breath and closing one eye to take better aim. He was breathing heavily and his hands were shaking; whether it was from the cold, stress, or determination. Perhaps all of three at once.

Dream turned in a smooth motion and released an arrow from his bow, while efficiently jumping away from the flight trajectory of the one shot by Tommy.

The blond stared in disbelief at the blade moving towards him. With a crack that was deafening to him, the arrowhead dug into a bone just below his shoulder—probably one of his ribs—leaving the bolt visible to all, sticking out of his body like a banner.

Tommy was like a warrior. He was eager to fight, fueled by adrenaline and the need to defend what he had been given to believe in. The ideals were beginning to get mixed up - it was getting harder and harder to tell if he was fighting for freedom, for peace, for independence, or to make Wilbur proud.

Even though in the Final Control Room, when Eret looked Wilbur straight in the eye and pressed the button, filling the entire room with poison arrows that held them back, allowing their enemy to completely strip them of their weapons, Tommy was the last to fall, staggering still behind Dream, gripping the blade of his sword with his hand as he tried to stun him with it, Tommy fell from the arrow with a loud splash as his back hit the water.

Like Achilles, he fell from one well-placed blow despite the many others he had endured.

And just as with the death of Achilles, the warrior on whom the fate of his kin depended on, Tommy's wound made L'manburg loose all hope of victory.

To everyone's surprise, it was Dream who jumped into the water, pulling him to the surface and back to the bridge.

The man was breathing hard, looking at Tommy with a hard-to-place emotion. His ears twitched with every movement of the revolutionaries, who were being calmed down by Wilbur's wavering voice.

His brother looked at him with concern. He knelt by his side, checking his pulse with a shaking hand. He pushed Dream aside, shouting orders, though his voice sounded more like the barking of an enraged dog.

Sapnap - a wither skeleton hybrid; he took his features after his father, perhaps the kindest person Tommy had ever met - handed Dream an uncorked bottle of pink liquor, checking with concern the scratches on his skin. The man shook his head and handed the potion back to Wilbur, watching carefully as he put the neck of the bottle to Tommy's lips, parting them with his fingers when the teenager didn't do it himself.

Something in their facial expressions and behavior resembled the attitude of Priam visiting Achilles and joining him in mourning after the loss of a loved one. That one moment when two mortal enemies stood side by side on the bridge, making sure that the younger brother of one of them did not die as a result of the duel agreed upon by both parties, created a thread of mutual understanding.

Hate still smoldered in their hearts; it was revealed by Dream's hesitant gestures and how far he kept himself, without helping directly, and the hard look in Wilbur's eyes, who looked as if he was about to pounce on his opponent with a sharp scrap of metal - the only form of weapon they had left after Eret's deed, being a remnant from the destroyed karmavan.

But for that one moment, peace reigned between them, and hatred intertwined with their common motivation - to make sure Tommy didn't lose his life bleeding out on the cold, wet planks of the bridge.

Tommy woke up three days later in a tent, secured with all the pillows his family could find.

Tubbo had bags under his eyes, but he didn't say anything other than saying it was good to have him back.

Fundy visited him every few hours as if to make sure his uncle was still breathing. He tried to hide his uneasiness behind jokes, although Tommy knew that the whole war had taken a heavy toll on him.

It wasn't even hard to see, considering that immediately after Eret's betrayal, Fundy was the first person to regain feeling in his limbs, fighting the poison coursing through their veins, and only because the paralysis was broken by an excruciating pain.

The hybrid manifestation took various forms.

The ones that were the most common appeared due to the creation of a deep bond, based on trust, with another hybrid. They were painless, and inheriting the traits of their loved ones was all the more pleasant, because there was a person nearby who knew what was going on and what the consequences of these traits were.

Sapnap inherited his traits from his dad, Bad, which he repeatedly called absolutely cringe, especially since he spent a good year of his teenage years rebelling just to be able to manifest as a Blaze hybrid. Unfortunately for him, Bad's love and his delicious cooking won, and Sapnap returned home after a week-long run away attempt, waking up in the morning with hands that looked charred, fire resistance, and heat-visible black bones that seemed to show through his skin at times.

Bad had much clearer features - Sapnap still looked human, while Bad was as black as a winter night, and his white eyes, visible from the hooded face, caused everyone new to getting to know him a kind of anxiety - only to realize after a while that the man was as sweet as his cupcakes.

Before the war broke out, Sapnap and Tommy teamed up to annoy George and Ponk, making it their lifes' goal. The wither hybrid then confided to Tommy that when he woke up after the manifestation, he set fire to his room out of anger, but his attempt to commit arson ended up with nothing, because Bad had long used furniture and items imported from the Nether, and thus, fireproof. His father cried at the sight of his new appearance, acting more like a peacock than a demon he resembled.

Another type of manifestation was stress-related, often combined with yet another type.

Stress may have caused the manifestation of random characteristics or stopped it altogether, for a longer period of time or permanently.

This was the case with Wilbur, who, through the stress of his entire life, the amount of responsibilities and the keen fear that he might become like Phil, remained human despite his magical blood.

The situational manifestations were quite complicated. They were related to stress.

They were excruciatingly painful and dependent on several different reasons.

When someone was around a person who was hurting or making them constantly feeling threatened, the person could manifest identical characteristics to their abuser - it was a kind of self-defense mechanism of the body, based on the assumption that by being similar to the threat, it was reduced by feeling insecure about hurting someone similar.

Sometimes they depended on the place. If the potential hybrid was in a particular area where certain traits would be required for safety or survival, the organism was eager to manifest them.

This is what happened in the case of Dream, who, due to his nomadic lifestyle and love of adrenaline, got the characteristics of a mountain goat, enabling him to travel efficiently and quickly through unpleasant areas.

And there were manifestations depending on the situation.

When a person was in a dead end situation, in constant stress and a state of danger, they were given features that enabled them to adapt to the situation - similar to the manifestation in the case of a place.

People who felt enslaved often gained a desire to escape so great that eventually it manifested itself in the form of wings tearing from their backs, enabling them to regain freedom.

Fundy felt as if he had to be clever and cunning, so that no one could hurt him and his family again. Because he wasn't smart enough to see that Eret wasn't worth trusting.

In the Final Control Room, Tommy lay so that he had a view of Wilbur's face, who opened his eyes wide, not holding back tears. He tried to fight the paralysis, but they only regained the use of their limbs several hours later, which they spent listening to the near-agonal cries of their smallest family member.

Wilbur pushed himself up to his elbows and crawled over to his son, hugging him to his chest as if he held his whole world in his arms. He whispered slowly, soft words of reassurance as Fundy sobbed into his filthy uniform, dropping his new ears low.

Tommy was pleased to see that his nephew was getting more and more comfortable in his new form, joking that with his new heightened senses he couldn't stand the smell of his father around him.

Tommy poked the bandage in the place where the arrow had been, wincing in pain as he watched in displeasure as a small red spot appeared on the white cloth.

Wilbur entered the tent, sitting down next to the bed with a book in his hand.

His hands were stained with ink, and he held a pen that hovered precariously over the page that read The Act of Surrender.

Wilbur visited him the most, spending more time at his vigil than outside the tent. Even Jack, their new acquaintance, said bitingly that their general's exhaustion wouldn't help Tommy recover.

"How are you?"

“I should be asking that, Will. You look like a piece of shit." Tommy gasped, wincing at the sound of his own voice. It was completely hoarse and cracked in several places.

Wilbur smiled softly as he set the book aside.

"I went to your damn Piglin's place for more bandages. It will never forgive me for endangering you like this."

"He set the Hoglin on you?"

"He set the Hoglin on me." Wilbur confirmed, pursing his lips. “I thought he was going to cut off all my fingers one by one and make a soup out of them. When I offered him a sack of potatoes as a peace offer, he spat in my face and started throwing them at me. This beast somehow manages to make anything into a long-range weapon."

"He's just showing his concern and worry. Techno's not the best at emotions."

"No, no, I think his reaction was quite appropriate here, actually."

They sat in silence for a while, punctuated by Tommy's wheezing. Wilbur clasped his hands together, nails digging into his knuckles.

"I'm a bad brother."

Tommy frowned. He pushed himself up, propping himself up on his forearms.

"No, you're not."

"You should hate me." Wilbur's voice broke. He covered his mouth with his hand and looked away from his brother. Tommy shook his head.

"I will never."

"It must be hard, to be my brother."

Wilbur avoided his gaze. He didn't turn around as Tommy placed a hand on his shoulder.

The feeling of resignation was accompanied by an unpleasant feeling of guilt. He forced Tommy to take care of him, even though he should never have taken that role. He made him feel obligated to follow him into the fire.

In all these years of self-hatred, he had forgotten how to be happy and how to love without causing pain.

"Loving you isn't hard." Tommy said simply, hugging him carefully.

Wilbur felt that he didn't deserve it.

When Tommy was nowhere to be found two days later, the young general was ready to spread panic throughout the camp, searching every corner, every hole in the ground and every crack in the walls in horror.

The teenager strode through the main gate in all his glory, proudly carrying the signed Declaration of Independence and smiling victoriously.

"Tommy!" Wilbur lunged towards him, checking to see if he had taken any additional damage. Tommy smiled and handed him the scrap of paper he was holding.

"You didn't honestly think a scammer like me would be fooled by some lousy loss in a stupid-ass duel, did you?" He asked with a sneer, though his whole body was vibrating with joy.

Fundy, Tubbo and Jack gave cheers when they saw the declaration. The redhead started jumping and running in circles, wagging his tail happily. Tubbo gave a gleeful shriek as he brandished his fist bravely, and Jack gave two thumbs up in praise.

Wilbur put his arm around Tommy, lifting his good hand up.

"Dear gentlemen, I am proud to announce our victory!" He exclaimed, smiling broadly.

He leaned over to Tommy, his smile taking on a slightly sad expression.

"How did you do that?"

“I gave him my discs. Nothing else." Wilbur frowned at these words - it was hard to believe that discs with two simple songs were the solution to the conflict that had dragged on for so long.

He felt that questioning Dream's motives more deeply would give him a headache rather than offer an explanation.

"Don't ever do that again, okay? Your life is more important than winning." he whispered. Tommy smiled uncertainly.

"I did it for you, Will. For L'manburg, for us to be free." He said carefully. His brother shook his head.

"My happiness is not worth your pain." He looked up at the sky and sighed. "I think you deserve a rest. And that this Technoblade of yours probably missed you, if he can feel that way. I know you haven't had time to visit him in the last few months. We'll wait for you with the celebrations, but now you can go rest." He said, looking as if the words were causing him physical pain and discomfort.

Tommy nodded and ran towards the portal.

Chapter Text

Technoblade almost threw himself on Tommy when he saw him in the entrance of his house. He sniffed at his wounds and squealed in a concerned, slightly high-pitched way.

Tommy placed a hand over his snout, carefully moving it away from his bandaged shoulder. He smiled in a way he hoped looked soothing, but the way Techno's ears twitched and his foot tapped showed that he had failed to calm him down.

“Leaving you alone with Wilbur was a big mistake. I should never have let you go." He grunted, pulling him closer. The teenager shook his head, but let himself be immersed in the embrace.

Techno's hug was warm and strong, and something in the back of Tommy's head assured him that he was safe with him. The Piglin had been his piece of safe heaven for a long time now.

The place where he didn't have to worry about the storm raging around.

"Brothers are bad business." Technoblade growled, not hiding his displeasure.

"Like you would know. Classic only child behaviour, if you ask me. Besides, do you even know the meaning of the word business?”

Techno dropped his ears. His tail wrapped around his leg.

"I heard this giant ego-filled maggot use that word."

"Come on. If Wil heard that, he'd cry. Would you seriously want to see him cry?"

Technoblade bowed his head, keeping his ears upright. A clear sign to admit that yes, he would. Wilbur's tears were probably number one on the list of things he wanted to see in his life.

"You know, we should have a game night! You know chess, right? Tubbo taught me and Wilbur to play, and Fundy showed us Monopoly. It's a game where the goal is to become the biggest capitalist in the world by amassing a fortune and scamming others. Almost like hoarding gold!” Tommy announced happily. Technoblade cocked his head to the side.

"I have a vague feeling that I've just been insulted."

"Oh, come on, don't be such an-" Tommy used a piglin word that made Techno wince. His distaste and disbelief were evident, despite his lack of facial expressions.

He grunted, lifted an ear and stamped, then growled in displeasure. Tommy rolled his eyes.

"Anyway. One night, just you, me and Wilbur. Strengthening family ties. What do you think?"

"Will you be happy if we do that?" Tommy nodded. "And will you stop getting into trouble and risking your life?"

Tommy had to think about this for a moment, which resulted in an indignant grunt from the Piglin. The teen raised his hands, grinning.

"Okay, okay. No stupid and irrational decisions. I won't even consider them at all. When I hear this type of idea, I'll say, No, thank you, you can go now. Go drown yourself in the river, have a nice day."

"So we have a plan to kill Wilbur." Techno stated. Tommy laughed heartily and patted him on the back.

"You're a comedian. Really, if you get bored of cooking you should consider Stand Up Comedy."

"I will think about it."

Tommy grinned even wider and started bouncing in place, making chuffs similar to those made by Techno when he was in a good mood.

"Wilbur’s gonna be so happy!"

Wilbur was extremely unhappy and questioned every decision he had made so far.

He looked at Tommy, who was clutching a box of Monopoly, that had definitely seen better days. The packaging was worn and torn, and from what the brunette remembered, its contents were solidly defective.

Some of the paper money was replaced by crooked drawings made by his family, as well as two of the cards, with names Business Bay and Arctic Empire scrawled on them. Two pawns were also missing, one stylized as a creeper and the other as a chicken.

The box looked like it was about to fall apart, ending its painful and cruelly long life, but his brother didn't look too concerned, even as a few of the paper bills fell through the torn open side of the box and drifted in the wind, probably towards a better place.

Wilbur felt a strange urge to salute to them and wish them a good journey.

"You're lingering." Tommy pointed out, continuing his rhythmic stride along the wooden path. Wilbur winced at the unscrubbed dark stain on the bridge they were crossing. Despite Bad's best efforts - for he was possibly the only person who actually cared about the state of this accursed place - Tommy's blood had soaked into the rotting boards, and it clearly intended to stay there until they were potentially replaced.

Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a potentiality, considering that he had seen Bad dragging Sapnap by the ear into the woods a few days earlier, holding a simple iron axe.

The fact that this particular, fire-loving Wither Skeleton Hybrid would be forced to replace the soaked planks gave Wilbur some satisfaction. The pyromaniac approached the water like a cat, dodging it with an almost panicky cry and pretending that it caused him pain.

Sapnap's fidelity to playing a Blaze was endearing. Had Bad not corrected them on the first day, admitting that Sapnap manifested inheriting his traits, the general probably wouldn't have noticed. Especially since both the blaze and the withers had genetic resistance to fire and a high body temperature.

Sapnap received from George an absolute ban on touching anyone with his bare hands. His skin was stinging and the touch was painfully uncomfortable, and often resulted in hand-shaped burns.

It was still better than the fact that Sapnap's blood was causing the withering effect.

Wilbur had seen Jack manage to graze a man in the side during one of the raids on L’manburg. His screams of triumph quickly turned to panic as the blood-soaked hand began to discolor and physically wither.

They were able to fix it quickly. Fundy - bless his heart - immediately splashed Jack with a bucket of milk, which quickly cured the disease.

Sapnap was laughing maniacally, looking like a monster, who could harm them more than they would ever harm him.

It was hard to believe that he was the same person his father had forcibly dragged to L'manburg after the duel, forcing him to apologize and give some of his food to the revolutionaries.

Punz stood near the portal, watching them with distrust.

"What are you fucking staring at? Did that green bitch decide to monopolize travel to the Nether?" Tommy growled, gripping the Monopoly box a little tighter.

The blond didn't seem too bothered by his outburst. He raised an eyebrow at them with a bored look.

"That sounds more like something you guys would do."

Wilbur gritted his teeth and straightened up.

Of course, to their opponents, his revolution had the appearance of a selfish desire to take control of the potion market.

Perhaps it also looked like this from the perspective of his own comrades - although Wilbur skillfully used beautiful language filled with big words and empty promises, and the situation that was to some extent just breaking the law established before their arrival was easily turned into a fight for freedom from the dictatorial pressure of a power-hungry tyrant.

After all, before being a general, he was an excellent orator first.

However, in reality, in his attempts to create something greater; something permanent that wouldn't burn randomly, out of control - after all, Wilbur was the epitome of destruction. But the one he sowed had to be orderly, like an orchestra, obeying its conductor – something, that meant more than an empty house with pictures on the walls capturing a loving father and two happy sons - a lie that was locked in a photograph - than a garden waiting for calloused hands, for black feathers lying among the weeds like flowers; there was hidden a simple desire to create a home that would be pernament.

The desire to create a home more durable than the one that stood in the bee-filled meadow, remaining visible to the world as smithereens with the half-charred body of a person whose family had never been able to bury, instead leaving her to be accepted by nature as her lost child, overgrown with grass and moss, rotting in the ashes of a place that was meant to keep them all safe.

Wilbur wanted to create something that would be a home for Tommy. That would be him. His symphony, his most important work; the monument he would leave behind.

"Tommy. We've got more important things to worry about." He said, covering his brother with his hand, as if it was going to protect him from Punz's cold gaze.

The man didn't stop them as they passed through the portal. He wasn't really a person who cared about other people's lives. Instead, he focused on his own goals.

Wilbur was able to respect that.

The giant Piglin standing two meters in front of his face, however, was seemingly incapable of respecting Wilbur.

Technoblade was clutching a potato, somehow making it look like a dangerous weapon. Only he was able to make a vegetable look like a clear threat.

He didn't hide his growl, and Wilbur swallowed hard, looking for the Hoglin who might’ve be lurking anywhere.

Luck was on his side, however, and it took the form of his younger brother, who, with delight and obvious self-satisfaction, held out the board game in front of him, giving Techno time to sniff it calmly.

They had a pleasant conversation for a while, with lots of gestures and grunts.

The Piglin began to look increasingly unhappy. Tommy turned to Wilbur.

"Techno invited us in."

His older brother had a vague feeling that said Piglin simply didn't have the heart to say no to the teenager, especially when he seemed overjoyed at the thought of a family night.

It was hard to ignore his groan of despair as Wilbur wiped his boots on the intertwined red grass mat, sending the netherrack dust on the floor. The snarl that tore from the creature's throat quickly made him collect the red dust with his hand, flicking it out the door.

Only then did Technoblade allow him to go deeper.

Wilbur saw his house from the outside - a cave with an added front, taking the form of a cozy cottage. What he didn't expect, however, was that the interior also took the form of an actual house, which he would attribute to humans, not a feral Piglin who was adopting random children.

“A Human, a Piglin and a future Avian walk into a bar,” Tommy began, grinning at Wilbur as if his joke would lighten the mood.

The brunette winced instead, but when Technoblade started growling again, he let out a nervous laugh.

The growl died down.

It was going to be a long night.

Technoblade prepared food - various potato dishes, but also very thinly sliced bacon from some wild Hoglin - Nutpig didn't care that the meat she ate belonged to her kind.

Wilbur wasn't sure if he was allowed to help himself, especially when the Piglin turned to him, his lips twisting so that his tusks were more visible.

Tommy spread the board on the table, taking his place. He took a metal pawn in his hand, one in the shape of a wolf. Technoblade reached for the miniature squid, which seemed microscopic in his hand.

Wilbur looked at the remaining pieces, slowly reaching for the pig figure. Technoblade, seeing this, snorted, but did nothing to express his displeasure.

Tommy started, recognizing that Techno would be able to catch the rules of the game on the fly - the brunette smiled at this thought. It was obvious that they were playing an unofficial but definitely better, improved version of Monopoly; the one played by Tommy's rules.

After an hour, Technoblade seemed to be losing his patience, though Wilbur had to admit that he had lasted an appallingly long time. Tommy grinned as he slowly scooped up more paper bills.

The bank was almost empty—his little brother had some sticky fingers, and Wilbur had learned long ago that taking his eyes off him for even a second made him suddenly rich.

He rested his head on his hand, casually moving his pawn toward the prison for the sixteenth time. With amusement, he watched Tommy and Techno argue. The blond continued to look smug as his Piglin friend made increasingly squeaky and desperate sounds.

"I think we can agree that Tommy remains the champion of the capitalism."

"If you want to beat me, train for another one thousand years!" The blonde quoted, giving Technoblade a mischievous smile.

The Piglin stood up and carefully lifted him, being careful not to strain his wounded arm. Tommy started giggling and squirming in his arms. He grabbed the dice and tried to aim at his friend's face, but he quickly dodged.

The dice smacked Wilbur in the forehead, bouncing back with a soft thud. The man shouted indignantly, to which his two companions reacted with loud laughter.

If Wilbur ignored the discomfort that was clearly visible in Techno's every move, he might’ve even believed they resembled brothers, all three of them. The pampered and adored youngest of the siblings, annoying and loud; the unhappy and unfulfilled middle child; and the oldest of the brothers, introverted and calm, but just as fond of teasing and bullying his siblings as the rest of them.

But every growl brought him back to earth.

They weren't brothers. Technoblade only acknowledged the presence of Tommy, not even tolerating the rest of the people. No matter how much Wilbur tried, the Piglin wouldn't let him into his sounder.

Tommy started talking to his friend again, imitating the sounds he made with pure perfection.

Wilbur stared at them, and the voice crept back to him again, coiling around his mind like a snake, dripping its venom into his head.

Tommy could have been an Avian. He clung to Phil like a desperate little child clings to a parent who is supposed to be its oasis; the safe heaven.

It was just like Sally said. If he wanted to make sure he never sprouted wings, he should have made sure to squash all that bottomless love by showing him who their father really was - nothing more than a coward who was afraid to return to the sons whose faces had been blurred in his memory; a coward, who wouldn’t be able to face the concequences of his own actions.

Wilbur doubted Phil would recognize them instantly. How long does it take a person for the feeling of longing to stop being painful? How long does it take to forget the faces of loved ones, their voices and favorite colors?

The sons Phil had left behind in the empty house were long gone - even if looking at Tommy there were still resemblances to the laughing child he once was.

Wilbur had failed him more than once, and he knew it. It was a cruel realisation, but one that was true nontheless.

His brother had the gait of a soldier now, and his hands were adorned with single scars. He was more confident and not as naive, though still just as loyal.

There was a fine line between naivety and devotion.

However, watching Tommy try to climb on Techno's back, laughing with amusement as Piglin began to panic, possibly drawing attention to his wounds, something else crossed Wilbur's mind.

It was as if his shadow was behind him, grabbing his head and forcing him to focus his eyes on his younger brother. Cold jealousy, a stabbing pain in his heart, and a feeling of resentment were beginning to clog his throat.

He wanted to start scratching it desperately, begging to breathe normally. He wanted to dig his dirty fingernails into the skin so deep they would tear the muscles and the larynx to bloody shreds if it meant he could breathe normally again.

If not for Phil, he'll leave you for him, an unpleasant whisper echoed in his ears. Its voice sounded so much like Wilbur's, but there was something wrong with it.

The man wanted to scream at himself. He had good days. They won independence. He had the opportunity to get to know his younger brother's best friend, the person who took care of him when Wilbur was unable to, but all he heard was a static noise.

He had a son waiting for him at home, with a drawing of their family - L'manburg, because that’s what this place really was.

He wanted to scream and cry and tear his hair out.

Techno glanced his way, and his movements became a little stiffer. He whispered something to Tommy, who frowned, causing lines to appear on his forehead and between his eyebrows.

"Okay, I'm tired, big men, I think I'll go rest." He said, though he sounded uncertain. Before Wilbur could respond, Technoblade approached him, blocking his access to the door. He pointed to the couch and nodded his head, clearing his throat.

The brunet looked uncertainly after Tommy, who shrugged and went towards the portal, smiling apologetically.

Wilbur turned his gaze to the Piglin, who was looking at him expectantly. He slowly sat down on the couch.

Technoblade handed him a cup filled with the same liquid that pulsed under the bark of the trees.

He moved away from him and his tail curled around his leg. He cocked his head to the side in a gesture Tommy had long ago explained as questioning.

"I have no idea what you want from me, Technoblade."

The Piglin looked back at the portal, then stared intently at Wilbur, who wished more and more to be able to just disappear.

"Oh, a face to face conversation? Let me pick your brain: what prompted you to do this all of a sudden? Didn’t take you for a confrontational type."

The Piglin made a lot of gestures that Wilbur didn't understand at all. The creature looked suddenly tired, as if it were Atlas, carrying the entire sky on his shoulders.

There was an unpleasant feeling in Wilbur’s stomach. He winced, dreaming of his own makeshift bed, somewhere away from other people, where he could spend his moment of weakness in silence.

The Piglin put his hand to his chest, then grabbed his ears, pulling them down as if imitating a person pulling their hair during a panic attack. He lifted his snout, and Wilbur felt tears slowly starting to form in his eyes.

Because somehow that Piglin, who absolutely hated him, was able to see that something was off..

"I’m perfectly fine, if that’s what you’re worried about."

"For a politician, you're a hopeless liar." A deep voice murmured. Wilbur's eyes widened, staring incredulously at the beast sitting a few feet away. Technoblade lowered his ears. He looked embarrassed, but something in his body language spoke of absolute determination, as if the choice he had made was as obvious to him as the stars in the night sky.

"What?" He choked out, instantly forgetting all the ways he had spent on creating walls around himself with. Control was, for a long time, his only means of reassurance that he wouldn’t be left alone. And it slipped, with Technoblade’s choice to speak.

"You look bad." The Piglin stated. His voice was monotonous, as if he didn't know how to pour his emotions onto it. Deep and firm, it was somehow warm. It suited him.

"You speak."

"And you look like a Strider when it's taken ashore." The Piglin told him. "When you're sad, you hurt Tommy. It pays off for both of us that you finally let your emotions out instead of keeping them in and staining others with the bits of them." He said, as if he was stating a simple fact, and not undermining the whole existence of the man sitting on his couch.

"Are you a therapy animal?" he asked incredulously. Technoblade snickered, his mouth twisting in an unnatural way, probably imitating Tommy's smile. His tail wagged and his fist hit his thigh in amusement.

The Piglin, however, did not comment, giving him time to think.

Some part of Wilbur, the self-destructive part that had been screaming for years that he didn't deserve anything good, was relieved to hear his rival for the very first time.

As if he were Tantalus, imprisoned in the Tartarus, constantly reaching for fruit with hope; for happiness, watching how others are able to feel its sweetness, which seemed so close, yet just out of reach; over the years he learned to live in harmony with the feeling of hunger. But now he had the opportunity to finally, for the first time, truly admit that his desperate attempts to grasp his target were futile, and that his anger of failure burned others.

Like all Greek heroes, Wilbur was doomed to be a tragic one.

Technoblade was not Sally, who, despite knowing about his problems, didn’t know their full extent, who focused on reassuring him that the world he saw was distorted by his sadness.

Nor was he the Tommy, who had learned how to bring him a temporary relief, the substitute for the happiness he had become addicted to.

He was a Piglin who had probably gone through hell himself - Wilbur wasn't stupid. When Tommy announced that he had gained an unusual friend, he absorbed all knowledge of the Piglins he could find to make sure his little sun wasn’t in danger.

Technoblade must have been not much younger than him. Tommy mistook him for an adult when they first met, but looking at him, he must have been around Wilbur's age, if not younger.

Piglins were social creatures, however strange it may seem to all travelers who came across the single Pigmen wandering the forests in order to find people to trade items for gold with.

Technoblade was a Brute, and Brutes were strictly forbidden to leave their bastions. His necklace, composed of dozens of white beads, was worn with pride by common Piglins, but Technoblade hid it as if in shame, but never put it aside, as if it were a reminder that he should feel shame and discomfort.

Wilbur, unlike Tommy, had long ago given up the idea that everyone was good and the reality was simple and clear. The real world was filled with knots, complexities, and motivations that were hard to explain.

Unlike Tommy, who was busy learning about the Nether and treating it as his second home, Wilbur was able to dig up information about a young Piglin who had slain his entire bastion, sparing absolutely no one, leaving behind carnage, blood-spattered walls and masses of rotting corpses. A massacre indescribable, with the lifeless bodies of the older Piglins collapsing on those of the younger ones, as if even in death they were trying to defend their runts.

Technoblade was possibly the only person who somehow understood Wilbur's problems; that voice in the back of his head that seemed to urge him to destroy others in order to create them anew.

No Piglin would kill its sounder without a cause. And especially not so young. Technoblade couldn't have even been a teenager when it had happened, but against all odds, the white beads symbolizing every single life he'd taken were enough of a proof.

Wilbur took a deep breath.

"I don't remember if I know how to be happy." He started, clasping his hands together. He closed his eyes, but Techno’s low grunts assured him that the Piglin had given him his full attention. “No matter how hard I try, at some point it all stops being real. It's like I'm walking through a fog, with no sense of direction or purpose. Something inside me is just rotten and wants to keep me from failing."

Perhaps it was easier to explain his feelings to a creature who he thought was thoughtless and brutal just moments ago.

"I don't want to hurt Tommy, but I can't have him leave me. I need him."

His hands were shaking and tears welled up in his eyes. He took a deep breath, quickly regaining control of his voice, though it still sounded like a willow branch, swaying in the wind, fighting against its strong gusts and trembling mercilessly, as if in fear of breaking away from the rest of the tree.

"If I ever lose control and that thing inside wins, can I trust you to be his brother?" He asked, cowering like a small child. For a moment, he sat in shock at the sound of his own words, not expecting them to actually leave his mouth.

Technoblade also looked surprised. He walked over to Wilbur and put his hand on his chest.

"Not brother. Tommy is in my sounder. I will always take care of him. He will always have a place with me." He looked like he was struggling with his thoughts, but there was something in his demeanor that Wilbur had been searching for. Understanding.

"Do you really not know how to be happy? Or do you just not allow yourself to do that, believing that suffering is all you deserve?"

Wilbur was silent.

He finally lifted his head, pushing Techno's hand away.

It was as if all those years had finally caught up to him. As if he was a little boy again, obediently waiting for his father's return, hoping he would come to drive away the monsters around and protect him from himself.

He couldn't remember the first time he'd felt so weak he couldn't get out of bed despite Tommy's pleas, which quickly turned into panic-filled crying.

He wasn't sure when he began to see him as the basis of his happiness.

"I don't want him to leave me." He repeated, but it sounded strangely empty.

“You wouldn't want to be kept in a cage, no matter how golden its bars are. Don't do that to him then."

Wilbur nodded, wiping away his tears. He still felt bad, he still felt the need to separate Tommy from everyone around him, but the healing was never linear. For every two steps forward, there was one step back.

Wilbur finally truly felt he wanted to try.

"For Tommy, the world."

"This isn't about Tommy. It's about you." Technoblade took the mug from his hands, setting it down on the table. "You must learn how to live. Tommy will cope, he has people to help him with that. This is your turn to grow."

It was a long way to go, but the fruit branch was closer, bending almost within his reach, as if he could touch its leaves with his fingers. Tantalus, finally having hope, seeing the light at the bottom of his abyss.

“If you tell anyone that I spoke to you in your language, much less about your emotions, I will tear out your windpipe. I have a reputation to uphold."

Maybe Technoblade would fit in their family better than Wilbur had previously thought.

Chapter Text

Bad was on his way to becoming Tommy's favorite person. The man smiled politely as Tommy, busy devouring the muffins he brought as quickly as if he were inhaling them, tried to listen to his monologue.

"Is your arm doing better?" He asked, glancing at the spot where the arrow had been stuck not so long ago. Bandages no longer required constant changes, and sudden movements didn't result in ripping off the stitches, so Tommy could officially return to wearing his full uniform. He shrugged, not wincing in pain but still feeling a slight sting of it.

Ponk came one day with Sam - a creeper hybrid that Tommy hadn't met before, and who admitted to having a secret base, which Tommy found outrageous; they should've let him explore it! - to see how much damage the arrow had done to his shoulder.

Ponk didn't look happy, but he was the only one with basic medical knowledge, which was far more than any of the members of L'manburg, so the privilege of being the only competent physician rested on his shoulders - somewhat against his will.

There was a grimace behind his red mask, the teen was sure about that. Tommy was good at reading other people's feelings, especially when they weren't that expressive. Being friends with Techno had many advantages, including developing the ability to recognize the emotions of others with a limited view of their facial expressions.

“You may have trouble lifting heavy things, and you'll probably learn to prefer your other arm rather quickly, but there's not much of a muscle problem. Regular exercise and you should recover. No nerve damage, everything looks fine." He said, yawning as if he was bored tending to something that caused Tommy to be on the brink of death not so long ago.

Sam towered over him, but there was something warm and kind about his eyes. Tommy had never met a creeper hybrid before, but he couldn't imagine it looking so friendly. He resembled a big cat. The man shook his head pityingly, smiling apologetically as he did it.

Tommy had the unexplainable urge to ask him to call him son, just once.

"Ponkie..." Sam sighed with a soft smile that quickly turned to a roguish one as his friend ducked his head, fighting the smile that was pressing on his lips. If Ponk's face was visible, it would be darker than usually.

“He burned my lemon tree down, Sam. I don't have to be gentle with him."

"He's injured." The green-haired man said, putting his hand on the doctor's shoulder. Tommy almost choked on his own saliva when he noticed how big it was. Sam definitely gave the best hugs.

"That's true. I am so wounded and poor, and so in pain. A little half-orphan boy, no mother and no money, what will I do, poor little me, against such a cruel world."

Ponk threw a roll of bandages at him, then left the room, muttering angrily to himself. Sam laughed melodiously.

Tommy decided that he would kill for him.

"I would kill for you." He informed the man, who looked at him with so much warmth and kindness that the teen felt like he was melting.

"Let's keep our fingers crossed that this won't be necessary." He said with amusement. He waved at him, then followed after Ponk, whose whining turned to angry screams. Tommy collapsed onto the bed in displeasure. He hadn't managed to get into Sam's good graces enough to see his secret base.

Tommy winced as his shoulder hurt again, but he quickly covered his discomfort with another muffin, which he shoved unceremoniously into his mouth.

Bad, if he saw his reaction, didn't comment, instead focusing on the conversation that followed - even if it was one-sided.

"I'm sorry that Sapnap even thought of doing something like this. I can understand arson, but war? I thought I raised him better. He's grounded for the next fifteen years, and I confiscated all of his lighters. If you need a helping hand with repairs, we'll be more than happy to help.”

Tommy doubted that the brunet pyromaniac would be happy to help, but he would certainly be forced to. He shook his head.

“Big man, I doubt Wil would let any of you in. Even now I see Tubbo standing with a bow in his hand."

Bad jumped, looking around for the boy. Tommy's friend was standing on the wall, clutching bow and arrows. His muscles were tense and his eyebrows furrowed. Tommy could assure him a thousand times that there was no need for him to worry, but as soon as the blond was away for a long time, Tubbo would get stressed to the point where he was sick.

He stopped trying to follow him into the Nether only after Wilbur assured him that Tommy was perfectly safe there, even if the teenager looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that the Nether was a deadly wasteland and not a playground.

The wither hybrid laughed nervously.

"Well, I guess I'll take that as a sign that I should go now. Here,” He handed him a basket filled with muffins, smiling. "for all of you, on the occasion of gaining independence."

Bad definitely became Tommy's favorite person that day.

Whatever Techno was talking to Wilbur about had a profound effect on the brunet, something Tommy saw rather quickly.

"Something's wrong." He accused him one day.

Wilbur spent more time either with Fundy, teaching him how to play the guitar, or writing songs by himself. He got tense around Tommy, as if he didn't know what to do around him.

"I have no idea what exactly you mean by that. If it's the flowers that Tubbo and I planted around the town hall, I want to say that I mentioned to him many times that the poppies would instantly lose their petals at the slightest gust of wind."

L'manburg was growing. New houses were being built to replace the makeshift tents that were made of such awful materials, that they offered no protection on stormy nights.

Tubbo was working on a project for the gardens, promising to bring in so much bees that they would have enough honey for the rest of their lives and the next three.

Their little nation was teeming with life.

"No, it's not about that." The teenager shook his head. Conversations with Wilbur were difficult. Tommy easily let his feelings take over, while his brother was more calculating, his every word carefully thought out.

The blond didn't stop his work, weeding the beds, cursing the weeds that dared to try to harm his carrots.

"You talked to Techno," he finally said, frowning. "and now you're acting weird."

"Weird?"

"Yes, fucking weird. Like an ass."

Wilbur laughed and sat down on the ground. Although the walls around L'manburg were meant to protect them, getting out into the fresh air and being out in the open was still a pleasure. A fresh breeze ruffled his hair. Orpheus, the master of words, was sitting on the hill, looking with the fascination proper to a supposedly human being, but one that was so far from pure humanity, at the work of a boy covered with mud and clay.

Tommy's knees were stained with grass and his calves scratched by twigs. He tied his jacket around his waist. A green bandana served as a headband, holding his blond locks and keeping them from falling over his face.

"Do you perhaps know the term codependency?" The brunet asked, but his words sounded empty. Tommy expected something more complicated - a fountain of notions that made him feel like a serf who had been invited to a noble court for the first time in his life and was forced to pretend to fit in with aristocratic society.

"Sounds like some kind of superpower." He stated, receiving a faintly stifled laugh in return. Wilbur shook his head. His shoulders relaxed, as if Tommy had managed to take some of the weight off them.

"Far from it, actually. Sometimes people are closer to each other than they should be, and they stop being able to function without each other's presence."

The teen didn't stop working on his plot, but the expression on his face betrayed that he was listening. Even worse, he understood.

Maybe if Tommy hadn't met Techno and Tubbo, his relationship with Wilbur wouldn't have been so distinctive. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed the loose bricks, the movement of which could easily have caused the entire wall to collapse, revealing whatever ugly truth was hiding behind it.

“Sally told me that on the day of the fire. I miss her so much.” His eyesight became absent. Tommy tugged harder on the weed, tearing up the carrots that it had grown into. "I think I'm so attached to you that the thought of losing you sometimes makes my actions not objectively good, but selfish, which hurts you and our loved ones."

"So what, do you want to stop being my brother?" Tommy mumbled, feeling his heart split in half and beating so hard at the same time, that he thought he could hear the blood coursing through his veins.

"No! Tommy, look at me. Look me in the eye." Wilbur grabbed his arm, breathing heavily. “We will never stop being brothers, and I will never stop loving you. But when we can't live without each other, we only set ourselves up for failure. I don't want to be a burden to you."

"You aren't."

"You say that because we're brothers. And we'll always be, but we should be able to be independent too.” Wilbur took a deep breath and leaned in to him. "That's why I want you to know, that if you grow wings, you should keep them. You should fly high, and see the world, and meet new people. I'm sorry I ever tried to dictate your happiness."

Tommy threw himself into his arms, taking his words like the father his prodigal son. He was too young to equate the feeling bubbling within him with forgiveness, because his young mind saw nothing that required it.

"So how are we supposed to live? I thought what we were doing was okay?"

Wilbur shrugged, holding back a sob.

"I have no idea." He admitted.

They were both on their way to discovering it.

Trying to get over the urge to go to each other for comfort every time was hard.

Wilbur, however unfit to be a baker, loved to knead bread dough, happy to keep his hands occupied.

Niki smiled kindly at him, too kind to point out the existential crisis he was going through.

She was the newest member of L'manburg; she moved from a bigger city, looking for peace. She heard about a newly formed country, where all members were family to each other, and decided to seek happiness within its borders, bringing with her the smell of freshly baked bread and a briefcase filled with cake recipes.

"The fast life isn't really for me." She said one day after her arrival, after Fundy and Tommy had finished showing her around, telling her about their adventures, insulting the members of Essempe, and saying something about Wilbur's somber ballads - Fundy called them that, which got him smacked in the head by his uncle, who started to praise his brother's music, calling it the best thing that could've happened to his ungrateful ears.

"Well, at the moment, all we're planning is some peace and quiet. The war is over, there's no need to rush to start another one." Wilbur answered her, helping to collect wood and other materials necessary to build a small, cozy bakery.

Niki pretended not to notice the three youngest members of L'manburg sneaking into her house every morning, stealing pastries she left on the windowsill.

Jack brought the thieves to her door, forcing them to apologize and return the treats. As soon as Niki turned around, he grabbed a tray of cookies himself and ran out of the building, laughing devilishly, while his betrayed friends swore at him.

On another occasion, she had organized a small picnic just outside the walls, so as to have a view of the entire town that was developing within the borders of L'manburg. Jack joined her when he returned from the patrol, nibbling on an apple pie she had baked in her spare time.

"Are you a hybrid?" he asked curiously. Niki smiled warmly, shaking her head.

"No, my whole family didn't have much contact with magic."

“Ah, yep, that happens. I had several ancestors who manifested, but whether I inherited magical blood or not is a question mark. But if I were to manifest, I'd like to be a Blaze."

"Why?" She asked curiously, at which her companion grinned.

"Because then Sapnap would have to live with the knowledge that I'm better than him for the rest of his life. I could literally set his dreams on fire." He laughed diabolically, and Niki joined him, amused by the vision of an enraged brunet.

"How do?" Tommy called, running over to them and unceremoniously stealing a piece of cake, shoving it into his mouth with muddy hands.

"Ew, have some culture. We need to get Wilbur to check you for fleas." Tommy reciprocated Jack's words with his middle finger, reaching for another slice.

"Hi Tommy." Niki said politely, giggling as the blonde waved at her, then brushed the crumbs off his hands straight at Jack, wiping them on his uniform. "We're having a picnic so we won't waste such a nice day."

"You're hanging out with Jack, so you've already wasted it. Niki, you are the only woman, the best, just after all my wives, or even before them."

"That's sexist." Jack chimed in, getting another middle finger pointed at him as a response.

"So I was wondering if you could encourage my dearest big brother to try to relieve his stress by baking, instead of doing something self-destructive, like trying to steal my best friend and walking into the Nether when he knows full well he should ask me for permission because that's my place? Plus, if we convert his stress into baking, we'll have an endless supply of food."

Niki raised her eyebrows, trying to follow his train of thought.

"Wilbur is trying to steal Tubbo from you? You go to the Nether alone? Wilbur is your brother?"

"Who else would he be, a homeless guy we picked up off the street and declared our leader?" Tommy snorted and Jack coughed, trying to hide his amusement.

“The way he smells makes it possible to believe.” He mumbled between coughs. Niki smiled slightly.

“He should wash his uniform, because it's approaching becoming a biological weapon. Maybe this is his grand plan? In case of danger, he'll simply throw it at the enemy."

“Dream will get hit in the face with it and lose consciousness immediately. Gogy will cry and gag as he'd try to take it off." Tommy joined in, laughing. “We can always try to steal it from him and set it on fire, then blame it on Sapnap. Two birds with one stone."

Jack and Niki agreed, possibly planning another war as an excuse to get rid of Wilbur's uniform and replace it with something that didn't look like it had been stolen from a possum pit.

Finally, Niki smiled, returning to Tommy's question.

"I thought Wilbur was your dad. He cares about you a lot and you get along great with Fundy."

“Fundy is adopted, but if anyone asks you, he actually jumped out of Wilbur's big toe, already grown up, like some kind of deity. We've been keeping this version since we've been here, we want to see how much absurd stuff we can add to our stories before the rest lose their patience."

"It's true, I've seen them make Callahan cry, because Tommy told him that Wilbur fucked a fish." Jack interjected, looking thoughtfully towards the Community House.

Tommy clapped his hands.

“Wilbur is my older brother. Our dad is super cool. The greatest of men, the only man ever, the king of the skies, Phil."

"You hyped his name so much I thought it'd be a bit more badass." Jack said as he took another piece of cake. Tommy shoved his hand so that the cake splattered across his face.

"Fuck you, my dad is the best and strongest of all. He has this huge-ass wings and could clart you with one flick. When I manifest, I'll get wings too, and we'll both beat you up for fun."

"Oh, does he come here often?"

Niki sounded polite, because that was her nature. Her anger was quiet and cool, her concern for others warm and pleasant, like spring mornings.

"Actually, I haven't seen him in a few years, but I send him letters every week, so he knows he doesn't have to worry about us."

"Oh, and he's writing back?"

"Not exactly." Tommy frowned, a shadow of concern crossing his face. He looked lost for a moment. “He never replied to me. But he doesn't have to! That's because he's busy! He travels a lot. He's great, you'll meet him for sure, I'm sure he'll visit us soon.”

"Can't wait." Niki said, though it sounded like she was seething, trying to keep herself from saying something hurtful.

Jack looked at Tommy with concern, but the blonde snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You just can't understand, because you're not that independent. Dad knows Wilbur and I can take care of each other. We're not children."

Niki said nothing to these words, but promised to get Wilbur to try spending some time with her at the bakery.

When they finally formed loaves of bread, Niki showed Wilbur, with the patience of a redstone engineer, how to spread them out on a baking sheet and butter them to make their skin crispy.

"You have a hand for it." She said optimistically, when the brunet frowned, staring at his work as if it was about to jump on him.

"I guess I should rather stay with the music."

"It doesn't look bad. You judge yourself too harshly. Sometimes the inside is all that matters."

"Because it could be much worse."

Niki laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. Wilbur's swashbuckling smile betrayed that this had been his intention all along.

They sat in silence, waiting for the bread to finish baking. Wilbur's hair was smeared with flour, as were Niki's cheeks and sweater.

"Tommy has started sewing a uniform for you, so you don't feel left out."

“I didn't know he sews. I sew too! We can do it together! We will be the sewing duo!”

Wilbur laughed.

“Sews, that's a lot to say. But he's learning." He thought of Technoblade, patiently showing Tommy how to make the right stitches. The Piglin, when he set out to do something, either perfected the skill or abandoned it entirely, refusing to just be decent - Wilbur suspected that it might have been an ideology instilled in him by his Bastion, which required absolute perfection.

"Then he'll be the best candidate to help me finish sewing the flag."

"The flag?"

Niki nodded vigorously. She was smiling brightly, clearly proud of her work.

“It is several meters long, to be visible from a distance. Stitching the fabric is a martyrdom, but I promise you, you'll love the end result.”

"If it's your work, I can't doubt it." He said, bowing, slightly mockingly. Niki hit him on the head with a rag, giggling as the mass of flour that had been resting in his hair rose into the air.

They relaxed, resting their elbows on the cupboards.

"So, Tommy told me he was expecting to grow wings. Do you have any idea what kind they would be?"

"A Bluebird." Wilbur answered with a certainty Niki had never heard from him before.

“Oh, I would have expected some red ones. Or large ones, some bird of prey."

Wilbur shook his head, smiling nostalgically.

“If Tommy wakes up one day with wings, they'll be Bluebird's for sure. Blue suits him."

"I think you might look good in blue too."

Wilbur laughed, threw his head back and shook it vigorously.

"I should manifest too, but stress keeps it from happening."

Niki nodded with understanding. She knew many people before she set off in search of her new home. There were various people among them, from those who manifested very late to those who didn't manifest at all.

"If you did, what would you like to be?"

“A fox, to match Fundy. He wouldn't have to look at his traits as a reminder that he'd been in a war. We could pretend he got it from me."

The blonde sighed. Situations were different, and difficult to judge by the same standards, but receiving traits related to trauma was nature's cruelty - manifesting trauma so that it was visible to all, like a scar that never fades, and reminds you every day of what caused it to appear on your skin.

"And you?"

She thought as she stared at the bread rising in the heat. They still had a long time to go before it was ready.

"Well, I'm not a hybrid, but if I had to choose, probably a Merling. I've already seen a pretty big piece of the world on the ground, and the seas have just as much, if not more, to offer. I could live in a shipwreck or build my own underwater empire."

"Start the Pufferfish Monopoly." Wilbur laughed as if he was telling an inside joke. "And then you could lead a revolution and gain independence from the fish around you."

Niki froze, her mouth opening and closing, her expression resembling that of a fish. There was a flash of disbelief in her eyes.

"You didn't..." She whispered in disbelief. At the sight of Wilbur's sharp smile, she began to giggle. "I thought the potions were just rumours! That started your revolution? Seriously?"

"A market without competition is the best market for a manufacturer." Wilbur pursed his lips. "Besides, the reason for the war did change."

"I can't believe it. Coming here was clearly a mistake."

"And yet, I don't see you regretting it."

The general's words were lined with doubt - trying to become better and work on himself was exhausting. There was doubt and a sense of failure; as if opening up to it and anticipating it would make it not so scary if it actually ended up happening. - but Niki merely laughed, slapping him on the shoulder in a friendly fashion, going back to talking about her hypothetical underwater empire that she would rule with an iron fist.

"And if you had to guess, what hybrid do you think I'd be?" She asked with an encouraging smile.

“Probably an ocelot. Or a Stray. Don't look at me like that, you asked!" He raised his hands in self-defense. "You seem quiet, but you're definitely able to handle yourself. Ocelots are fast and seem as friendly as cats, but in reality you have to built that trust. And Strays are silent and deadly. And, to quote Tommy, you're a person that I really wouldn't want to be on the bad side of."

Niki accepted his explanation with amusement.

"I'd say you'd be a donkey because you're stubborn." She smiled sweetly at the sound of his protests. "Or a bear. I see how you care for your loved ones. You defend them like a momma bear defends her cubs."

"I don't like this game anymore, you're just bullying me."

Nick's answer was a sincere smile.

Chapter Text

"And then I said-"

"Tommy, I swear to the gods above and beyond, if this is another cum joke-"

"No one appreciates my artistic genius."

Technoblade, surprisingly enough, began to shake his head from side to side and twitch his ears in agreement with Wilbur. Tommy took an exaggerated breath, staring incredulously at the betrayal unfolding before him.

"Et tu, Brute?"

"Tommy, how did you say it so badly, it's the easiest thing to say, why did you do it with such accent." Techno groaned, covering his ears. The blond smiled mockingly. If there was one thing he was truly proud of, it was causing an existential crisis in everyone he met, especially his loved ones.

Ever since Techno decided to speak to Wilbur, their relationship has changed.

Tommy was convinced that Techno regretted his decision with all his heart, because Wilbur chose him as his teacher of healthy relationships, whatever that meant.

The brunet accepted that the Piglin was not a mindless animal at all, but rather a person who turned out to be more competent than him in many, many fields, although sometimes it was difficult to think of him as an equal.

The days when Wilbur wanted to pounce on Technoblade to make sure he wouldn't steal his brother were still there. Like the ones where he wanted to tell Tommy that he was taking his words back, and that wings belonged anywhere but on his back.

Technoblade didn't seem to change his attitude, but he started to tolerate Wilbur, which was a huge step forward.

Although both brothers suspected that his tolerance was similar to the one he showed towards Nutpig. However, unlike Wilbur, the Hoglin has found its place in Techno's heart.

"Anyway!" Tommy yelled, undaunted by the groans of protest coming from his both companions. "I then said to him: 'But Ponk, this is my first time seeing your tree, how was I supposed to know it was flammable?' And then he fucking banned me from his house!”

"Totally unreasonable of him. Cringe, even." Techno agreed. Wilbur blinked, digesting the information.

"Tommy, please stop trying to start wars, we don't have the budget for that."

“Oh, of course. And do you know what we do have the budget for?" He looked back at Techno, his expression betraying that he had the highest intention of humiliating his older brother. “For buying expensive, luxurious materials to sew not one, but two pastel uniforms! I don't know what's worse, that you act like Fundy is a newborn or that you're simping Niki because she was nice to you once."

"Kinda cringe." Techno added, leaning against a pile of pillows. Each of them was in a richly decorated pillowcase, depicting different scenes referring to Tommy's tales of the Overworld. One had a crookedly embroidered landscape of L'manburg, with a huge flag flying proudly over it.

Wilbur flushed with irritation, frowning and wrinkling his nose.

"I'll sell you two to a wandering trader at the next opportunity, preferably so you can be sold to the circus, since you're both so funny."

Tommy snorted, laughing at his outburst. Something about Technoblade's expression told both humans that he would roll his eyes if he could.

“Imagine being a loving father, cringe. Still better than being an orphan. I hate orphans."

"Aren't you-?" Tommy quickly silenced Wilbur with a scowl on his face.

"This is not an argument you want to start." He warned him dramatically.

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the notorious thumping of the Nether and the grunts of Nutpig, as she wandered somewhere in front of the house.

“If you could choose one place to live, where would it be?”

"A dream house?" Tommy asked, raising his eyebrows. Wilbur nodded.

"Apart from L'manburg, L'manburg doesn't count because it's already perfect." He added quickly. Tommy nodded in agreement, glaring at Techno, who made a sound most simply translated as doubt.

"The red forest, the one where we met." The teen finally said, ending it with a shrug. “There were floating islands and the Warped Forest nearby. It all looked pretty pog together.”

“You wouldn't last a day there with your defective self-preservation instincts. It's like you're trying to piss off every existing Enderman by staring them in the eye until they lose their minds." Techno groaned, believing every word he said. Tommy's desire to make friends with every living thing, however unassuming, was the reason why his fur was showing gray patches.

"Well, maybe they shouldn't be a bunch of massive-"

"ANYWAY!" Wilbur chimed in, covering Tommy's mouth with his hand. He tore it off quickly. His reflexes prepared him for the standard move of his little brother: licking his hand. “I think somewhere along the river. Or in the desert. The desert would be cool. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, maybe with a bigger lake nearby.”

"Mmm, a lifetime supply of sand, you'd never have to pay for food again."

"Exactly." Wilbur agreed, nodding eagerly. "Sand Soup. Sand donuts. Sand steak. So many rarities.”

“I will add that to the reasons why I will never let you in the kitchen, and throw away everything you cook.” Techno said, interrupting the brunet's monologue. The last thing he needed in his life was to argue about the best sand dishes. Or mud, because that's what Tommy's participation in this discussion would lead to.

"What about you?" Asked the teenager, leaning on his elbows on the thick layer of blankets. Whereas Wilbur was sweating as if he had stood in the middle of a pyre, and consuming enough water to fill the Void itself, Techno and Tommy seemed to be immune to the heat, as if they didn't feel it at all.

The two sat tangled in a mass of blankets and quilts, fully clothed, while Wilbur took off his shirt thirty minutes in the visit, wrestling with Tommy as he tried to snatch it from his embrace, presumably to perform a cleansing or an exorcism on the cloth.

Technoblade saw some places in the Overworld thanks to a photo album Tommy brought him one day. With keen interest he devoured information about different places and climatic zones, about countless species of fish and other creatures, about monsters that roamed at night, and about the trees that covered most of the world.

The Overworld had much to offer, much more than the Nether. And while it was the second dimension that was considered deadly, in the Piglin's opinion, the place under the vast skies was much more dangerous, with countless flora and fauna, where each place offered something new, and therefore unpredictable.

"I wish I had a cabin somewhere in the snow, with a view of the mountains." He said dreamily. "I could plan to take over the rest of the world from there, so I'd have countless homes in all places."

"I think conquering the world could be somewhat difficult." Wilbur noticed, smiling amiably. Techno shrugged.

"Uh, give me a day."

"You're joking right?" Wilbur looked at Tommy. "He's joking, right?"

“I think if Techno wanted to, he could've done it. Nothing's difficult for the ones who want it."

"Exactly. See? You just have to have the right attitude." The Piglin explained calmly. Wilbur shook his head in pure disbelief.

"I can't stand you."

"It's good to know we feel the same way. The first step to understanding." Techno murmured.

Tommy threw a pillow at him, which bounced off the Piglin's snout and landed on his lap. He growled a warning, and Wilbur immediately straightened up, but Tommy's expression indicated that it was more of a taunt than an actual annoyance.

The teen, taking advantage of the fact that both his hands were already functional - thanks to the patience of Ponk, who, somehow, despite the blond's chaotic manner, showed enough understanding not to sew his mouth shut and quit his job. - jumped on his friend, who instinctively caught him in midair and knocked him to the floor.

Technoblade squealed as he let go of Tommy's shirt and knelt beside him, sniffing his body carefully, checking that the impact on the floor had done him no harm. The teenager patted his muzzle, tilted his own head back and made a sound that was sounded like a sneeze.

This calmed the Piglin, who proceeded to wrestle with the boy, allowing himself to be knocked over and overpowered by his human noodle-arms.

Wilbur made a small move, contemplating joining in their fun, but was interrupted by the growl of Techno, who shot him a murderous glare out of habit, dropping its ears low.

"Okay, understood, maybe another time." He said throwing his hands up. "Or never!" He added quickly as the growl got a little louder.

Tommy burst out laughing and put his whole body on the Piglin's chest, probably to keep him in place. Pinned to the floor, Technoblade let out a series of low squeals.

"Oh no, what am I going to do now?" he asked, dragging out the syllables of each word.

"You're my bitch now!"

Tommy raised his hand in victory, losing his balance and advantage over Techno, who quickly thrust his head forward, pressing it against the teenager's stomach and knocking him backwards. Tommy fell with a loud and exaggerated groan.

"Wil, he's bullying me. Tell him I'm the one that should win."

"I thought the best one wins?"

Techno laughed, confusing the brunet. He shook his head and sat up, then helped Tommy back into a sitting position.

"In piglish games, when we teach the piglets to fight, we give them a chance to win if they use the move they have been taught well enough." He nodded at Tommy and pricked his ears up. "You took your arm off my chest and held it up in the air, it changes where your center of gravity is and makes it harder to balance."

"Balls." Tommy muttered, looking at his hand as if it, not his decision, were to blame for his loss. Techno held his own against it, huffing encouragingly.

“It was a good fight. You made good use of the opportunity." He complimented monotonously, but his tail was wagging as vigorously as it used to at the sight of fresh potatoes.

"Of course, I'm the best, after all."

"So you're teaching him to fight?" Wilbur asked. They both nodded, Tommy a little more vigorously.

"There are rules." The teen explained. “The sword is an extension of one's hand. Analyze your opponent and take advantage of their weaknesses. Deception makes victory. Don't pull the tail, it's a shitty move. Keep your balance."

"Wouldn't it be easier to win if you pulled the tail?"

"It's like pulling a man by the hair. Dirty move, dirty win. You can apply this move, but you are stepping to a low level. Rather, you rely on simple strikes." Techno explained, surprisingly patiently.

"What made you decide to teach him? Did Tommy harass you until you agreed?" He asked with a biting smile, which was accompanied by a loud cry of objection from his brother.

“You drag him into wars anyway. Since you're doing this, I want to make sure he'll be able to get out of them alive." The Piglin said dryly, flattening his ears again, definitely judging him.

Wilbur sighed internally, remembering that sometimes you had to take small steps towards the ultimate progress.

The ones he took in his relationship with Techno were definitely one of smallest ones.

As the days passed, L'manburg began to look more like a country than a war front. Most of the holes in the ground left over from the dynamite had been filled in—Jack complained of back pain from lugging bags of sand for days.

Niki, with the help of Tommy, completed the flag that flew proudly over the entire emerging city.

Together, Tommy and Wilbur delivered the blackstone from the Nether to repair the holes in the walls, bantering with each other in the process and having a contest for creating the most elaborate insult for Eret.

Tubbo, in accordance with his intention from the beginning of L'manburg, and settling anywhere in general, managed to bring bees into the new country. They flew merrily around the garden he had created. Tubbo tried to leash several of them, fearing the psychopathic tendencies of most Essempe members.

Fundy ran around trying to help everyone, whether it was baking bread with Niki and helping her decorate the bakery, or spending time with Wilbur, paving the roads, squealing with excitement every time his father addressed him with praise, hiding his satisfaction under the guise of irritation.

As Wilbur and Tommy had established, they both sought to rely on relationships with others rather than relying only on themselves.

So the older brother spent more time with his son, teaching him how to play the guitar - and praising how far he had come with it (thanks to Tommy's lessons, but he didn't need to know that).

Tommy was encouraged by both Tubbo and Techno - spontaneously and quite by accident, at different times, but in unison nontheless - to spend some time with other people as well.

Tubbo was a bit dependent on Tommy, a bit like the blond one was on Wilbur, but it was much easier for teenagers to control that and, despite their relative dependence, remain completely separate people, with their own hobbies and interests.

Besides, Tubbo was an introvert, so he also needed some time for himself. And while he was lenient with Tommy's need for 24-hour supervision, as he called it, he openly expressed his own needs, such as at least one day set aside for sitting alone, working on his projects.

Tommy was pretty sure the brunette was just working on long-range, mass-destruction weapons that violated many different laws, including all of human rights, and he didn't want anyone to make his arrest possible—as if they hadn't fought an entire war against the police oversight, whose role was mainly played by Sapnap.

Techno, on the other hand, though he would love to keep Tommy in the Nether and never let him out of his lair, recognized that he should spend time with people.

Plus, was worried about the blond's constant attempts to climb onto Nutpig's back whenever he looked away from him.

So the teen, when Tubbo needed a break from his company and Techno decided that Tommy needed to talk to others, would take walks along the Prime Path, usually spending his time irritating members of the enemy nation, leaving graffiti and pranks on Ponk or Sapnap, and then fleeing to L'manburg and swearing to Wilbur that he wasn't trying to start another war.

One day, however - the same day he learned with great regret that Ponk had reinforced his lemon tree with fire retardant substances - he was caught by Sam, who put an end to his wandering around aimlessly.

"Ponk sacrifices cats. You can't tell me they don't deserve it." Tommy objected, pointing at the roaming animals.

Sam laughed, and Tommy decided that it sounded like a warm, slow summer afternoon. Green patches covered his skin, some small, resembling freckles.

"That's because I'm part creeper." He explained with amusement. “Ponkie takes my traits a bit too seriously. I like cats, I just can't be around them very much."

"Ah, a fellow fan of some good ol' pussy, I see." Tommy said with a sharp smile, to which Sam responded with a sudden laugh. His mouth opened in a strange way, the skin on his cheeks opening with them, creating two symmetrical holes on both of his cheeks, revealing his jawbone. His teeth were sharp and he had more of them than a regular human.

The inside of his mouth was black and his tongue was yellow. As he took a deep breath, trying to control his laughter, smoke poured out of his mouth.

The fluffy ears on the sides of his head, somewhat reminiscent of a lynx, rose involuntarily when he noticed that Tommy was watching him.

He began to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment, giving him an uncertain smile.

“I usually wear a mask because my breath is a bit toxic, but sometimes it's good to go for a walk without it. Ponk would yell at me because I have filters in it to help my lungs work."

"It's so cool!" Tommy admitted with delight. Sam relaxed and sat on the ground. He patted the spot next to him, and the blonde obediently joined him.

“Creeper hybrids can take on a variety of characteristics. I got four arms and four lungs, but there are people with four legs, or a face more like a creeper." He explained, raising his hands and presenting them to Tommy. "The second pair of lungs is a standard, human and the additional ones, that can take what a normal creeper breathes."

"What's the difference?"

“Well, people inhale oxygen and turn it into carbon dioxide. Creepers inhale toxic gases and exhale smoke filled with their components. Without the second lungs, our human part would be finished off by the hybrid one."

Tommy nodded, registering only half of the words that left the man's mouth.

"But four hands are useful for building, and I don't have to go back for things as often, and my dog, Fran, can get a whole set of petting." Sam said with a cheerful smile.

"The fact that you have a dog and you haven't told me is a war crime." Tommy announced, feigning a grim tone. He shook his head in disappointment, muttering something about expecting something better from him.

The Creeper hybrid laughed again, ruffling Tommy's hair with one hand, keeping one on the grass and two clutching his stomach as if that would keep him from giggling.

“You seem like a nice person, Tommy. I'll have to introduce you to Fran sometime." He looked at the sky and winced slightly. "I guess it's time for me to go. I promised George I'd check his heating. He's been complaining lately that one of the pipes heating his floor has been malfunctioning."

"Gogy has a heated floor in the house? That's some rich people shit." The blond muttered, while making a mental note to ask Sam to install such heating in his house someday - Wilbur loved airing and cool temperatures a bit too much, and he often argued with him about which of them was supposed to have a duvet and mattress on a given day.

L'manburg was a bit poor and Tommy didn't have the heart to take Techno's pillows and quilts. He didn't want to look pathetic in front of the Piglin and have his pity.

But he intended to excite Sam's pity if it would keep him warm at night.

Tommy saluted him good-bye and headed for the harbor, thinking of how to spend the rest of the day.

"You could stop painting penises on the walls of the Community House."

"You could stop being homeless, then I'd paint them on the walls of your house."

Dream jumped into the place next to Tommy and shoved his hands into his green hoodie's pockets. They walked together for a while. The teen looked at him with a crooked eye, while the man happily whistled some tune.

"Shouldn't you be with your boyfriend? I heard he's in need because the heating in his house broke down. He definitely needs you to keep him warm with your own body heat, Big D."

"Don't call me that." Dream grunted. He turned his face towards Tommy. The blond resisted the urge to run away. The emotionless smile painted on the mask became strangely unsettling every time Dream quieted down.

"Fucking creep." Tommy muttered in Piglin, frowning and shoving his hands into his pockets. His uniform felt oddly tight.

"You're interesting, Tommy. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"All the women that ever met me." He barked reluctantly. The feeling of entrapment intensified, although Dream looked relaxed, as if he was simply trying to talk to him.

“I think Wilbur has a bit of a bad effect on you. With the right leadership, you could go quite far."

“I don't need any teachers and leaders. A big man like me only follows himself. Wilbur just agrees with what I want to do."

“Well, if you ever decide to reach your true potential, you can count on me. You haven't manifested yet, Tommy. There are many different features that can prove useful in the long run. With the right routing, you could get a high-value hybrid form instead of something miserable. Moobloom, wither, dragon, phantom." Even though his eyes were invisible, Tommy could feel his gaze on him, fully analyzing his figure. “You have great potential. It would be a pity not to use it."

"Fuck off man." The teen muttered without conviction, turning his head away from him and stubbornly looking towards the port.

Dream shrugged off the subject and raised his hand to wave at the person leaving the boat.

The fluffy yellow wings puffed up and spread out in full splendour. The young man entered the pier, lowering his backpack onto its boards and adjusting the beanie that was falling from his head.

He ran to the two watching him and eagerly shook Tommy's hand, who held it out to him out of reflex. He did it so vigorously that he began to shake the teenager's entire body. A wide smile appeared on his face.

"Nice to meet you, man! Quacky, at your service!"

Chapter Text

Quackity was used to traveling all the time, even if it would seem that with his constant whining about sleeping on the grass instead of a double-mattress bed, he was unfit for an adventurer.

He grew up in one of the larger cities, famous for its trade and well-developed economy. His mother belonged to the city council, which meant that from an early age he had to get familiar not only with business, but also with politics. She probably wanted him to take over her role in the future. The sweet and charming ways of the nepotism.

Even though officials were democratically elected, family connections had a big impact on the candidate's chances, especially when they came from families that were adored by the rest of the citizens.

And so, Quackity began getting the necessary education pretty early, which didn't bother him at all, since he begged his mother to take him to the city council's meetings. He was one of those people who revealed their ambitions as soon as they learned how to talk.

When Quackity was five years old, the chief farmer, who was also the head of the agriculture sector, disappeared while traveling through the Nether.

Trade expeditions were typical for such prosperous places.

Squidkid, as the townspeople used to call him, despite him being a vole hybrid, - this nickname was given to him after he was involved in a so called squid incident - was a person who was able to feed half the continent on his own. His fields stretched almost beyond the horizon.

He was a bit overprotective of them - whenever anyone tried to enter his farmland, he would chase after them with a hoe, cursing and shouting something about breaking the mechanization of his farms - a system that only he fully understood.

At a time when the city's funds were mainly obtained by exporting the crops of one farmer - he had employees who were well trained by him, but the fact remained that he was the only large landowner - it was important that transactions ran as smoothly as possible.

No one quite knew why Squidkid and four others decided to travel to one of the neighboring cities via the Nether, especially since this mode of transport had been out of use for years, when the city authorities realized that the portal was too close to the Bastion.

No one returned from the trip.

When Quackity was seven years old, he followed a small party towards the Bastion, trying to stay out of sight. One of the people who decided to meet the Piglins, tired of the constant difficulties created by the presence of their headquarters, was his mother.

They probably hoped to bribe the Piglins, to communicate with them in some way, persuade them to move the Bastion, or at least allow people to travel safely, without fear of never returning from the lava-filled dimension.

But the keep was quiet, and it wasn't until Quackity crept closer, deftly avoiding the soldiers guarding the exits, that he realized why.

There was a metallic smell in the air. The walls were wet, and on closer inspection Quackity found they were smeared with blood. It adorned the corridors, dripping from the walls and creating a macabre imitation of a river with its streams. The flames in the lamps flickered rapidly, changing from warm red to blue, and the ground beneath the loose bricks grew darker as the blood seeped into it.

Cries seemed to emanate from the stained sand. The whole fortress seemed to breathe, despite the smell of death in the air.

The boy wanted to step back, when he saw a Piglin, lying on the floor.

Its fur was covered in blood, which spilled from its torn belly like wine from ornate goblets. The skin was in tatters, and the guts spilled out of the hole, dragging across the floor as if the Piglin was trying to crawl away from its captor.

Quacky began to back away. He turned into another corridor, where he tripped over the still-cooling bodies of two Piglins. The larger of them clutched the young in its arms. Its skull was cracked, and on the wall under which it was lying was a wet stain, slowly flowing down to the floor.

He was only seven years old, so he started screaming, begging his mother to carry him out of the Bastion and take him home. Though his legs were shaking, he began to run down the dark corridors, panting heavily as he passed blood-spattered lamps whose lights stained everything around them a cruel red, and the mangled bodies of the Bastion's inhabitants.

He saw a Piglin standing at the end of the corridor, surrounded by two men. Broken chains were tangled around its wrists. It wore only a loincloth, and clutched a tangless sword in his hand. The blade dug into its skin, but it gripped it anyway.

There was a rope hanging from its neck.

One of the men grabbed it, trying to pull the Piglin to the ground and force it to lower its weapon. The creature squealed in something akin to terror, though to Quackyty it sounded more like the shriek of a wild animal, desperate and ready to fight.

It lunged at the soldier, causing him to lose his balance as the rope he was pulling loosened. The creature sank its tusks into the man's neck, tearing it apart. It then deftly redirected its attention to the other man, driving the blade into his stomach before he could react.

The Piglin stood up, bathed in blood, and illuminated by the blueish light from the lamps, looking like an angry deity. A blood god.

Quackity ran down one of the corridors, covering his mouth with his hand and tripping over more corpses - Piglin mixed with human.

The monster following his trail wasn't running. It walked slowly, the blood-stained blade slithering across the floor, making an unpleasant sound as it struck the protruding stones and bricks.

Even now, Quackity hasn't been able to say how he managed to get out. Perhaps another soldier tried to attack the monster following him. Perhaps he had lost it in the maze of corridors.

The next thing he remembered was his mother's embrace, and her warm voice.

Quackity hated the Nether.

When he was fifteen years old, wings sprouted from his back, like the ones that adorned his mother's. She praised him and danced, holding his hands, with tears in her eyes and a proud smile. He was treated like something special and unique.

At the age of sixteen, he set out into the world, fed up with education and the boring commercial politics of a city where he had no chance of achieving the success he dreamed of. His mother hugged him, begging him to promise her that he would take every possible precaution.

"I'm almost an adult now." He groaned in displeasure as she cupped his face in her hands, the way she used to do when he was younger. A melodious laugh escaped her lips, followed by a sigh.

"You're always going to be a child for me. I raised you well. My young boy, so bright and so smart. Promise me you'll be safe, or I will beat you up with a chair for ruining my hard work." She joked, although her eyes seemed sad, similiar to the times when she tried to console him when he woke up from a dream turned into a nightmare.

"I'll be careful." He promised, squeezing her hand.

At the age of seventeen, he met Schlatt, with whom he collaborated for a short while, sharing ideas for his own business.

The young hybrid, only two years older than him, offered advice with a roguish smile, interjecting biting remarks that became much milder over pints and evening visits to karaoke bars.

"We could sell your feathers and tell people they're gold."

"So even though you're a ram, you're actually a donkey."*

Schlatt laughed loudly and waved at the bartender, ordering another round.

Quackity enjoyed his company. He had never questioned his fear of the Nether, as long as the brunet had never questioned his fear of water.

Despite being an asshole, and a one that was hungry for power too, Schlatt managed to impress people. He had a charisma that was enough to convince others, even if in the short term, to do as he pleased.

One day he tapped at the newspaper, drawing the duck hybrid's attention to a picture of a somewhat pathetic-looking man in a blue uniform, with a serious expression and oversized glasses on his nose.

"Well, i think he looks a little g-"

"It's Wilbur Soot."

"Schlatt, my man, that means absolutely nothing to me."

The man grinned sharply, then raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the table.

"A local musician decided to found a state, so that he could have a free hand in making potions."

"And?"

"And, he is the son of the one and only: Angel of Death. Not everyone is as incompetent as you. Some people know where to ask to find useful answers."

Quackity raised an eyebrow, not looking impressed. Schlatt boasted several times that he had managed to snatch an item from Philza, that the latter had been looking for for years. The ram was able to track him down and get this mysterious artifact almost right in front of him, while doing so without leaving any traces.

Quackity had never been able to figure out what this inconceivable object was. Schlatt maintained that the only thing he should worry his pretty head about was that his secret ace up his sleeve could provide a nice bargaining chip.

"And why should I care?"

“Well, you said you liked playing politics. Is there anything better than a new country? It's like a playground for you! The boy's inexperienced, his right hand is a child! You wanted an opportunity to prove yourself? Take advantage of it, because you have it right in front of you. Imagine being known as one of the leading politicians of an emerging country. You could make a good deal out of it, after all, everyone starts somewhere.”

If only Schlatt was with him, maybe he would know how to play the game well enough to gain Soot's trust. He caught on pretty quickly that Quackity was after power, and refused to give it to him.

Too bad that the ram hybrid was busy with his new business plan – or a business scam, as the man preffered to call it.

Creating a new currency seemed interesting enough, after all, who wouldn't want to have money named after them?

Quackity rubbed his eyes sluggishly, pushing away the haunting memories.

"If you only knew what an asshole Wilbur is." He muttered to himself, as if Schlatt were about to read his thoughts.

While the idea of gaining power and recognition in L'manburg turned out to be a failure due to Wilbur's stubborn ambitions and his distaste for strangers who didn't fit into his vision of the ideal country, Quackity found it hard to completely regret his decision to come to the new place.

Tommy turned out to be one of the nicest people he was able to meet. It didn't take long for them to start refering to each other as brothers, driving Wilbur into a quiet frenzy. They clicked together, and Quackity knew that it didn't happen often to people like him.

The teenager smuggled the brunette into L'manburg, spending a lot of time listening to stories of his adventures and sharing his own. When Quackity heard Tommy swear that he was about to get wings, he decided to teach him how to care for them.

The blond was careful in how he sorted the feathers and straightened the ones that were bent. His fingers seemed to be made to preen wings. He listened attentively to Quackity's advice, promising to note everything down on paper, as soon as he would be able to get it.

And so the days passed, and Quackity felt a growing sense of dread. As part of ignoring it, he stole one of Dream's masks and then marched with a giggling Tommy to L'manburg, ignoring Wilbur's indignation.

"You could at least pretend! Tommy! Quackity is not allowed here!”

"Ay man, I'm not Quacky."

"Exactly Wilbur, I think we need to check your eyes, it's Mexican Dream."

Wilbur looked like he had choked on something. He looked in disbelief at Tommy, then very slowly moved his gaze to the brunet, who was grinning at him behind the mask. He buried his face in his hands and sighed, sounding like a dying pterodactyl.

"Dream is not allowed here either."

"But it's not Dream! It's Mexica-"

"Tommy, you're grounded. Go help Tubbo in the garden. Jack will supervise you for the rest of the week."

"But Will!"

“No discussion. That's an order." The brunet looked after the teenager who was cursing him under his breath, reluctantly moving towards his friend, quickly changing his face to an expression of absolute joy when he was closer to Tubbo.

"What is your problem?" Quackity asked reproachfully, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don't know what you're up to, but I don't like it, Big Q. I know how people like you function. You want power, but you won't find it in my country."

"Wow, Wilbur, would it occur to you that I actually like spending time with Tommy? Not everyone is your enemy." He groaned in irritation. His wings fluttered involuntarily. Wilbur continued to stare at him with his unchanging, stern gaze.

“You yourself told me that you wanted to be a member of my government because you believed in your political talents. You are undermining my opinion and my position. Power doesn't come from pretty words, Quackity. Power comes from swords and dynamite and blood. I'm trying to build something bigger, not run a daycare where you can fly around and pretend you're a drug dealer like a bad comedian."

"Woah, man, don't be so fast." He pointed finger at him and frowned. "Aren't you the one who's pushing this whole fight with words, not swords shit to others?"

“Idea-building does not equate to the true application of power. Words didn't win us the war."

"That's true. Tommy did."

"This is not your place to-"

"What, to point out that you used child soldiers? Or to show you that the only thing you're really good at is manipulation? Deal with it, Wilbur, what's the real difference between you and a dictator? How are you different from Dream? You took power not because your people wanted it, but because you were in the strongest position of them all, not even giving them a choice."

Quackity stuck his middle fingers in his direction and started toward the front gate.

The glider feathers of his wings were shorter than they should have been, though no one could notice. Few people actually knew enough about birds.

Dream unfortunately knew how they functioned.

"You are a member of my land. And I have some rules. Flying gives you an unnecessary advantage. If you want to fly, go join L'manburg." He said a few days after Quackity's arrival, scissors clutched in his hand. This wasn't the welcome committee Quackity had expected.

"Fuck you, Wilbur." Quackity whispered again, turning to face the general.

The man stood, indifferent, like a statue made in stone. Some of the citizens that were passing by looked, curious, at the two, but with a new country, there was too much to do to get involved with others' business.

Surrounded by people, he looked like a god standing among the men, and Quackity felt like a mere mortal, shoved in the shadow of an uncaring being.

He clenched his fists and marched out, his wings spread as if ready for a flight that never came.

Chapter Text

"You see? I was definitely right about it being the Sirius constellation." Tommy grunted contentedly, turning on his side and staring at Tubbo, who narrowed his eyes and sighed in obvious displeasure.

"I prefer to watch the clouds." He finally said, looking away from the night sky.

"Do you actually see anything?" Fundy asked. He lay between them, but a little lower, his heels digging into the damp sand. As he draped it over the blanket they were lying on, Tommy and Tubbo began shoving him onto the grass, ignoring his yelp of surprise.

"But really, why the stars? Boss man, if you want, I can tell you all about making explosives that cause explosions able to wipe out all of humanity."

"You can just say you're too stupid to understand the wonders of constellations." Tommy snorted and immediately moved away, rolling to the other side of the blanket, narrowly avoiding his friend's fist. He turned and looked up at the sky again.

Fundy climbed onto the cloth, probably smearing mud and grass on it, then lay down next to his uncle and joined in the observation of the infinite space. He frowned and his ears drooped as if in disappointment.

"The stars are the same everywhere." Tommy explained, cuddling up to Fundy, although if anyone had noticed, he would have pushed him away, explaining that it was a surprise attack, not a sign of affection. "Dad once told me that no matter where he is, we're both looking at the same sky."

And there was a specific kind of comfort in this thought, difficult to understand for people who haven't experienced a deep longing and an even deeper conviction that the bond they had with the person they lack is stronger than any distance.

Tommy believed he stared at the stars at the same time as Philza did every night, as if his father could feel when his son needed to be reminded of his presence, however distant.

When he was younger, he and Wilbur made their own constellations, looking for connections that didn't exist. It was started by their father, who took them up a hill once, and placed them on his spread wings, whose feathers protected them from the damp and cold grass.

"I don't see a dipper." Tommy sighed dramatically and scowled, puffing out his cheeks and looking reproachfully at the sky, as if it were its fault. "Maybe of a bunch of bees, if I squint."

Wilbur looked at the four-year-old with a raised eyebrow. He propped himself up on one elbow, smiling slyly as their father hissed in pain.

"Maybe you're too stupid for that? Stargazing is for big people." He said casually. Tommy's lips formed into a perfect horseshoe and his lips began to tremble dangerously. He grabbed Phil's arm, getting his full attention.

"Dad, Wilbur is awful to me." He said accusingly in a trembling voice. Philza wrapped his arm around him and rolled his eyes.

"Wilbur is a bit dramatic." He explained with amusement. “Maybe he envies you how smart you are. After all, you're a star yourself. Our little sun."

Tommy instantly forgot about his foul mood and the deep resentment he had felt towards his older brother for the entire twenty seconds. The avian took his tiny hand and guided it towards the stars.

"If it's too hard to remember the constellations, we can make our own." He said with a gentle smile. Wilbur leaned back on his wing, sprawling on it in a dramatic pose and mumbling something about Tommy being clingy.

"There's a killer whale right over there." He said aloud, catching Tommy's attention. He pointed to the night sky, where, apart from the stars, were loops and lines slightly brighter than black. "See that big swirl with a star in it? It's her eye."

He began to eagerly explain his constellation, patiently explaining their positions to his brother, and promising to draw their own map of the sky.

Tommy quickly joined in, pointing to the brightest of the stars and declaring it the Big Man constellation, then naming one of the smaller and fainter constellations Henry.

Philza didn't look at the sky. He stared at his sons, who lay there, bantering, hands up to the sky, faces laughing. Tommy crossed to his other side, laying down next to Wilbur, so he could see more clearly where his hands were pointing.

The boy gesticulated wildly, using the sky as his own map, naming various stars and waving his hands at them as they disappeared behind lazily drifting clouds.

Phil stared at the two boys with stars in his eyes, ignoring the sky as if they were the only light in the night he needed.

Tommy saw his look—something proud and sad at the same time. He quickly went back to naming uncreated places and beings, myths yet to be written.

Before his next voyage, Philza made a map of the sky according to what his sons had devised, and hid it in his bag to protect it from the eyes of others.

"I don't see any constellations." Fundy finally sighed, with clear resignation, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Then make up your own." Tommy muttered, as if it was obvious.

"It's like looking at the clouds! You pick a few and figure out what they remind you of." Tubbo interjected, abandoning his attempts at revenge for the previous insult. “These, for example, are a swarm of giant bees. One day they will come down to earth and eat all humans, ushering in a new era."

Tommy and Fundy moved away from their friend a little, deciding to keep a safe distance.

Eventually, the three of them fell asleep on the grass and were found by Quackity, who was sneaking into L'manburg. His yellow wings were spread in their full glory and fluttered stubbornly as he tried to leap over the wall.

Tommy jumped and woke up faster than ever in his life, greeting the man with a wide grin on his face.

"Tommey!"

"Big Q!"

"Tubbo." Tubbo muttered languidly, rolling over onto his side. The sun was blazing in full force, announcing that afternoon was approaching, and the still sleeping Fundy and Tubbo were risking a tan that would cost them some pain for the next few days.

Tommy opened his mouth to warn them and suggest moving into the shadows, but then his friend gave him the middle finger without even lifting his head from the surface of the blanket.

"If you're going to be loud, do it far away or I'll be forced to commit war crimes."

"Big man, you've already committed war crimes, just like the rest of us." Tubbo opened one eye and gave him a look that promised long suffering. Tommy stepped back, deciding that he was respecting his life.

Quackity took him by the arm and led him out of L'manberg, climbing the walls again. They both looked around for Wilbur, who had apparently decided to spend his day with Niki, helping her in the bakery.

It's been a few days since the brunet arrived in Essempe, He quickly became one of Tommy's top three favorite people - the first being his dad exequo with Techno, the second Tubbo. Wilbur was a mediocre sixth, which made him indignant, but Tommy had to favor Fundy over him because of being his uncle, and Niki was definitely cooler than Wilbur, who was smelling worse and worse every day. Jack was ranked last because of being bald and thus a Wilbur impersonator.

Upon hearing this, he poured a bucket of cold water over Tommy and threatened to throw him down a well.

Quackity pushed Tommy forward with his wings, then folded them, pressing them against his back. He shoved his hands into his sweatpants' pockets and lazily walked forward.

"You want to learn how to cut up the puffer fish and poison Wilbur's food?" He asked with a mischievous smile. Tommy shook his head, grinning widely.

“I still need him, Big Q. How's the big ol' Essempe? Is Dream still as much of a dick as ever?"

"Oh, definitely. One day, I'm going to found a country myself, just to beat his ass. He deserves to be kicked off the pedestal he put himself on." He grunted, wrinkling his nose and frowning.

Tommy wasn't paying much attention when Wilbur and Quackity met - he was present in the room as the general's right-hand man, but as soon as the political gibberish came out of their mouths, the blond began to think about what an iconic cooking duo Niki and Techno would be. He could almost taste the baked goods he imagined, especially the potato cake that he found about in one of Niki's cookbooks.

Techno would kill for this recipe, Tommy was sure.

"It's not your place to lecture me on how to run my country." Wilbur hissed, causing Tommy to stop thinking about the merits of introducing his sounder to the baker.

Quackity's feathers were ruffled. Even the ones on his face and around his ears rose up, giving him a wild and somewhat feral look.

“We both know my ideas are good. What, are you afraid you won't be the only one in power?"

"You forget who you are next to me. Quackity, you're so insignificant, that you're not even in my shadow. You enter my country, acting as if it belongs to you, and you try to get into my office. We fought, with swords and blood, to be able to stand in this room. You just came for what was finished, ready to pick up your portion from a meal you didn't even put in an ounce of effort in. I fought one power-hungry man until a real war was declared. I'm not going to put power in the hands of someone like him."

Wilbur stood proudly, his back straight, his face solemn. He glanced briefly at Tommy, clearly dissatisfied that Tommy hadn't taken care to look grown up and dignified like he should've in his role.

When Quackity left the room, slamming the door behind him and barely fitting with the fluffed and fluttering wings, the brunet fell on the desk, hiding his face in his hands and sighing.

Tommy shifted from foot to foot, nervously lifting himself off the floor from time to time and glancing at his brother.

"Tommy, you know that I love you, right?" Wilbur finally mumbled. He relaxed his shoulders and hunched his back, and his expression showed easy-to-read emotions that Tommy had grown accustomed to over the years.

The teen walked over to him and grabbed his hand, bringing it to his own.

Wilbur's hand was larger, slightly slimmer, and his nails were jagged from habitual biting. Tommy's was filled with scratches and stains - from grass, dyes and ink.

Regardless, they fit together like pieces of the same puzzle.

"Bad day?" He finally asked, quietly. Wilbur nodded. Once, but definitely with determination.

"You want to talk about it?"

"I don't know if I should."

"I'm pretty sure that smothering your feelings inside is even worse than codependency, big man." Tommy muttered with feigned amusement.

Wilbur shook his head, but the smile the blond boy had been expecting didn't appear on his face.

"It's just too much sometimes. Quackity wants power, so I can't let him hang out in L'manburg. He's smart and cunning, and therefore dangerous." He stared into space, losing his focus. He finally looked at Tommy. He looked like he was holding back from saying something. "You know that I love you, right?" He repeated.

"I know, Wil. I won't leave you, remember? You're not alone."

Wilbur nodded and put Tommy's hand to his forehead. His shoulders were shaking, and Tommy, as usual, felt overwhelmingly helpless.

So while Tommy didn't quite understand why Wilbur was so opposed to Quackity - ambition was supposed to be a positive quality, after all - he tried not to let it sway his judgment.

He decided - Quackity was cool. Fun, full of ideas and energy, and loud. According to Tommy, the best possible qualities.

"Dream sucks, but at least you can bully Bad." Tommy said with a reassuring smile. Quackity nodded respectfully, as if the teenager's words were one of life's fundamental truths.

“One day I'll ask him out on a date and then I'll serenade him. And then I'll steal his son from him to finish him off."

"I love long-term plans."

“We have to write a song with swear words. I will dedicate it to him.” The brunet laughed, poking Tommy so that he lost his balance.

They jostled for a while, talking about starting their own drug empire, making fun of Wilbur's baldness, and fighting over Quackity's beanie.

"If you're not balding yourself, prove it."

"Tommy, my man, we can talk about it!" Quackity jumped back with a squeak, colliding with someone and landing in a jumble of limbs and feathers.

"Uh, it's you." George grunted in boredom as he adjusted his shirt and pushed the avian away, who screamed indignantly as the man touched his feathers.

"Chill out man!"

Quackity got up and flapped his wings, brushing off leaves and twigs. George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Really, some people don't have time for such childishness. It's enough that I had to get up earlier than usual."

"Before noon?" Tommy asked innocently, smiling at the look of irritation slowly spreading across the man's face.

"Gogy, would you like to sell drugs with us?" Quackity leaned against their victim's shoulder. George exhaled loudly, looking at them tiredly.

"The last time anyone tried it, a country was created."

“No no, this time it's normal business, we want to sell good stuff. You look like you need something to relax."

"You're both so stupid." George groaned and turned away, leaving them alone. Quackity looked after him confusedly.

"He's the one Dream trusts so much, huh?"

Tommy shrugged, ready to forget about meeting the man as soon as he disappeared between the trees.

“Gogy isn't very active. But he can fight. The fucking archer he is. He's competent, I guess." He murmured. Quackity didn't take his eyes off the place where the brunet had been standing.

"Huh."

They spent the rest of the afternoon annoying Bad, counting which one would infuriate him faster, and wandering around the Essempe looking for places to leave vulgar graffiti in.

Tommy smiled when he came back to L'manburg and started towards Wilbur, who was busy listening to Funy and Tubbo, both red-skinned, groaning in pain. Both boys gave him an unfriendly look, probably plotting revenge for letting them fall asleep in the full sun.

"Tommy, productive day?" Wilbur asked cheerfully, ignoring his son's screams about the betrayal the blonde had committed. Tommy grinned and saluted.

"You know how it is, big dubs. I must be everywhere, because the world is starving for Tommy, innit."

"It's going to be starving permanently soon." Tubbo promised. He was ignored.

"I can imagine." Wilbur smiled. "Any plans for tonight?"

"Ah, you know." Tommy kicked a rock on the ground, hitting Fundy in the calf. The boy let out a scream. "I'd like to go where pigs fly, I guess." He said, very subtly.

Wilbur snickered, but nodded.

"May your journey be gentle and safe."

"Don't worry about that. Unlike some people, I can handle a little heat." Tommy said with a jokeful sneer. Wilbur ruffled his hair and wished him good night, quickly drawing the attention of Tubbo and Fundy to distract them from the blond teen.

The portal glowed with purple light, cutting out against the darkening sky. In front of it sat a familiar figure clad in green.

Tommy sighed, painfully and displeased.

"Hi Tommy."

"Big D."

"Don't call me that."

"You do realize that just encourages me?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow. Dream sighed.

"So, a trip to the Nether at this time?"

"Maybe you don't realize, but potion-making stuff doesn't necessarily come from the Overworld, fucker." The teenager muttered, squinting as if to scare his opponent. Dream laughed as Tommy considered whether punching him in the teeth would be worth starting another war.

"Okay then, keep your secrets."

"Oh, I will. I will keep them."

"Remember, if you need a friend, you can count on me."

Tommy walked into the portal wordlessly, waving his middle finger goodbye.

"Fucking weirdo." He mumbled, shaking off the strange interaction and focusing on something far more important – the Piglin that greeted him.

Techno held his hand up, but not too high, so that the teen could reach it. He immediately placed his own on it, and smiled widely.

Techno sniffed it thoroughly, then focused on the bag slung over the boy's shoulder. Tommy handed it to him, shoving it in front of his face.

"Niki baked cookies that I may or may not have borrowed."

"I have a feeling you don't know what the term 'borrow' means." Techno stated dryly, stuffing his entire snout into the bag, marveling at the new scent. His tail was wagging vigorously from side to side and his ears were twitching.

He nodded appreciatively.

"Suitable." He decided, then slung the bag over his shoulder; then grabbed Tommy and lifted him with one hand, tossing him over the other like a sack of potatoes.

When they came to a familiar gorge with a cozy-looking cottage, a Hoglin ran up to them. Nutpig sniffed Tommy's face, who was dangling upside down on Techno's back. The animal squealed contentedly, squeaking as Tommy started petting it.

"You are one with nature." Techno used a piglin phrase, which simplest equivalent was comparing someone to a princess.

Tommy just smiled and let himself be carried to the bedroom.

The walls of the room were adorned with gold and precious stones - which were of no value to the Piglin, but glittered enough to make him consider them worthy of adornment.

In the corner against the wall was a bed, larger than the one in the living room and much cozier. While Techno allowed Wilbur to join them in a pile of fur coats in the next room, the bedroom was an area restricted to Tommy and Techno.

The crown that the blonde had given him as a gift many years earlier lay among various other trinkets among the mass of blankets - all of which the teen recognized as gifts from years ago.

Techno at some point in their separation - when Tommy was busy with the war and mourning Sally, which was the first such loss he experienced in his life - went back to the place where they met and gathered his hoard, moving it to a new place.

He had told Tommy about the trip, and how Nutpig came with him to help, too accustomed to company to be left alone. She obediently allowed him to tie the chests to her sides, transferring his gold in exchange for food.

Tommy entered the den, snuggled up in blankets - he offered Techno to get him some fox fur, but Techno, upon learning what they looked like, threatened to burst into tears if they got hurt. Thus, most blankets were made of wool.

Tommy thought it was hypocritical, because Techno definitely had furs in his bed, but he didn't point it out, fearing a bit the possible outcome. Maybe Techno thought they were synthetic.

In addition to piles of blankets, quilts, and furs, there was moss from Warped Forest, that could easily be used as plush in pillows and duvets. It was perfectly soft, and Tommy had the feeling that if Techno had let him sleep in the blue forest, he would never have left that place again for the sheer comfort of simply sleeping on the ground there.

Tommy leaned against Techno, allowing him to braid his hair and insert various trinkets between the streaks. His eyes wandered over the gold scattered between the folds of the quilts, noticing an unusual object.

A black feather, attached to a chain, with an emerald dangling beside it - small and delicate, set in gold - lay among the treasures.

The teen leaned over and took it between two fingers, studying it intently.

"This is the first gift." Techno said proudly. The blond looked at him in surprise.

He tilted his head to the side. The Piglin shook his head and grunted.

"When I found you in that woods after you scared my dinner-"

"Respect Nutpig, she's more than a meal! She is a strong, independent lady!”

“Mhm, and he inherits it all from you. When I found you and thought, "Oh no, a child, and an orphan too, I'm totally incompetent to do something like this," I carried you to my pit. Like a responsible adult."

Tommy snorted.

Techno hit him with his elbow, just below his ribs.

"After I treated you and you fell asleep, I found this feather. Your pay for help."

Tommy thought for a moment about correcting him, but decided against it. Instead, he focused on something else.

“A feather is a poor payment, isn't it? Wouldn't you prefer something better?"

"No. It was from you. And I've never seen anything like this up close before. Piglins don't like human remains." He frowned and made a quick gesture with his hand – he raised it to his face, then opened it and closed it quickly.

Tommy was offended.

"It's Wilbur who stinks! I exude a lovely floral scent!”

"People just smell weird."

"I don't." Tommy disagreed, crossing his arms over his chest and forgetting his feather. Techno squealed.

"You don't." He agreed.

Tommy cheered up as he looked at him with his big blue eyes. He sniffled and let out a low squeal, causing Techno to instantly relax,

"How do I smell then?" He asked feistyly, watching as his friend tried to clear his mind. His tail was wagging so hard that it stirred the blankets around them.

"Like home." He answered with an honesty that seemed vulnerable. Tommy fell silent. His gaze flicked to the feather for a moment. He turned to Techno and snuggled into him.

"You do too." He said, closing his eyes and listening to the Piglin's slow heartbeat.

It was as if it was beating only for him.

Unfortunately, if there was one rule that guided Tommy's life, it was that nice things don't last long.

When Quackity and Wilbur quarreled again, and Tommy, despite being sent to Tubbo, overheard the younger brunet calling the general a dictator, the teen realized that it was only a matter of time before his brother decided to take some action.

So when Wilbur invited him to walk on the walls together, Tommy wasn't too surprised. For a week, he'd been looking forward to a serious conversation about what had happened—other than being paranoidly told he should choose his friends more carefully.

"Tommy, do you know what L'manburg is to me?"

"I mean, it's your life project? A symphony or some other musical bullshit?" Tommy joked, looking out over the land that rested safely within the walls. Wilbur took a deep breath.

“L'manburg is hope for a better tomorrow. It's a monument I want to leave behind. It's the idea that everyone can find a place to belong." He looked at him with something complicated in his eyes. Tommy had never heard Wilbur say he was proud of him, but it was hidden in every word he said. The teen knew him well enough to know where to look for that reassurance. "L'manburg is you."

Tommy nodded, though his face was as easy to read as his heart.

Wilbur sighed, straightening up and reverting to his role as responsible general.

“But how do we differ from our enemy if we operate on the same principles? Perhaps I judged Quacky's words with too much hostility."

"What do you mean, big man?"

Wilbur looked at him, something strange in his eyes.

"I think we should hold an election."

Chapter Text

Technoblade was clearly not a fan of Wilbur's idea - in fact, if Tommy was being honest, his friend wasn't a fan of anything Wilbur-related.

When he heard about the election, he looked at the teen with the gaze of a mother scolding her child for breaking a vase - which was unfair, considering that it was the elder brother who decided to play democracy.

Wilbur, despite the fact that he was able to communicate with Techno - or rather understand him - unfortunately did not pick up the subliminal messages. He took the wagging of his tail for acceptance of his decision, backed up by a huge enthusiasm on the part of the Piglin; but Tommy recognized perfectly well that the partial movements that Techno's tail made were a bit too mechanical, reminiscent of a pendulum. Too calculated and careful to be a sign of actual joy.

Irritation, on the other hand, seemed to be the perfect word for what the Piglin must have been feeling.

He flattened his ears, lifted his upper lip to reveal tusks - a gesture that Wilbur took for a smile, because, in fact, when Technoblade imitated Tommy's facial expressions, he smiled in a similar way - and nervously shuffled his feet.

He finally looked over at Tommy, cocking his head to the side. The teenager shrank under his intense gaze, almost bending under the feeling of disapproval that Techno directed at them.

"Can't you just be normal and accept the beauty and elegance of anarchy?" He asked in his native tongue, turning sideways to Wilbur and giving his full attention to Tommy.

The blonde felt a bit guilty. Maybe Techno was hoping for a job in their government, considering that he was acting as Wilbur's involuntary therapist, and the fact that they were going to be voting democratically deprived him of the possibility of obtaining a comfortable position on the principle of nepotism.

Maybe he was disappointed that Tommy would have to spend even more time preparing the campaign, which would further limit their meetings and time spent on trying to find a way to bring Techno to the Overworld without fear of him starting to rot and fall apart.

Wilbur decided to join their conversation, not reacting very well to being ignored for more than a minute.

"Oh, we won't lose if that's what you're worried about!" He assured him with almost childlike joy. “We intend to be the only party that will have the right to stand as candidates. People will have no choice but to vote for us. We will win because there will be no other option!”

When Tommy first heard Wilbur's plan, he embraced it eagerly, with lively enthusiasm, screaming about how great they were. After all, they were THE crime bois.

Technoblade closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then lunged at Wilbur, knocking him to the ground and yanking at his hair.

The terrified dark-haired man let out a - very masculine - squeak, and tried to push away the enraged Piglin. He wrestled with him, but unlike Techno, he was built like a twig. A twig that looked like it was getting closer and closer to being broken.

The Piglin shouted at him in his own language, and Tommy was happy to note some of the words in his memory – ones that were perfect insults. Techno didn't use swears, he still knew how to insult someone. His aversion to swearing only made him more creative.

"Okay, while I have to admit that Wilbur does looks like an eel that someone has wrung out like a wet rag, I don't think violence should be our solution." He said helpfully, breaking up their basically one-sided brawl.

Technoblade tucked his tail and dropped his ears to the sides, then began to examine his hands intently. Wilbur meanwhile was trying to style his hair and move away from the Piglin, who was still growling at him.

"It's true, we shouldn't fight in front of the child." The brunet confirmed. Tommy slowly turned to him, frowning.

"I've changed my mind, Techno, smash him to pieces. He doesn't deserve the wonderfulness that I am."

The Piglin barked a laugh, straightening up and leaning over to Wilbur, as if he was about to pounce on him again. When the man jumped back with a squeal, he laughed, and despite the fact that his face was unexpressive, there was an obvious smile on it.

"What is your problem?!" Wilbur yelled, frowning and waving his arms.

"You want to create a corrupt government run by a dictatorship!"

"We've already fought with Dream..." Tommy started hesitantly, but stopped when Techno frowned.

“You deprive people of choice. You should care for them and want what's best for them. If they decide this is your party, then congratulations. What you're about to do is wrong. You might as well impose your rule from above, because it won't make any difference."

Tommy flushed with embarrassment, and Wilbur looked around nervously, avoiding the gaze of both of his companions.

"Maybe they don't know what's good for them." He finally grunted. At the look that Techno gave him – which was albeit implied, his eyes remained as empty as ever - he cringed and closed his mouth.

Tommy thought he should add Techno some eyebrows, preferably with black marker, big enough to match his attitude towards everyone around him. Aggressive eyebrows. They'd definitely come in handy.

"It will be their choice, not yours. Do you want to rule? Do it responsibly." The Piglin growled, his tail wagging rhythmically again, heralding his growing irritation.

Wilbur had problems, and it was hard not to see them. He went from controlling Tommy to, as if involuntarily, trying to control everything else around him. Even if he was considered a good leader, it was obvious that he had certain inclinations and tendencies that could turn out to be unfortunate over time.

"What if no one else comes forward?"

"Then it's a fair win, by default. But if you aren't giving people the opportunity to compete with you, you are mere tyrants."

Wilbur leaned over to Tommy, whispering dramatically in his ear.

"Why did you give him the books on politics?"

“Where would I get fucking books on politics? It's all Techno. He's just weird." He answered in a conspiratorial whisper.

The Piglin huffed with intrigue at their every word, but made no comment.

Finally, Wilbur straightened up, gave a long groan, and clapped his hands.

"Maybe you're right-"

"Yeah, that much was clear." Techno interjected.

"- and our approach was not particularly moral or honest." The general admitted with displeasure.

Technoblade just shook his head resignedly and waved his hand towards the exit.

"You have a campaign to plan."

"Aren't you going to help us?" Tommy asked in surprise. The Piglin looked at him as if he was proposing to race the enraged Endermen again, to see if a human could outrun their teleportation.

"Don't involve me in anything that has to do with the government."

"Theoretically, Tommy and I represent the government at this point, thus we are the government."

"Wilbur, if you don't shut up, I'm going to speed up your balding process and rip all your hair out."

Wilbur saluted and left, glancing at Tommy as if he was rushing him. The blond sighed and looked up, looking Techno straight in the eye. The Piglin put his huge muzzle to his forehead and grunted reassuringly.

"I'll always be here for you, Tommy." He assured him. Tommy closed his eyes and raised his hand up, waiting for Technoblade to put his hand on it.

Despite the differences - three fingers that weren't covered in skin, but a hooflike material, with fur growing on his hand - Techno's hand, as always, seemed in place next to Tommy's. With each passing day, the teenager saw it as almost human - their gesture, which had a symbolic meaning; the promise of support and belonging to each other; made Tommy imagine that Techno would be the person who would grab him when he fell, making sure he was okay.

Perhaps Techno saw it similarly, and looking at how human Tommy was, he began to see that humanity in himself as well.

The Piglin finally separated their hands and nodded toward the exit.

"If you need me..." He began in a low voice. The teenager nodded in silent understanding.

He then followed his brother, looking back until he lost sight of Techno.

Philza had been traveling for as long as he could remember, and there was something liberating about it, something no other feeling could fill.

When he was younger, chained and forced to fight in the name of ideals he did not share, he dreamed of the sky and a world other than the dead expanses of the Arctic. The desert of ice, as fellow soldiers used to affectionately call this realm – people who were forced to fight just like him; either caught on campaigns or born into slavery - was a place that really tested one's character.

They compared Philza to a caged canary—born in captivity, looking up at the sky and longing for something he never had—and they treated him as such before he had a name or freedom that was addictive and seemed like energy, smoldering under his fingertips.

Sometimes his memories seemed to blur. When he tried to talk about it, people called it trauma and reasoned that the human part of his brain was trying to protect itself from cruelty by forgetting about it.

Phil didn't forget the feeling of the chains on his wrists, the burns from too tighty tied rope. It was the moments when he was happy that were something difficult to explain and quote.

It was obvious to him why there were huge black wings on his back, perfect for escaping during the night, perfect for hiding in the dark.

It was harder for him to remember his first flight, except for the memorable feeling of adrenaline and the moment he realized it was real - a taste of freedom that was addictive, more than the thought of the world that awaited him, more than the feeling of pure joy when he soared into the air.

Magic was something amazing, and Philza could only feel eternal gratitude that he came from a family whose ancestors were involved in it.

Hybrids came with time, although it was a period almost completely forgotten; the before.

People who dabbled in magic before it was tamed, when it was as wild as the monsters roaming in the dark, absorbed it. It circulated in their blood, becoming part of them, until eventually their descendants were born with it. The body influenced it and finally adapted it to itself - the descendants of magicians and witches gained the ability to obtain animal features that were to enable them to survive or deepen their familiar bonds.

Philza's manifestation came in a moment of sheer desperation, as he looked up at the night sky and the immobile bodies of his comrades surrounding him, and whispered a prayer to someone who would listen, begging for his life.

For a life that was more than a constant fight for land in the name of a tyrant he had never met.

Lady Death was kind to him. As she bowed over him with a worried smile, he fought her like a wild animal, thinking only of everything that might have missed him, if he let her take him.

His memories were hazy - whether his vision of fighting the embodiment of the power of Nature that ran the world was real or not - but there had to be something in it that was trying to guide him towards his future fate, maybe warn him about it.

He traveled and made a lot of mistakes in the process - going places he should have avoided, trusting people who waited for him to turn around, to stab him in the back.

He carelessly cursed himself with immortality, which was as unfortunate as it was handy, given his lifestyle.

A few hazy memories later - perhaps hundreds of years in reality; sometimes, with a smile, he mentally agreed with his sons that he was getting old - he found confirmation that Lady Death had indeed spared his life, fascinated by his will to fight, his desire not so much to leave something behind, but to see as much as he could.

And before he knew it, he had two sons and his beloved was impossible to find. The gods often lost contact with the material world, became distant, and their reunion was a pious wish impossible to fulfill.

And then his immortality - a curse he no longer saw as such - began to terrify him.

The idea of staying in one place was terrible. He needed to travel, he needed to visit places forgotten by people, before the feeling of a rope around his wrists returned and became unbearable.

Perhaps in time he himself became more of a deity than man.

It was a hard thing to grieve for those who were still alive.

So when, after years of absence, which he desperately wanted to justify in every possible way just to get rid of the guilt that was gnawing at him more and more, he found an empty house, with shattered windows and cobwebs stretching all over the rooms, despite the maps, despite the knowledge that he had lived longer than any other man, he felt like the chained child again.

Only this time, he made those chains himself.

As a general, Wilbur was not one to limit the freedom of others - on the contrary, it went against the values with which L'manburg had been founded - however, at the sight of Quackity, who was grinning from ear to ear, followed by the sleepy and obviously irritated George, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere else - especially in his bed - he felt the urge to build a prison with his own hands and throw the duck hybrid in it.

"You're members of Dream's kingdom. You cannot take part in elections, especially as candidates. You come from a place that is hostile to us."

Quackity's wings puffed out, but a wide grin remained on his face. Their conversation was a card game, and the brunette had an ace up his sleeve.

"But we are not official members of Dream's nation, nor are we allied with it." He ignored the significant look Wilbur directed at George. “We only inhabit his land, in the absence of alternatives. Which you yourself have deprived us of."

"George was literally an enemy soldier."

"I was hired." He spoke reluctantly, as if he hadn't been Dream's friend for years. Wilbur was beginning to wonder if the whole world had decided to play a particularly cruel joke on him.

“You said in the pamphlet that one needs a co-candidate, who would act as the future vice, to be able to take part in the election. Here he is, he's perfect!" The brunette announced enthusiastically, watching with satisfaction as Wilbur's face made several different jumps between emotions, opting for irritation mixed with fatigue.

Before the general could protest, George took several sets of papers from his bag and spread them out on the desk.

Quackity had hoped for more fanfare, but his companion had done his job and was meticulous enough. So, he crossed his arms over his chest, and let him take over.

“These are documents with the census of Essempe's citizens. You can browse through them, but neither me nor Quackity are on them. These" He pointed to another set. "are papers certifying that neither of us have citizenship in Essempe, and these are your laws, which do not prevent nomads from voting."

"Nomads."

"Of course. We are born nomads." Quackity confirmed with a smile.

Wilbur pressed his lips into a thin line. He nodded slowly, reluctantly, as if forcing himself to—which he probably was.

They came prepared, submitting their candidacy before Wilbur could prepare himself for such an eventuality. George, while he'd rather sleep for twenty hours than engage in anything productive, was a terrifyingly competent person and, as one of Dream's closest men, knew more about the workings of politics than the young general who founded the state to defy the potion production limits.

"So, I'd advise you to quickly learn how to spell my name and put me on the shortlist." Yellow wings were spread, puffed with pride. A treacherous voice ran through Wilbur's mind, whispering venomously that perhaps he was cursed to always have an avian against him.

Quackity's wings seemed like a taunt; in Wilbur's eyes, they were only a nasty reminder that no matter what he tried, he wouldn't be good enough, and everything he had earned and cared about could be taken away from him and pushed into the shadow of a winged silhouette.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and pushing down the rising anger that consumed his patience like flames a piece of paper.

Quackity did not collect the documents. He just tapped George on the shoulder, then high-fived him and nodded towards the door.

"You make your own enemies, Soot!" He called mockingly goodbye.

Wilbur buried his head in his hands, longing for hot tea, or better yet, mulled wine. For a moment he thought about going to the Nether to ask Techno for advice - the Piglin helped him vent his emotions, showing surprising understanding - but he quickly remembered the bruises that adorned his body after Tommy's friend's sudden outburst.

Sometimes Wilbur was close to forgetting that he was dealing with a beast with animal instincts, not an equal man who could control his anger.

The only consolation was that the Piglin definitely saw Tommy as a piglet, eliminating the risk that he would turn against him.

He looked out the window, watching the darkening sky. The moment a shrill scream pierced the silence, he shuddered, burying his head between his arms and squeezing his eyes shut. He covered his ears with his hands, trying to escape the sound of insistent banging on his office window.

When he opened one eye, he met the Phantom's green eyes, shining in an unnatural way. The creature hit the window with something akin to bitterness, taking to the air and diving.

Wilbur closed his eyes and curled up in his chair, trusting that the layer of glass was enough to protect him from the monster.

He spent the next few days almost mechanically, relying on his newly created routine. He used to hang out with Tommy, who would drag him to Niki's bakery and make him eat breakfast, which, if not for his intervention, would probably be the only meal he would force himself to eat. Then, they worked together on their campaign plans, designing posters and writing speeches – recruiting Tubbo to save some time.

Finally, after almost a week, Niki dragged him into her bakery, insisting that he needed a break from the relentless stress of politics.

He grimaced at the Quackity's party's campaign posters, staring at Quackity's smiling face with pure dislike.

The mass of red and navy blue colors were contrasting, but also complementing each other in a strange way, and the use of gold to make things stand out - like the sunglasses both of the drawn candidates were wearing (it was weird to see George without his usual goggles) - seemed to drag along behind him, an unwelcome reminder that his win, while still a certainty, was no longer so obvious.

Niki helped tie an apron over his uniform, wearing a similar one herself - with the words "I eat people" written in white paint. Her apron was mint in color and complimented her blonde hair perfectly. A gift from Tubbo (and Tommy, who taught him), who was trying to learn how to sew something a little more complicated than a towel or blanket. The one that belonged to Wilbur was made of some yellow material, eerily reminiscent of his favorite sweater, one he hadn't seen since the revolution, when all non-uniform clothes had been packed into a chest and forgotten.

It was easy for him to concentrate on peeling the dough off his fingers. Niki rolled her eyes and sprinkled flour on his hands, then began rubbing her hands vigorously, showing him what he should do. The brunet rolled his eyes, but without a word began to imitate her gesture and got rid of the remnants of raw dough.

They formed it into cupcakes in metal molds and happily put them in the oven.

Unfortunately, life has decided to make Wilbur its private piñata. Perhaps that was why he wasn't surprised when Niki looked at him with something that bordered too much on guilt.

As if she was apologizing to him for her words before she even said them.

"So, about the campaign." She started hesitantly, and the general sighed, getting ready to explain his plan, program, or composition of government to her.

Niki looked at her fingernails, examining them carefully. Her gray sweater was stained with flour.

"Fundy decided to run and I agreed to be his vice."

"What?"

Wilbur looked at her in genuine surprise. An unpleasant feeling, shame mixed with anger and disbelief, began to climb up his throat like ivy on stone walls.

Something in the back of his mind - a voice he was ready to forget, which grew stronger every day, throwing away all his achievements in improvement as if they were insignificant garbage - began to fuel his nervousness with treacherous, venomous thoughts.

Of course Fundy, his own son, the person he had taken in and raised, didn't think he was competent enough to trust him to rule the country he had created in the first place.

His own family resented him, seeing him as a failure whose touch destroyed everything he had made.

He straightened up, his shoulders strangely taut. He pursed his lips into a thin line as he considered his next words.

"I understand."

"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, Wil. You're one of my dearest friends, and Fundy isn't doing this to hurt you."

"Of course."

"He's young, and he wants to prove to you that he's competent. Don't question his abilities. Anyway, who knows, maybe he has something of your flair for politics and charisma in himself."

"Undoubtedly." Wilbur looked at the dough rising in the heat. He could feel his friend's eyes on him.

Pity, an unwelcome thought suggested.

"Forgive me, Niki, but I've spent too long avoiding my responsibilities. Duty calls, especially with increasing competition.” He tried to keep the bitterness from seeping into his words. He bowed to her and left the bakery, heading for the gate leading to L'manburg.

Tommy was standing beside it, talking to Sam. He gesticulated eagerly, explaining something to the man, who laughed as the teenager ended his story with a perky smile, and put his hand on his hair, ruffling it in a fatherly way. There was something about his gestures and smiles, and the concentration and focus with which he listened to Tommy's jokes and stories, that sent an unpleasant shiver through Wilbur.

"Tommy!" He called out, watching with satisfaction as the blonde quickly bid farewell to the creeper hybrid and ran towards him, waving his arms vigorously.

"I thought you were spending the day relaxing?" He asked in surprise. Wilbur shook his head.

“Niki and Fundy are competing against us as a duet. Soon we are to have meetings with voters and present our programs and parties. We don't have time to play and avoid responsibilities."

Tommy shrunk a bit at his words but didn't deny it, much to the older man's delight.

"Do you have something useful for me?"

"Well. Depends."

The teenager tilted his head to the side and crossed his arms behind his back, straightening up. The gesture was too calculated to be casual body language, but perfect to be part of the Piglin tongue Wilbur felt a pang of uneasiness at how easy it was for his brother to supplement his thoughts with other language.

“We may be brothers, Tommy, but I'm also your superior. I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop acting like a child and gave me an answer."

“Wow, you must have gotten some big sticks up your ass from all this politics. All I know is that Quackity invited his good friend to visit him."

"And that's great news!" He clapped excitedly and patted Tommy's head, ignoring his displeasure. "We can get him to support our case."

The blonde furrowed his brow and pursed his lips.

"What does he have to do with it?"

"Ah, he's a new person, and this land is a bit cut off from the world. It will cause a bit of confusion, but it will also attract a lot of attention. He can publicly support us. We'll take advantage of this and humiliate Quacky! The person he invited himself will appear as a supporter of a party hostile to him! That's genius!"

Tommy smiled briskly, nodding.

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan." He said with certainty in his voice.

Wilbur felt proud to finally regain control of his game. A new pawn is in his hand, turned into a queen. Checkmate. His strategy required minor adjustments, but he finally felt he had real control over it.

He patted Tommy's back and started walking towards their house, puffing out his chest and feeling an almost overwhelming relief.

“I think we just got rid of most of our worries. We just have to play properly, and we won't have to worry about anything."

Unfortunately, Schlatt was a wild card, so Wilbur's plan wasn't good at all.

The general tried to treat the newcomer with respect, urging Tommy to try to impress him and make sure he didn't have time to talk to Quackity.

The teenager did his job well, wearing a suit to ingratiate himself with the businessman Schlatt turned out to be, and insisting on his love of capitalism, while distracting the man from meeting the avian, who Wilbur could see growing impatient in the distance.

All it took was one mistake, one ill-considered conversation, and Schlatt gripped the microphone with more force than was necessary, pushing Wilbur away from him as he stared from the podium at the entire audience.

He leaned against the rostrum, one hand still clenched on the microphone handle, and smiled slyly. His smirk was sharp and proud, filled with a confidence none of the participants had.

Fundy tucked his tail between his legs and glanced nervously at Niki. His eyes flicked to Wilbur every now and then, who was busy keeping Tommy from throwing himself at Schlatt - their miraculous ace up their sleeve that was supposed to pave them a way to victory - and knocking him out in front of all the voters.

Pride.

The heaviest of vices, a stone tied to the feet of a drowning man, who could easily get rid of it, but chose the opposite, because he was used to its weight.

Wilbur knew he should have played better, made empty promises, and not allowed Schlatt to see his cards, but it was too late for that.

The horns of the ram hybrid glistened in the red light of the setting sun, giving the scene an almost apocalyptic feeling. He looked sinister yet confident, and with his charisma became another of Wilbur's obstacles.

"I'm going to run for president myself! Better than some pathetic singer loverboys!" He announced, grinning at the curiosity of the crowd. Intrigue was a great tool, and attracting attention could be effective if it was in the hands that knew how to use it.

"Tommy, calm down. You're not making things better." Wilbur growled in a whisper into the ear of his brother, who screamed and cursed at their traitor. He wondered if Eret was watching them from a distance, smiling at the thought that Wilbur was apparently doomed to let his plans backfire on him, betrayed once again..

The teen looked at him indignantly, and his mouth dropped open, filled with protests and insults ready to escape.

Wilbur pursed his lips in a thin line and subtly bobbed his head at the crowd. Some people looked at the scene with fascination, some with amusement, some with judging seriousness. Some eyes were focused on the new candidate, but some were also on Tommy, who was held back only by the strength of Wilbur's arms.

The general bitterly thought that his right hand man acted more like a child than an equal candidate.

"Behave." He hissed through clenched teeth, tightening his fingers on Tommy's shoulder and digging his nails into his skin until he stopped moving and closed his mouth.

Schlatt looked back at them with a wild grin.

The pieces were scattered and the game started again.

Chapter Text

The wind carried the Indian summer, tangling the gossamer around the trees and grass. Some of the birds have started to take off, marking the beginning of autumn.

The nights were also getting colder, leaving the air cold, stinging in the cheeks, and the morning dew, with a barely perceptible mist hovering over it.

Tommy narrowed his eyes and leaned against a tree branch, breathing heavily. Screams mixed with ovations could be heard in the distance. He bent down, bending his knees but not crouching - Technoblade had showed him how to hunt effectively, how to hide from the eyes of his prey and maintain full readiness to run. Although Tommy was now the one targeted by the dangerous predators, the Piglin's advice was still useful.

He closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. He put his left leg forward so that he could immediately shift his weight onto it and start running.

Election day began with a palpable sense of unease and dread in the air.

Schlatt was a good player, and an underrated one at that. Wilbur immediately assumed that no one would want to follow the eccentric businessman, especially one with big ego.

As the founder of L'manburg, he insisted that the men he led into battle would remain loyal to him.

And yet nothing stopped the whispers about the young age of Tommy, Tubbo and Fundy. People around were circling like vultures over a lion dying of exhaustion, which didn't have enough strength to successfully repel their attacks.

As Wilbur walked the streets with Tommy, they both saw people leaning towards each other, questioning their authority, talking about child soldiers, as if it suddenly mattered.

"The general wants power" rang through the air like the ringing after an explosion. "He didn't win our freedom."

"His most faithful soldiers are children" had Tommy ducking his head, walking faster, as if he could escape the rumors being spread.

Both Schlatt and Quackity were masters of the game. Their moves were calculated and percise.

"So, you want to use me?" Quackity's wings bristled. Their opponent stared in disbelief at Wilbur, whose face took on an unreadable expression. "I'm not an ornament. I'm not going to sit around politely and do your bidding, or wave at people from the window with a cute smile, trapped as another of your toy soldiers."

"Quackity, that's a good proposition." The general interjected, still showing no emotion. Tommy swallowed hard, feeling like he was choking on it. The Avian didn't look in his direction, as if the friendship they shared had become one of the bridges he was ready to burn and leave behind.

"I'm beginning to see why you called yourself soot. Because after some time, that's all that's left of everything you create." He hissed between clenched teeth.

Wilbur grabbed Tommy's arm, forcing him to follow.

Maybe Schlatt wasn't a good player after all. Maybe Wilbur was just willing to make more sacrifices than necessary, making it harder for himself to win.

His older brother hadn't spoken to Fundy in a week. He also avoided Niki's bakery, muttering evasively that he had eaten too much of her pastries.

"Tommy." Fundy nodded, his ears twitching uncertainly. His tail fell between his legs. Tommy saluted and looked curiously at the pile of posters he was carrying.

On the paper were the portraits of Niki and Fundy, both smiling amiably as they held a flag together. They didn't look down at the poster's viewer, they didn't look, as Wilbur put it, authoritatively.

The entire fabric of their campaign seemed friendly and relaxed, as if they didn't care about the stress of preparing speeches and attracting as many people as possible.

"They look great." He said proudly, taking one of the posters and admiring every detail of it. Even the colors used were not strong. The Pog2020 posters were in the colors of the L'manburg flag, and only showed Wilbur, standing at attention and staring solemnly ahead. Schlatt's party posters, like those of Quacky's party, were dominated by red and gold.

Nika and Fundy's posters were pastel, and the drawings were devoid of sharp and expressive edges.

Fundy's ears pricked up. He cleared his throat and began to balance on one leg, jumping after a moment to the other, squirming in place.

"Oh. Thanks."

"It doesn't change the fact that we will fucking destroy you, so that nothing remains." Tommy said with a confident smile. His nephew snorted a laugh, relaxing. His tail began to twitch happily.

“Competing with you is almost an honor. Maybe if you weren't so annoying..."

“I will tell you that women find that entertaining. It's part of my charm. They look at me and think: ah yes, Tommy, innit? He's so cool and awesome."

They passed over the fact that Wilbur refused to even look at his son, and if he came to see him, he brushed him off, dryly reminding him that he had many responsibilities, with silence and jokes.

When Schlatt took the podium after the results were announced, with Quackity on his right, Tommy looked at him with a sense of finality. He looked for Fundy, but the fox hybrid turned away when he caught his gaze.

Niki covered her mouth with her hand, and Tubbo looked uncertainly at his best friend. His hands were shaking.

Tommy looked up as he felt Wilbur's hand on his shoulder, digging painfully into his skin. His lips were pressed into a tight line and his jaw was tense.

The teen couldn't remember when he started running. The screams around him and Wilbur's voice, full of urgency, were muffled by the feeling of overpowering panic. Like a drowning man, he lunged desperately forward, pushing away anything in his path that might drag him down.

He listened, waiting for one of Schlatt's men to jump out of the trees. His weight was still on his retracted right leg. He could continue his run at any time, but first he had to find out how big the threat was.

Through the trees, pursued by screams, Wilbur ran, leaning against one of them and gasping for breath. His chest was heaving violently and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. His coat was torn, and there were red lines of scratches on his arms.

He looked around, placing a hand on his chest and panting as he spotted Tommy. The teen pursed his lips into a thin line and nodded. Wilbur repeated the gesture, then closed his eyes and rested his head against the branch of the tree.

Not far from them, the sound of water lapping against stones could be heard. The river that surrounded L'manburg was visible through the trees. On the other side of it - probably the only place that was safe.

The whistle of an arrow and a loud scream caught Tommy's attention. Wilbur clutched his arm, his face contorted in pain.

The blonde ran up to him and forced him to run, letting him put all his weight on him.

He glanced back, keeping eye contact for a few seconds with Punz, who was boredly studying another arrow, twirling it between his fingers.

"Fuck." He cursed, ignoring the fact that he had to pull his brother more and more with each step. He stopped in front of the river, staring uneasily into its slow current.

He closed his eyes, grabbed Wilbur, pinning him to his chest with one hand, and threw himself into the water, fighting to keep them both afloat.

By the time they reached the other shore, Tommy was snorting and coughing as he tried to clear the icy water from his throat and sinuses. Wilbur sank to the sand, his fingers tightening around the arrow protruding from his shoulder.

"We have to move, we can't stay here." Tommy gasped as he looked across the river.

Punz was standing on the muddy sand looking their way, aiming his bow straight at the teenager's head. Suddenly he turned his head towards the forest, where something green flashed between the trees.

The man looked at the exiled brothers one last time, sheathed the arrow in his quiver and turned on his heel, disappearing into the forest thicket.

Tommy breathed a sigh of relief and forced himself to get up off his knees. His legs were shaking and his knees buckled under the weight of the rest of his body. He extended his hand toward Wilbur, who was panting heavily and staring unseeingly at the horizon.

His fingers tightened on the arrow. Tommy grabbed his hand, pulling it away from the wound, and lifted it.

Wilbur would have fallen had the teenager not held him, pinning him to his side, holding his arm over his shoulder with one hand and his waist with the other.

Their coats were heavy and wet. They left tracks behind them, dripping with water and shivering in the cold. Finally, Tommy reached a knoll at the foot of which lay a heap of stones, covering the partly buried entrance to the cave.

"Can I be of assistance to you, gentlemen?"

He spun around, facing Eret and standing between her and Wilbur, whom he propped against one of the boulders. His hand rested on the sword.

"Eret?" He asked, even though he knew he wouldn't mistake his voice for any other. The king stepped forward, hands up in submission. A golden crown adorned their curls, and a red cape with white fur hung over his shoulders.

The blond felt a surge of anger.

"You look good." He made a biting comment, though his words sounded hollow, without the venom one might've expected.

The traitor looked from side to side, shaking his head and fidgeting with her hands.

"I have come to offer you help, gentlemen."

Tommy's chest heaved in a flash of sudden hope that pierced his ribs and heart. He opened his mouth, ready to answer-

"Once a traitor, always a traitor." Wilbur's dry voice interrupted them. "We don't need your pity. We're not going to be at the mercy of someone who sells out their comrades so easily."

His eyes were red, and his breathing was rapid and wheezing. His hand was trembling and his temple glistened with sweat.

"I know it's hard for you to trust me, especially after what I've done, but I swear I don't want to do you any harm. In the name of our old friendship, let me help you."

"You've already proven that what we had had no value to you, so it wasn't friendship." Wilbur sneered, frowning. "I don't know what you're up to, but if you're looking for redemption because your conscience has finally decided to torment you at night, you won't find it here."

Tommy looked at his brother and clenched his fists.

"You heard, Eret. We can't trust you." He said avoiding the king's gaze.

The traitor took off his cape and placed it over Tommy's shoulders, looking at him silently.

"If you change your mind, my door will be open. I swear to give you safety and asylum if you choose so."

She left, leaving them alone. Tommy covered Wilbur with her cape while he took off his jacket, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and began to dig, parting stones and earth, revealing the entrance to a cave with a narrow tunnel going down.

He took a flint from his pocket, found a larger branch, lit it, threw it inside, and waited a while. When there was no explosion, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Wilbur was huddling on the moss, which was slowly being soaked with his blood. Tommy made a fire, gathered the moss and grass into a sort of bedding in the cave, and moved Wilbur inside.

"Fucking traitors." The general whispered, his fingers tightening on Tommy's forearms. "You're the only one I have left. Tommy, you have to promise me you won't leave me."

"You know I would never do that, you moron." He handed Wilbur his bandana. "Get your teeth on this. We have to take the arrow out."

The man put the material in his mouth. His eyes widened as Tommy ripped open his clothes and pressed his fingers against the skin around the arrow. Finally, he grabbed it's wooden shaft, tearing it from his body in one confident move.

Wilbur began to writhe under his hands. His screams were muffled by the bandana, eyes wide, cheeks wet with tears streaming down them. His whole body trembled and his fingers curled and clenched.

Tommy pressed the wound with one hand and reached for the branch with the other. He wrapped the tip of it in the lining of his coat and lit it, bringing it close to his brother's skin.

"We have no thread." He informed Wilbur, who shook his head. When the bleeding wound disappeared under melted together skin, he began to bandage.

Wilbur didn't lose consciousness, but he didn't have the strength to fight back. Besides trembling, he just looked at Tommy with resignation and tears in his eyes.

The teenager covered him with the cape, then stood up, looking towards the exit.

"Tommy." His brother's voice was quiet and hesitant.

"I'll bring water and food." He simply said, taking a hip flask out of his pants pocket - Schlatt had given it to him as a joke before he announced his candidacy, and some part of Tommy, one that sounded suspiciously similar to Techno, told him to keep it, citing a list of the usefulness of having something other than a bucket to carry water on long journeys in.

He walked upstream, and was relieved to find one of the streams flowing into it. He filled his flask with water, then began digging around the spring, smiling with satisfaction at the variety of roots - Technoblade forced him to learn about survival, so Tommy knew where to look for food if he couldn't hunt.

"Tommy?"

He jumped back, spinning in one neat motion, his muscles tensing. His legs buckled as if to jump, and his hands clenched into fists and moved forward to protect his chest and face.

Tubbo was standing across the stream, clutching a dagger.

"Tubbo! I knew you wouldn't leave us!" The teen smiled with obvious relief. His gaze softened and his posture relaxed. He lowered his hands and gathered up the fallen roots, giving his friend a grateful smile.

The brunet didn't look at him - what's more, he seemed to avoid his gaze, lowering his head and looking at the water hitting the stones.

"Tommy, I have to ask you to come with me."

"Tubbo?"

The blond stepped back, eyes wide. He stared at his friend in disbelief. He put his hand on his chest and unconsciously imitated the sound that Techno usually made when Tommy went too far or took on a particularly dangerous challenge.

"I got a promotion."

The teen furrowed his brow and twisted his face in displeasure. Scowling, he glanced at the dagger Tubbo was gripping so hard that his knuckles turned white.

"You have to be joking." He asked slowly, starting to back away.

Tubbo looked at him. Tears glistened in his eyes and his lips twitched uncontrollably. He lowered the dagger and took a step back, keeping his eyes on Tommy.

The blond exhaled loudly, in a way that sounded similar to a growl.

"I'll see you later." He promised, turning and marching towards the hideout. He didn't look back. Tubbo didn't follow him.

The entrance to the cave was well hidden, and the forest thicket made the fire inside the cave invisible. Tommy crawled inside, leaning against the wall and sliding down it to the floor.

He huddled next to Wilbur, who must have passed out while he was talking to Tubbo. Despite the proximity of the fire, he was incredibly cold.

He sighed and tilted his head back, positioning himself to cover himself with part of the cape.

He didn't cry.

He spent the next week keeping an eye on Wilbur, fetching food—mostly plants, harvested from the forest, though he managed to catch one rabbit—and chase off a pack of foxes, picking up half-eaten fowl—and making regular outings for clean water.

Eventually Wilbur got to his feet, but the wound from the shot had not healed properly, and it was evident in every move he made - he preferred his good arm, and a bunch of curses escaped his lips everytime he tried to stretch, or lift something too heavy.

"I've built a country once, I'll do it again." He promised Tommy, looking at him with a confidence that was fading more and more wit each passing day.

On one evening, Tommy covered the entrance to the cave, carrying a dead winged creature. He ripped out its membrane with a blunt knife, and busied himself with slowly dissecting its flesh for other useful parts.

Wilbur looked at him uncertainly. The circles under his eyes were starting to turn purple.

"I didn't think it was that bad." He admitted reluctantly as he watched Tommy gut the monster.

"It's mine." The teenager said, avoiding his gaze. At first, when he heard the screams following him, he felt fear, but it quickly turned to irritation, and then soon to anger. As the Phantom dived in, trying to bite him, Tommy grabbed it by the wings, pinned it to the ground with his leg, then tore its limbs apart with a loud snap.

As the creature screamed in pain, writhing under his boot, Tommy pushed harder until he heard the unpleasant crack of bones breaking. Soon after, the monster's neon eyes widened, then dimmed.

The stress was getting to both of them - Wilbur expected constant reassurances that he was a good person, and that Tommy wasn't about to abandon him, and Tommy was completely focused on his devotion to his brother, making his happiness his first priority.

At first, he believed his words - they would build a new state, Pogtopia, and they would do it from scratch, the two of them, just like before. Even with the whole world against them two, they were together, back to back.

Philza trusted Tommy to be by Wilbur's side, no matter what. He trusted him to be an adult, to take care of his brother.

Big men don't cry, the teen repeated stubbornly to himself, gently pulling Wilbur's hands from his hair as he began to pull it out during a panic attack.

However, as time passed, their situation worsened.

Finally one day, when he returned from his search in the forest for any food, he found Wilbur among the trees. His brother covered himself with a coat, trying to protect himself from the cold. Eret's cape was used as a bed for them, so it stayed inside the cave.

"Tommy, are we the bad guys?"

"Well, I'm always right, so we're on the right side." He answered with certainty. Wilbur stared blankly ahead.

"I want to see L'manburg." He said finally, walking towards their country. Tommy followed faithfully, trying to keep up with him.

They stood on the hill, looking at their home with longing in their hearts.

Tommy stared at the tree-lined walls with a strange uneasiness.

He was suddenly horrified as he saw flames begin to spread across the flag he had sewed with Niki.

Wilbur paid no attention to his screams of indignation and curses. Instead, he stared in disbelief at the walls around which people had gathered.

The breaks they created clearly betrayed what their intentions were. A certain redhead was leading them, taking the first swing at the blackstone.

"My son! My son is destroying the walls that were supposed to keep him safe!" Wilbur shouted, despair in his voice. His knees buckled, and he fell to the grass with a hysterical scream. He hid his face in his hands and began to sob; his shoulders were shaking, up and down, and his fingers, soiled with earth and soot, left dark marks on his tear-stained cheeks.

Tommy sat down beside him, looking at L'manburg with a heavy heart.

"We'll get it back." He assured, though his words sounded hollow.

As they sang the national anthem together for the last time, it sounded like a farewell.

The forest was quiet, and strangely peaceful. The standard companions of the night were nowhere to be seen. Both skeletons and zombies seemed to be absent, as if in fear of something more dangerous.

Tommy's face was lit by the flames rising above L'manburg. The flag turned into a torch; into a beacon that showed the way home, but in doing so it was misleading, showing the direction of the empty promise of safety, which would turn out to be the rocks. The promise of security, the vision of home, became a mirage leading to perdition.

Wilbur walked ahead of Tommy, in the shade of the trees, out of the firelight. He finally stopped, near Pogtopia, and hugged himself. His arm dropped down and trembled. The dressings sticking out from under the coat and shirt were dirty with dust.

"Tommy, what if they're right?"

"What?"

Wilbur smiled, rocking back on his heels.

"No one will help us! We're completely alone now!” He grabbed Tommy by the shoulders, digging his nails, jagged from biting, into his skin. "They see us as the villains, Tommy. They want villains? So let's give them ones."

"Wilbur, you're acting like an asshole." The teen interjected weakly, shivering under his grip.

"Let's be the bad guys, Tommy." The general said, smiling enthusiastically. "L'manburg is gone! They banished us! Our home is far behind us!”

"Wil, there's always hope. L'manburg, our L'manburg, is still there. What's left for you if you lose all hope?"

Wilbur shook his head, frowning.

"See, Tommy? That's why I give the orders and you obey."

"We can kill Schlatt." He suggested, looking at Wilbur in search for his brother. The general's smile was cold and calculated.

"Killing Schlatt won't change anything." Wilbur squeezed his arm tighter and looked him straight in the eye. "Tommy, let's be the bad guys."

Chapter Text

While Pogtopia was far from being home, it was starting to look a little bit homelier as the time went by.

Wilbur paced in the tunnels of the abandoned mine, mumbling to himself. His brother obediently followed his trail, illuminating the corridors with torches and lamps found in abandoned chests.

"Wilbur, we need to think this through." He said once again. Slowly he was beginning to lose count of how many times he had tried to reason with his brother. The brunette stopped, causing the teen to bump into him.

"Tommy, do you trust me?" He asked quietly.

Despite the torchlight, Pogtopia was uncomfortably dark. Tommy swallowed hard, staring absently at the walls. Long cobwebs hung from the ceiling.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot, not taking his eyes off his brother's back.

"Is that even a question?" He mumbled reluctantly.

The silence that filled the canyon seemed to penetrate every corner of his being. The general's shoulders remained tense.

"I trust you." He said finally, watching with relief that Wilbur had returned to his little march. Then, he stopped again, this time in the spot they had made into the main part of their hideout. In the center they made a place for a fire, next to which there was a supply of branches and planks; the latter came from rotten bed frames they had found in a corner of one of the tunnels.

The mattresses, moth-eaten and covered with a thick layer of dust, were dragged near the fire. Though their new bedroom wasn't the most comfortable, and Tommy yearned more and more with each passing day for the naps he could take during his visits to Techno, neither of them uttered a single word lest they break the dam that held their hysteria together.

Tommy couldn't remember the last time he was clean. His clothes and skin were covered with soot and dust, and his fingers were almost black with coal and mud.

Wilbur slept less than ever before, and when he thought Tommy couldn't see him, he huddled as close to the fire as possible, as if he couldn't feel the heat radiating from it anymore.

They sat on the mattresses, coughing as a cloud of smoke rose into the air. The flames of the torches swayed with the sudden movement

"Tommy, of all people, I'm glad to be here with you."

"Of course. My presence is a fucking gift that everyone desires."

"Everyone?" Wilbur asked, raising an eyebrow and smiling slightly. "I thought you were going to tell me about all the ladies who want to hang out with you?"

"Well, you're acting like a girl, so basically-" He shouted indignantly as Wilbur threw his overcoat, rolled up into a ball – an improvised pillow - at him.

"Stop being sexist."

"I'M NOT BEING SEXIST!" The teenager screamed, throwing himself at his brother and knocking him easily to the mattress. They began to wrestle, pushing and rolling on the bed.

Finally, Tommy pinned Wilbur down with his body, spreading out over him and ignoring his groans and whining.

"Get off me!"

"Oh Tommy, you are the best brother I could ever have, I am so grateful for your presence, you make me so happy, you are the sun in my life."

"Gremlin!"

"Rat!"

"Raccoon!"

"Raccoon?" Tommy lost his concentration, which Wilbur took advantage of, knocking him off the bed. He smirked and tapped his nose.

"Your whole face is covered in soot. Are you rubbing your eyes with this dirt?" He asked with amusement. Tommy touched his cheeks, frowning. He looked down at his hands, still covered in dirt, at the handprints left on Wilbur's mattress and coat where he had touched him.

He smiled ominously.

"Oh, Wilbur, my favorite big brother..." He began in a melodious voice as he approached the general. The man began to scream, kicking and crawling backwards.

"Let's talk about it, let's talk about it!"

Tommy jumped on him, his hands covered with soot, with an evil laugh. When Wilbur was adorned with his own raccoon mask, the teen nodded in satisfaction and stepped back to admire his masterpiece in its entirety.

"You know, it doesn't really make any difference. The bags under your eyes look the same." He said with a playful smirk. Wilbur frowned and pursed his lips.

"I can't believe you treat an injured person like that." He said. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Finally, he began to giggle, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and spreading the dirt over his face even more.

"We're like brothers." Tommy announced.

"Don't say that, I will cry." Interjected Wilbur. He pulled a mirror out of his coat pocket, which resulted in Tommy screaming indignantly, "Have you had it all along? Of course, you're such a girl." and started looking at his face.

He sighed miserably, but his lips stretched into an involuntary smile.

"We're dirty crime bois now."

Tommy stuck his fist in the air and started cheering. He jumped on the mattresses, kicked Wilbur's coat off the bed, to which its owner loudly protested, and settled back, staring at the ceiling.

"Tommy?"

"Hmm?" He glanced at his brother but didn't look up. The mattress buckled under the extra weight.

"Thank you."

"At your service." He simply replied, closing his eyes.

Although their situation was bad, Tommy was able to get it under control.

He relaxed, listening to the silence. He missed the constant thumping of the Nether, the sounds of lava and the sizzle of fires. He tried to imagine himself in Techno's cave, but the ground in the Overworld didn't breathe.

Not for the first time, the thought of green grass and blue skies made him feel alone and out of place.

The next time he went outside, it was because of the dwindling food supply. The rain fell heavily, blurring the tracks and making it difficult to move. Soaked, with great irritation, he consoled himself with the thought that it was the best shower he had had in the last few weeks.

Amid the sound of the rain, it was hard to keep being on full alert. However, the sound of a branch, breaking underneath someone's foot, was impossible to miss. He turned, frowning when he saw no one there.

"You look a little pathetic. Homelessness doesn't treat you well, Tomathy."

He raised his head and middle fingers in the direction of a familiar, if very unwelcome, voice. Dream laughed, sitting down on the branch he was crouching on a moment ago. He hooked his legs over it, then let himself fall backwards.

He was hanging upside down, still above Tommy, but close enough for the teen to throw mud at his mask.

"Hey!" The man screamed in surprise, making a quick dodge. Tommy grimaced and turned around, searching the bushes and the ground for food.

"You're ignoring me? Come on, Tommy, I thought we were friends."

"I don't hang out with assholes."

"Come on, you make me sound like I'm some kind of a super villain!"

"Aren't you?" The blond grunted, bringing the collected berries closer to his face. Some of them were already starting to rot.

Dream was silent for a moment, watching him with obvious interest. He jumped, somersaulting in the air like a poseur, and landed neatly on the ground, positioned as if to bow. Tommy rolled his eyes, but he didn't have time to say anything, because he was interrupted by the sight of the object Dream held in his outstretched hand.

"What the hell do I need obsidian for?" he asked incredulously. The man adjusted his mask. Green eyes shone with satisfaction. He knew he caught his attention.

"I thought you'd like to be able to pay a visit to your friend."

"What?"

Tommy felt as if his blood froze in his veins. He looked up, staring uncertainly at the hybrid standing in front of him.

Dream grabbed his hand and pressed the black stone into it.

"Tommy, I'm not an idiot. I know everything that happens in these areas. Did you really think that your trips to the Nether and the reason for them were a big secret?"

"Why the fuck are you giving me obsidian?" The blonde asked, frowning. He brought his hand closer to his chest, not trusting Dream to not change his decision.

"Because we're friends, remember?" He said, carefree. He began to climb the tree, pausing on one of the branches. He saluted, imitating the way the L'manburg soldiers had done it before Wilbur. "We'll see each other again."

"Prick!" Tommy yelled after him, watching him disappear into the trees.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers tightening on the obsidian. He thought of Wilbur - even if he wanted to see Techno, his brother had to remain his priority. The man needed support, and a visit to the Piglin would only make him feel lonely.

He entered Pogtopia thoughtfully, almost bumping into Wilbur. The brunet sat by the stairs, staring blankly at the wall.

"Have you started seeing ghosts or is this stone just so interesting?" Tommy asked jokingly, stuffing the obsidian into his pocket, hiding it from view, and shoving his guilt even deeper.

"I thought you left me." Wilbur whispered. His hands were shaking. He placed them on his lap, trying to control them, but to no avail.

"Wilbur, we've already talked about this. You're acting like a fool, I would never leave you."

"You can't be sure! Look at them, it only took one sentence from Schlatt for Fundy to betray me! Tubbo left you without a second thought! We are completely alone! Everyone hates me even though I won their freedom! L'manburg stands because of me!" He lifted his hands and started tugging at his hair. Tommy sat down next to him, biting his lip. "You're not going to be president, Tommy! We have no home to return to! Fundy had already planned to betray me. He hated me for a long time, so he ran against me. Because he thought I wasn't competent enough to lead."

"Wilbur, you're a moron." Tommy stated, nudging him gently. “Fundy wanted you to be proud of him. He ran his own campaign because he thought you thought he was incompetent."

He stood up and held out his hand to his brother, smiling supportively, pushing fatigue aside.

"Come on, we need to build a fire, unless you want me to die of fucking pneumonia or something." Wilbur stood up, breathing heavily, but allowed himself to be led to the woodpile.

Tommy sorted the boards slowly, looking for the ones that didn't fall apart at his touch.

Finally he lit the fire and sat as close as possible, drying his clothes and enjoying the warmth.

"I've been thinking lately about all this, Tommy..."

"Oh, don't think too hard then, we don't want you to hurt yourself."

Wilbur scoffed, but said nothing.

“L'manburg has banished us. Schlatt gave the order, but it was the people who pulled the trigger."

"We can still get it all back." Tommy assured him automatically, wiggling his cold-stiffened fingers. Wilbur shifted on the mattress.

"We have nothing to get back. Face it, Tommy, we have nowhere to go. Schlatt is not the source of our problems."

"I would say that he is. We were doing pretty well before he ruined everything."

Wilbur clapped, silencing the teenager's protests. He got up and began to pace in the cave, bending down and circling around the room.

“Let's suppose we reclaim L'manburg. What's next? Regardless of what we choose, we will be in a losing position. If we take power by force, we're no better than Dream. If we abolish Schlatt and hold another election, do you think the people who exiled us will stand up for us?" Wilbur stopped. His gaze was wild but focused. "We're the bad guys, no matter how we lay our cards."

"You're acting like an asshole again, Wil. L'manburg is ours. You said yourself that you built a country once, so you can do it again. L'manburg, OUR L'manburg, is still there. It's not lost, we just need to get it back."

Wilbur shook his head and rocked back on his heels.

"You say we have to get it back. I say we need to get rid of it, permanently. Let's blow this fucking country up to the smithereens!"

"Wilbur, you're not thinking straight!" Tommy shouted, getting up and rushing over to him. He grabbed the general's hands and forced him to look him in the eye.

Wilbur avoided his gaze, but when he finally caught it, his lip began to quiver.

"Everything we fought for, everything we suffered so much for - our legacy, your symphony, my home - L'manburg is not lost." Tommy's voice sounded imploring, as if it were a prayer to an unmerciful god.

Wilbur sighed deeply. His hands trembled and tears started to glisten in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, please, don't leave me here alone." He whispered, relaxing.

"You know I would never do that."

Wilbur shook his head stubbornly. He closed his eyes and began to breathe heavily, taking short breaths.

“Every day I'm afraid that you will leave me. They'd probably take you back. I need you. You're the only thing I have left." He fell into Tommy's arms, feeling good and safe there - as if he was where he belonged. The younger brother gritted his teeth and hugged him back, swallowing down the bitter feeling of regret and injustice. "Please don't hate me. You can't hate me. I need you."

“Wil, come on, how could I ever hate you? I would follow you into the fire." Tommy said softly. Wilbur tightened his hands on his shirt, pulling him even closer.

"You're good. You must despise me." He spoke, as if he was revealing the greatest secret. Tommy denied, shaking his head.

Rotten berries lay forgotten on the ground.

That night they both forgot about their hunger.

Naively, Tommy convinced himself with a stubbornness similar to that which had accompanied him in learning the Piglin language, that everything would return to its normal state - Wilbur would return to his full glory and lead the two of them against their enemies, to victory, and by the end of October they would both be eating cookies in the white house.

However, as the days passed, Wilbur's condition worsened instead of improving.

With a strange feeling in his ribs, Tommy thought that the demented stares his brother gave him, the constant panic attacks and worsening paranoia, were taking him back to his childhood, when The Bad Days were the worst problem in their lives.

He stretched, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing as his chest made a cracking sound.

"Tommy?"

He turned around, looking distrustfully at the brunet standing between the trees. Tubbo was wearing a suit with a green tie tied around his neck like a noose. He was wearing a beanie similar to Quackity's.

"I won't go with you." He barked a warning, ready to jump away.

His friend stared at him, looking lost. He shook his head and began nervously picking at his fingernails without looking up.

"I've been looking for you for a week." He admitted slowly, still avoiding his enraged gaze.

Tommy straightened up and cocked his head to the side. He stamped one foot, kneading the moss.

"Are you in such a hurry to arrest me?"

"I want to be your spy."

"What?"

The confession left Tubbo's mouth at lightning speed. Tommy stood still, feeling stunned.

The brunette finally looked him straight in the eye and began to nervously rub the back of his neck.

"That was my plan from the beginning, to be honest. I mean, I was scared at first, but Schlatt's an asshole. He's raising taxes, he treats others badly, gets drunk, doesn't listen to anyone... At first I was scared, but then I thought: I can be useful! He didn't banish me, so if I stay and be good, maybe he'll let me get closer to him!"

"And?" Tommy raised an eyebrow skeptically, though internally he was jumping with joy.

He knew he could rely on Tubbo. It was the most obvious thing in the world. All fear, bitterness and impatience seemed to leave his system. For the first time in weeks, he felt genuine hope.

"Well, I'm a member of his cabinet now, bossman." Tubbo smiled slyly. Finally, he stretched his hands forward, opening his arms. Tommy fell into his embrace, laughing victoriously.

"I knew you wouldn't betray us! I fucking knew it!"

He grabbed his hand and pulled him towards Pogtopia, jumping up and down with excitement with each step.

"Wilbur will be so happy!" He assured him with a sincere smile.

Wilbur wasn't happy - on the contrary, he was the furthest thing from being happy. He was rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, frowning and staring at the two teenagers with impatience and obvious irritation.

"A suspiciously convenient story, Tubbo. Especially after you left us for dead."

Tubo lowered his head.

“Actually, I was secretly digging a tunnel to where I last saw Tommy. I thought a connection to Manburg would be useful."

"Digging a tunnel?"

"Manburg?"

Tubbo looked at Wilbur uncertainly.

“Schlatt renamed it. Something about not taking L or something."

Wilbur clenched his teeth. Finally, he took a deep breath and clapped his hands.

"Excellent! So, we have a spy on our side!" He looked at Tubbo with a maniacal twinkle in his eye. "You're dismissed, go rest and come back with useful information."

Tubbo glanced at Tommy as if seeking permission to leave. The blond nodded confidently. He straightened up and looked at Wilbur, listening to his friend's retreating footsteps.

When they were alone, his brother looked at him in disbelief.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me? Any other secret?" he asked with an innocent smile. Tommy bit his lip. Finally, he pulled the obsidian shards from his pocket.

"I didn't want to let you down. I know you need me now." He explained gently. Wilbur took the obsidian from his open hand and walked over to the wall. Tommy followed him, panic rising. “I know you might have a grudge against Techno, but he doesn't know how human politics works. He couldn't have expected it." He began to explain, hoping for mercy.

To his surprise, Wilbur made a portal frame, and then set it off with a few sparks from flint and steel. He turned with a serious expression on his face and placed his hands on Tommy's shoulders.

"I'm not angry." He promised "We can't trust Tubbo. We can't trust anyone. But your Piglin can help us. It poses no threat to us. It cannot go beyond the Nether. And, it wants to protect you. Use it. Let it help us. It's our best chance to get supplies."

Tommy stared at him in disbelief.

"Isn't that ex-ploi-tation?" he asked uncertainly. Wilbur's fingers tightened on his shoulder.

"We're not in a position for you to question my orders." he said softly.

Tommy swallowed and nodded in understanding.

"Wil, you're hurting me." He whispered, waiting for his brother's grip to loosen. A shadow passed over the brunette's face. He looked strange for a moment, but then he removed his hand from the teen's shoulder and pulled it to his chest.

He looked at him.

"I trust you, Tommy."

"And I you." The blonde replied, trying to ignore how forced the words were.

Traveling to the Nether has never been so uncomfortable.

The hot and dry air enveloped him completely, like a mother's embrace. The familiar distant thumps, whose constant presence seemed to promise the permanence and immutability of this place, like a promise that even when everything collapsed this dimension would wait for him, made his uneasiness grow.

Tommy could imagine the amount of Phantoms that would be following him over the next few days.

Technoblade stood at the edge of the cliff, staring at him from a distance. His presence was not surprising; the Piglin seemed to sense Tommy's presence many times before, and reach him perfectly at the moment of crossing the barrier between the worlds.

Even from a distance, the teen could see his friend's frantic gestures - his name, repeated over and over again, combined with a quick gesture of putting his hand to his chest and pulling it away. The familiar greeting felt like a call home.

Tommy started toward the familiar spot, secretly looking around for a green hoodie. He saw Technoblade jump off the cliff, slide down its side, and land gracefully at the bottom, closer to Tommy.

"You don't look happy." He noted dryly. The teenager's face was contorted in a sign of an internal battle raging between his emotions.

The joy of being close to his friend again, the tiredness of the situation he was in, and the anger reminiscent of the never-quenching flames of the Nether.

Not for the first time, Tommy drew involuntary attention to the fact that it was the last of these emotions that seemed to prevail. He was getting more and more angry, which was getting harder and harder to control.

Even looking at Techno, who always kept him safe and was understanding, his first thought was bitter rage mixed with annoyance. His lungs seemed to burn, making him want to scream, but in the back of his mind he imagined Wilbur's cold gaze that was accompanying each his emotional outburst.

"We lost the election." He said finally, feeling the words roll heavily off his tongue. They were bland and lacked the sharpness that usually accompanied his voice when he felt injustice.

Technoblade cocked his head to the side, expecting clarification.

“We've been exiled. Tubbo's become our spy, but L'manburg is under Schlatt's rule. Wilbur was hurt and now it's all starting to get worse." He clenched his teeth, but unconsciously began to stamp his foot in open anger.

"So?" The Piglin encouraged him patiently.

“It was you who proposed to hold the election fairly, wasn't it? We don't have a home now. Fundy is against us. Everyone is against us. Wilbur needs help," he crossed his arms over his chest, "so we need someone to lend a helping hand in creating a rebellion."

Techno looked at him with his usual attention. He watched his every move and grimace, analyzing and arranging their meanings in his head. Finally, his ears popped up and his tail began to wag excitedly.

"Did somebody say rebellion?" he asked with amusement. Tommy smiled, feeling confident.

"Would you help us?"

"I can't fight, but I can get you whatever you need. Armor, swords, food. You can leave it in my hands. I'm always in favor of overthrowing the dictatorship."

Who took over kind of because of you, Tommy thought dryly, the thought echoing in his mind in Wilbur's voice. He nodded his head vigorously, raised his fist in the air in victory, and started jumping around Techno.

"Yes! We have something they don't have! We have the Blade! They won't know what fucking hit 'em!" He crowed victoriously.

Techno had a feeling that if he had pupils he would visibly roll his eyes – probably this gesture would be used by him as much as Tommy's name.

He picked Tommy up like a sack of potatoes, tossed him over his shoulder, and headed for his house.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

“No rebellion will succeed if its members look like they've been taking a bath in garbage and haven't slept in two lava's laps. You have so many bruises under your eyes you look like a raccoon."

The amusement didn't leave Techno's voice, though his drooping shoulders betrayed barely concealed concern. Tommy closed his eyes and buried his face in the rusty fur of his friend.

Techno's heart was beating in unison with the heart of the Nether.

With that in mind, he drifted into the arms of Morpheus, falling into a nightmare-free sleep for the first time in a long time.

Techno had a deep enough sense of the urgency of the situation that he forcibly shook off the instincts that were drawing him into a pleasant care-free void, allowing Tommy to leave the lair and return to Wilbur despite the choking squeal building up in his throat. It was a consolation that the boy looked much more alive after sleeping among the blankets and furs.

The Piglin gave him a set of clothes collected from his exploration trips—perhaps stripped from corpses, perhaps found in abandoned camps—and some blankets, grunting in approval as Tommy changed from his dirty uniform into a red and white T-shirt, spinning like a model.

With provisions, he set off, looking longingly for his friend. Tommy knew their visits had to be kept to a minimum, but that didn't stop his heart from aching.

Rhythmic beats followed him to the portal; their absence in the ravine made the place seem even more desolated than before.

Wilbur wasn't in their hideout. Nor did he roam the corridors of the mine connected to it. Instead, Tommy found him on the hill from which they had last seen L'manburg.

He stared at the glittering lights of the distant city, at the people walking through it and the animals roaming the streets. The remains of the burned flag were replaced by a new one, black with red elements, hovering with a kind of an eerie feeling over the young country.

L'manburg still bore the scars of the war for its freedom - places where the grass was a different shade, where the soil was unevenly spread, where there were holes still unpatched; buildings decorated with chipped plaster and beams of different shades from the rest, patching up holes created by explosions.

Even from a distance, despite his sense of danger, Tommy saw the place Wilbur had promised him as home.

“Techno will help us. He said he would collect weapons for us." He spoke after a few moments of silence. Wilbur nodded. His gaze was distant in the unsettling way Tommy remembered from his childhood.

Even though he'd spent his entire life supporting his brother, a selfish part of him wondered that if Sally had been with them long enough to witness the election fiasco, she might have taken some of that burden upon herself.

Not for the first time, his thoughts returned to Wilbur's beloved—although time was slowly watering down his memories, and the woman became a blurry silhouette from the past, disappearing more and more with each passing day, her character; self-confidence and a sharp tongue; didn't seem to go away from his subconscious - he was somewhat convinced that Sally would follow them into exile without hesitation, probably first throwing herself at Schlatt for the mere thought that he could dare to deprive them of their home.

Maybe if she had been with Wilbur at that moment, Fundy would have been with them too.

However, Sally remained buried under the rubble of their first attempt at finding a place to call their own. Sometimes it was frighteningly easy to imagine the horror of a stray traveler, who was unfortunate enough to come across the remains of a building and whatever was left of the red-haired beauty.

Until recently, Wilbur had recognized and defined himself as codependent Attempts at self-reliance seemed to become forgotten as soon as they've entered Pogtopia. He seemed to slowly depend on this interdependence, reverting to habits he had previously called incorrigible.

They returned to the ravine in loud silence.

Their days fell into a routine again - this time including Tommy's visits to Techno; Wilbur refused to see the Piglin, and when he thought Tommy was out of earshot, he filled the tunnels with paranoid whispers about how the beast would tear him apart the moment it laid its eyes on him - for neglecting Tommy, for letting them both be in a situation where their only sure support was based on a creature that couldn't even safely cross the border between the dimensions - though the latter might've made Wilbur trust Techno as much as his paranoid mind would allow.

The Piglin could not openly fight them or join the enemy, because the enemy had no idea of his existence. Once in the Overworld, even if Technoblade decided to attack them, he would be weakened until he would eventually rot, and after that, only a wandering shell would remain.

Their days were monotonous—intermittently, between gathering some supplies and Tommy's trips to the Nether, there would be daily visits from Tubbo, who brought back scant information.

Wilbur started biting his fingernails again, until they were shreds. His curls were matted; he couldn't run his fingers through them without ripping off some hairs along with the tangles.

Tommy took - with Wilbur's permission - the cape from Eret, which the brunette couldn't look at anymore, and gave it to Technoblade as an offering for his help.

The thought of the Piglin clad in hoglin skins and adorned with a royal cape was amusing to say the least, but the general realized that the creature deserved at least a semblance of respect from him.

When Tommy wasn't around, Wilbur allowed himself to spiral further, huddling against the walls of the caves, feeling a thousand eyes watching him. His mistakes followed him like a shadow.

Sometimes, in the corner of his eye, he saw his fears take a familiar form - he was slowly losing the ability to distinguish whether they were hallucinations or whether his nightmares had actually grown stronger and took an actual physical form - sometimes the gruesome beings visible only in the corner of his eye looked like Tommy, with an arrow stuck in his shoulder, with discs in hand; he stared at him in disappointment, but his eyes were blank. Wilbur closed his eyes and tugged at his hair until it hurt, relieved as the pain dispelled the gruesome vision.

Occasionally he saw Sally, and though he never saw what was left of her body, his mind could make up for the lack of that memory. The woman was standing in her favorite green dress, hat in hand. In an instant, her smile faded from her face, replaced by cold stare. With every breath and blink of Wilbur's eyes, layers of her skin began to peel off, splitting and leaving a bloody mess.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shivered as he felt the ghostly touch of charred skin. There was a time when fire had reminded him of warmth, her hair, safety. Now reddish flames engulfed her body until she finally disappeared without a word.

Wilbur was a good actor. Tommy glanced at him from time to time with concern, but the brunette quickly straightened up and answered his sincere question with a retort, watching with relief as his brother began to get nervous, shouting curses and threats with visible displeasure.

He didn't use to be this angry, a voice in the back of his head whispered treacherously. Wilbur clenched his hands into fists and forced a smile that looked more sincere than it really was.

The worst of the shadows that haunted him was Schlatt. Regardless of the day or time, Wilbur seemed to hear his taunting tone, criticizing his every move.

It seemed as if the whisper in the back of his head, which had accompanied him for so many years, finally took a physical form.

Sometimes, they were innocent comments.

"You know Tommy could go back to Manburg. I would welcome him with open arms."

At other times, they fueled his paranoia.

“I gave Tubbo an official position in my cabinet. You didn't acknowledge anything he did for you. How long do you think it'll be, before he finally realizes he deserves better than what you can give him?"

Wilbur covered his ears with his hands, shaking his head furiously. There was no clear purpose in that - Schlatt's voice was always just as clear.

The general was slowly beginning to spend every minute dreading his next move, waiting for the inevitable.

When Tommy returned from the Nether once more, he sat him down on the mattress, stepping away from the fire where he saw the shadow of Sally's hair.

He clasped his hands and began to move from foot to foot, feeling the heavy gaze of his younger brother on him. Finally, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his new overcoat - a gift Techno had given him, probably finding it on some careless traveler who hadn't brought enough gold with him.

"I'm a bad brother." He admitted confidently; the thought had haunted him ever since the portal opened - Tommy stopped running around as if he was about to collapse, the dark circles under his eyes disappeared, and his shirt didn't hang as loosely as it did when he was under Wilbur's care.

Technoblade seemed to point out his inability to keep the one thing that was most important in his life safe.

Tommy looked at him in a way that seemed to be appearing more and more often on his face - with disbelieving anger.

"You're not."

"You should hate me." he said again. His voice echoed hollowly along the ravine's walls. Tommy shook his head.

"I won't."

As if it was the easiest thing in the world to promise love and devotion and deny the inevitable.

"It must be hard being my brother." Don't leave me, the part of him that still belonged to him fully was whispering with desperation. Tommy's eyes, blue as the July sky, were filled with determination.

"You're my brother. It will never be hard." He leaned back, sinking slowly onto the mattress and spreading out on the furs he had brought from the Nether, "Even if you act like an asshole sometimes."

The warm feeling that filled Wilbur at the sound of his assurances quickly cooled to cold panic and irritation.

"Tommy." His voice was sharp and relentless. Tommy propped himself up on his elbows and lifted his head. He tilted it to the side, asking him a silent question. "I am your commander. You shouldn't question my authority and adress me like that."

The disappointment on Tommy's face was clear. Some part of Wilbur wanted to hurry up with an apology, start teasing, call his brother a gremlin, and pounce on him in an impromptu wrestling match.

"He's insubordinate. It's only a matter of time before he leaves you. Like every other person in your life." Schlatt's mocking voice spoke up. Wilbur flinched, but his expression didn't change.

Tommy was unpredictable. While his loyalty was certain, Wilbur didn't see him as helpful enough. They had been stuck in the ravine for a long time, without a plan or purpose.

When Tommy went to visit Techno for another round of supplies, the brunette pulled a nearly ruined communicator from his coat pocket and satisfactorily tapped out a message.

L'manburg was dead the moment it exiled its founder. Now all that was left was to make sure it got to turn into the ruin it deserved to become.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a sharp smile on the shadowy, horned figure. He didn't notice that it was beginning to resemble him.

Tommy's smile was sincere, filled with joy and mischief.

Technoblade poked him between the ribs, snorting as the blonde chuckled.

Two bushy eyebrows, drawn with charcoal above the Piglin's eyes, dropped in a dramatic frown.

"I can't believe you could betray me like that. Oh the pain. The betrayal! I knew I could only count on myself." Techno sighed dramatically, though the flicking of his left ear betrayed his amusement.

"You look so good. Resting Bitch Face really suits you.” Tommy choked out, reaching for a piece of coal that had been thrown on the floor.

When he reached his weapon, he threw himself at Techno, who was staring at him confused by his actions, mumbling something about swearing; and with a devilish smile began to draw a mustache on his snout.

The Piglin could have interrupted him with one move, but he chose to endure utter humiliation by wagging his tail impatiently.

Tommy smiled triumphantly as he finished his work and watched with satisfaction. Techno sneezed, frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You look like an aristocrat." Tommy concluded.

The Piglin ditched his leather tunic for a white shirt and pants that he, with Tommy's help, cut to suit his inhuman anatomy, a while ago.

A red cape with white fur, his latest acquisition and most prized possession, adorned his shoulders, fastened with a gold chain around his neck.

"Ah yes, here I am, Sir Billiam the Third." He started with an exaggerated accent. Tommy burst out laughing, doubled over. "How dare you laugh at me. You are poor. Poor people have no right to feel joy. They cannot afford it!"

"Can I buy half a pack of joy sir?"

"What will you pay me with, pheasant?"

"Not swearing for a week."

Techno's ears snapped to attention. He scratched his snout as if wondering deeply if it was a worthy trade.

“Okay then, you can feel happy because I am exceptionally generous.”

As Tommy opened his mouth to utter the solidest and nastiest word he knew, Technoblade covered it with his hand, wincing as he felt his friend's wet tongue on it.

“Ew, I don't know if Wilbur vaccinated you. Don't do that, you might have rabies."

“I should never have brought you medical books. You're worse than... basically anyone. You're a nerd."

Techno snorted. He wiped his mustache with his hand, but forgot the thick eyebrows that graced his forehead. Tommy felt an inner satisfaction.

They spent the afternoon and early evening teasing and joking. Tommy had busied himself with a challange to see how many ribbons he could tie around Techno's tail while he was preparing dinner before Piglin noticed.

It was eight, which was surprising, but could be blamed on the fact that cooking was consuming Techno's attention more than many books.

After taking a nap on Nutpig's side, who watched him lazily through half-closed eyelids, Tommy grabbed his supply bag and headed for the exit.

"Until next time, boys." Nutpig snorted in a quasi-reply, and Techno shook his head, exposing his tusks in an imitation of a smile.

"Safe travels. Watch out for the cliffs." He grunted as he untied the last of the ribbons.

Tommy nodded and boldly crossed the portal's frame, ignoring the emptiness that accompanied him with the lack of rhythmic beats and sounds of bubbling lava.

The absence of Wilbur caught his eye immediately. With a strange feeling of heaviness in his stomach, he grabbed the crossbow propped against the wall and headed for the exit, thinking about the possible scenarios.

The green hoodie and white mask were one of the first things he saw.

Dream was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, looking as confident as ever. The growl that seemed to gather in Tommy's throat had to be suppressed with force.

Wilbur smiled maniacally.

"Tommy! Glad you're joining us! Dream and I just made a deal!"

"Wilbur! Hand me that TnT." Tommy's voice was firm and cool. He aimed the crossbow at his brother. His brows were furrowed and his palms were starting to get wet with sweat.

Wilbur smiled wider. He knew Tommy couldn't fire. Not in his direction.

"I told you. Killing Schlatt won't change anything. We need to get rid of the source of the problem." He gestured enthusiastically towards the dynamite bars. "If I can't have L'manburg, no one can."

"You sound like a moron, Wilbur." growled Tommy. He raised the crossbow a little higher, aiming at his brother's recently damaged arm. "I'll ask again. Hand me that TnT." He repeated.

"Tommy, I'll have to step in."

Dream stepped in front of Wilbur, pushing him behind him as if he were his protector. Tommy's scowled. There was a sharp line between his eyebrows, and his eyes shone dangerously.

"Step back." He tightened his grip on the crossbow, feeling a thrill of excitement as he felt the string under his fingers. "I won't believe you want to help us out of the goodness of your fucking heart."

"Because I don't. I don't care whose reign Manburg is under. All I want is for it to finally disappear." He said indifferently. Tommy gritted his teeth as Wilbur clapped his hands together with childish glee.

"You see? We have a common goal! Dream, I want to be your vassal."

"We didn't agree to this. We'll get L'manburg back. We still have hope."

“The point is, Tommy; hope doesn't really mean anything, does it? It's just an empty word you like tossing around, thinking that maybe this time it will stick.” Dream shrugged.

Both men looked bored. Finally, Wilbur pushed Dream aside and stood in front of Tommy with open arms.

"Then shoot."

His voice was empty, though there was a challenge in it. Tommy lowered the crossbow, his trembling fingers tightening around the handle. He shook his head. Wilbur devoured the image with obvious satisfaction.

"Then don't get in my way and don't undermine my orders. There is a reason why you are a soldier and not a commander." he said sharply. He shook Dream's hand, ignoring the shivering blonde. "It's an honor to do business with you, friend."

"The pleasure's all mine." The masked man answered with amusement. He saluted and headed his way, glancing back in the direction of Pogtopia from time to time.

Despite the mask, Tommy felt that his gaze was directed at him.

Wilbur dragged him into the cave, clutching his wrist painfully. His hands were shaking and his eyes were roaming the walls of the ravine as if searching for something.

"Tommy, I think it's time you stopped visiting the Nether." Despite the torches and lamps, Pogtopia was plunged into darkness. The hum of the portal seemed reassuring, but along with Wilbur's words, it began to make the teenager anxious.

"Wilbur, you're acting like a fool. Techno's helping us. He's my sounder." The brunette winced and tightened his hand on the blonde's wrist.

Finally, he released him and straightened up with deceptive indifference. He looked down at Tommy as if he were watching the pieces on the board and analyzing what his next move should be.

"You're a traitor."

"What?"

"You're going to betray me like everyone else! Oh, you wanna leave me here alone? Am I too much of a burden to you?" The mocking tone of his voice seemed to cut Tommy like a sword.

"Wilbur, listen to yourself. You sound ridiculous! We can get L'manburg back! You said yourself that you've built a country once, you can do it again! This isn't the end."

Wilbur leaned over to him, smiling slyly.

"So you want to give me orders now? You think you know better? Tommy, when I said you weren't going to be president, it wasn't a challenge. You'll never be president, Tommy. You're not fit." He leaned in close enough that Tommy could feel his breath. "You are a soldier. It's your job to follow the orders, not question them."

Tommy pushed him away. His eyebrows were drawn together. His upper lip was lifted to reveal his teeth. He leaned forward as if to jump, bending his knees and standing on his tiptoes.

The shadows following Wilbur seemed to incite him, delighted with the situation. The man shuddered when Schlatt's mocking expression ran through his mind.

"Fuck you." The teen growled, clenching his hands into fists. Wilbur leaned back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"It was an order, not a suggestion. You are not allowed to see that Piglin." He replied dryly and indifferently.

"You change your mind surprisingly quickly." Tommy replied. He didn't change his position, ready to attack. "I won't leave you, but you can't take this from me."

He pulled away, not literally, but Wilbur could feel the gap forming between them. Tommy looked at him with determination. His face instantly merged with the shadowy figure following him, the arrow sticking out of his skin, the signed constitution in his hand; crumpled and torn, but still a testament to his devotion.

The brunette shuddered and doubled over. A sob escaped his throat and his whole body began to tremble.

"You're going to leave me. You can't leave me. I don't have anyone else. Tubbo will leave us as soon as the opportunity arises. I can't stay alone. Please." He looked at Tommy, who relaxed and stared at him. His gaze softened. Wilbur sobbed. "Don't leave me."

"You know I'll never do that." Tommy assured him again, in a tired voice. His shoulders sagged as if under an enormous weight. He held out his hand, bruises slowly appearing on the wrist.

Wilbur fell into his arms, burying his head in his shoulder. He clenched his hands on the blonde's shirt. He hugged him as if his life depended on it.

He didn't notice that Tommy had hesitated before putting his own arms around him.

“I'm sorry. I think I'm getting worse.”

Tommy didn't say anything.

The following days passed. Accumulated in the mine tunnels, the TnT seemed to cast a shadow over the brothers. Wilbur wandered the corridors, meeting with Dream from time to time, or listening to Tubbo's reports.

Tommy was grateful for his friend. Their bond was unbreakable and became the basis of the blonde's existence since he had to limit his visits to the Nether.

Encounters with Techno became a secret; maybe that's why Tommy was able to better understand Tubbo's situation. Although his friend risked a lot more if he got caught sneaking off.

The teenagers were sitting on the grass near the hill overlooking L'manburg. Tubbo was clutching the beanie he had stolen from Quackity - to Tommy's amusement and delight - as if he was in deep contemplation.

"So, how are you?" The blonde asked casually, although his friend's twitch was noticable.

"Well, Schlatt is planning-"

"I don't care what Schlatt's doing. I'm asking about you. We haven't had a chance to just talk in a long time." Irritation, like sparks of anger that was difficult to direct at a specific person – Schlatt, who banished the brothers; Wilbur, who was beginning to lose touch with reality, no matter how hard Tommy tried to be by his side like an anchor holding a ship in place during a storm; Dream, who fueled Wilbur's paranoia.

Tubbo let go of his beanie, smoothed his fringe out from under it, and began to pick at the blades of grass with his fingers.

"I'm managing."

"Okay, I'll start then. Wilbur drives me crazy, and I want to set this whole forest on fire to vent my anger. Though I should probably try a different form of controlled aggression or some other shit."

Tubbo sniffled as he continued to abuse the grass.

"It's bad. Schlatt gets drunk all the time, argues with everyone, raises taxes even more, and recently threw a bottle of whiskey at me. I'm fine!" He reassured him quickly, raising his hands defensively. "I miss spending time in the garden though."

"I miss spending time with you." Tommy admitted, looking blankly at the grass. He started tearing it out in handfuls.

Time seemed terrifyingly fluid. It was getting harder and harder to pinpoint the point at which his duties overwhelmed him enough to leave him no time for casual conversation that didn't involve L'manburg or any other conflict.

"You're my best friend, boss man." Tubbo said softly. He avoided Tommy's gaze, instead looking in the direction of L'manburg.

"And you mine." An obvious truth, like the fact that sky was blue and the grass was green.

Wilbur was his brother, Techno was his sounder. These were different relationships, with different grounds, requirements and foundations.

Tubbo was his best friend.

"I don't know how to say it, boss man."

"What?" Tommy's interest made him notice again how haggard Tubbo looked. The boy tightened his hands on the beanie again, loosening the grip from time to time. He shrugged before gripping the fabric a little more securely.

"It turns out I'm a hybrid too." He said quietly. Before Tommy could speak, his friend uncovered a pair of fluffy sheep ears and barely visible horns.

"Do you have a tail?" He asked.

Ignoring the premise of Tubbo's manifestation was difficult. For Fundy, it was stress. For Tubbo, it must have been sheer desperation to have any semblance of security.

The brunette laughed incredulously. It was an uncertain sound, full of surprise, but sincere.

"I have." He admitted with amusement. He lifted his jacket, revealing his tail. Tommy nudged him on the shoulder with a slightly forced smile.

"I can't believe you manifested before me."

"Well, you're the youngest. Fundy doesn't count, mentally he's at least four years older than you."

"Fuck you too." Tommy huffed, but his voice was devoid of any real bite.

He watched Tubbo relax, exhausted from the stress of the uncertainty of acceptance. Nature must have really hated him to adorn him with the features of the person he hated.

Tommy clenched his fists at the thought of how awful it must have been to look in the mirror and see someone who made your life hell.

The war was exhausting, and Tommy wasn't sure if he wasn't tired enough from the adventures. The slightly amusing thought crossed his mind; that he had experienced enough for his life.

"We could run away." He said. The proposal had been in the air for a long time, becoming clearer with each meeting with Tubbo, but neither of them had yet voiced it.

Blue eyes flicked to him, and Tommy mentally cursed himself at the sight of the sheep-like pupils. He should've noticed sooner that his friend needed his support. Instead, he allowed Tubbo to spend the time between manifesting and revealing it to Tommy in uncertainty and fear.

"What do you mean?"

"We could run. Even now. Just the two of us, never look back. We could build a farm and have hundreds of cows. Us against the world."

Tubbo smiled serenely.

“We could have bees and a garden full of flowers. We could live by a lake where we could swim in the summer.”

"Which I would push you into."

"Please, we both know I'm the stronger one."

Tommy pushed him. Tubbo rolled down the grass, dragging the blonde with him. Finally they lay down at the foot of the hill, breathing heavily.

They had leaves and flowers in their hair. The sun, a remnant of summer and a promise of a calm autumn, warmed their faces.

Tommy looked up at the clouds, watching them slowly float across the sky.

"We can't. We have to stay."

Tubbo sighed at his side, but didn't deny it. Tommy frowned.

“L'manburg needs us. We have to get it back. We have to stay here."

"We have to stay." Tubbo confirmed.

The man watching them from a distance smiled slyly as he disappeared into the forest.

Chapter Text

"We have to tell Wilbur."

These were not the words Tommy expected to hear from Tubbo. Requests to go back to contemplating running away, or ignoring the problem, hiding Tubbo's manifestation long enough to defeat Schlatt, and revealing it to Wilbur the moment he was a little more mentally stable would be more suited to their situation.

It wasn't like Tommy wanted to lie. Avoiding the truth was a risky option, and lying was bitter and full of disappointment.

But Tubbo was his friend, and Tommy, despite believing Wilbur to be a great leader and a reasonable person, had a feeling that his brother wasn't in good enough shape to tell one ram hybrid from another.

His friend didn't deserve to be embroiled in the endless chain of problems that seemed to surround the two brothers, and the blond teen wouldn't forgive himself if his guilt and naive faith in Wilbur led to Tubbo getting hurt.

"I'm not sure-" He started hesitantly, but Tubbo shook his head, a spark in his eyes that foretold there was no way he was going to change his mind.

"There's a festival coming up, which would be a good time to make our move. We need to trust each other more than ever." He looked at his hands. One of them was wrapped in a bandage after he had cut it with the remains of a bottle that Schlatt had thrown at him before telling him to clean it up.

Tommy let out a shaky breath through his teeth, slumping slightly. His hand went to the two beads hanging around his neck. He began to twirl them between his fingers, seeing Tubbo involuntarily glance in their direction.

“We have to trust each other, but Wilbur is fucking crazy right now. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"Come on, you know I'm stronger than I look."

"Well, your height is quite deceiving."

"Oi!" Tubbo kicked him in the ankle, feigning indignation. The corners of his mouth twitched until an incredulous smile appeared on his face.

Tommy frowned and grimaced. Wilbur was spending more and more time overseeing his whereabouts and conversations. The reports he had made Tommy do covered every activity he did during the day. The teen tried to ignore the stinging feeling of experiencing outright distrust from his brother.

Until a few days earlier, he had been able to joke with Wilbur and bring him out of his chronic state of fatigue and paranoia with just a few words, poking fun at himself or others. And in a matter of days, it all became worthless and redundant, and Wilbur's words to him became vicious and contemptuous.

Tommy couldn't believe how quickly the progress they had made was destroyed, leveled and forgotten.

"Everything we do and talk about comes down to L'manburg and Pogtopia." To Wilbur, though that part has been left unsaid. Yet both boys heard it as clearly as if the words had been spoken aloud.

Tubbo frowned and shrugged.

"Well, we're in a situation where it's hard for us to talk about anything else."

Tommy hummed under his breath, reluctantly agreeing with his friend. It was hard to ignore the specter of anxiety hanging over them.

The beads he was playing with clinked together. He pursed his lips into a thin line and stared at the horizon.

They sat on a different hill from the one from which they could watch L'manburg. Instead, they were looking at a river surrounded by trees. At its edge, Tommy was sure he could see Bad and Skeppy arguing by the creek.

Bad - and Tommy was sure after looking closely that it was them - looked soaked, and Skeppy leaned back in maniacal laughter, then started to toddle towards him, probably planning to throw him back into the water; the teen had a strong feeling that he would be able to deduce the source of their dispute.

It didn't seem fair that two adult friends could argue and play in the river while Tubbo and he had to focus on planning the war and making sure the risks they were taking didn't cost them too much.

He looked at Tubbo - who had stopped wearing his hat around him, leaving the sheep's ears in plain sight. Who trusted Tommy unconditionally, knowing that the blonde wouldn't see him as a tyrant's clone.

"There's something I'd like to tell you."

Tubbo's ear twitched. The brunette turned to his friend, raising an eyebrow at the sound of his conspiratorial whisper.

"You murdered someone? It'll be fine, I'll help you hide the body. If we bury them vertically, it will be harder to find it." He assured eagerly, and Tommy rolled his eyes. He poked him between the ribs, frowning in feigned anger.

"Oi, big man, this is serious!" He growled, but his voice quavered in barely suppressed laughter.

"You know I can keep a secret. I didn't tell absolutely anyone about the fact that you stole all the pasta Niki made, and then, when you saw Jack trip over a rock and fall on his face, you laughed so hard that the noodles came out of your nose. And then you ate them, which was disgusting. You can trust me."

"Remind me of this again, and you will suffer more than any of my enemies ever have."

"Probably because all your enemies are much stronger than you, so they didn't suffer at all."

Tommy shoved Tubbo, causing him to fall to the ground with a groan. Instead of ending the discussion diplomatically, or admitting to Tommy that he was the biggest and most powerful man ever, the brunette charged and headbutted Tommy's back.

The teen groaned, looking at his friend reproachfully.

Tubbo grinned like a demon he was. Tommy thought the horns definitely suited him.

"I also didn't tell anyone about the toilet incident. Or the incident with the spoons Wilbur bought from that one merchant. The ones that cost fortune."

"Okay, you helped me with that last one!"

"Or the trolley accident."

"It was your fault too!"

"Or the spiked food?"

Tommy clenched his teeth and pressed his lips into a tight line.

"I won't let my addictions and food tendencies be judged by someone who fancies poisoning himself with puffer fish, which is the entire reason we have a cupboard dedicated to the antidote to its poison." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Also, just so you know, potions for invisibility, speed, and a steak go very well together."

“Is denial a key ingredient in this recipe too? Because it's not out of your system yet, that's for sure." Tubbo sniffed. “And it was more charcoal than steak. And the fact that you tried to cook it even further by stuffing it inside a salmon to make a cursed version of devolai is a proof that you deserve to be arrested for war crimes."

"You'll never know if something is tasty or not until you try it!"

“It was salmon stuffed with steak which was soaked in various potions. What's been going on with your stomach after eating that told me enough about your cooking talent. Your food is of the same quality before and after consumption-”

"Okay bee boy, you can keep a secret, stop slandering me!" Tommy sniffled, feeling a stinging resentment. His genius was not appreciated during his lifetime.

He looked around conspiratorially, then, satisfied, nodded to himself.

"So, when I was little, I met a Piglin in the Nether-" He began in a conspiratorial whisper, telling his epic backstory. Tubbo raised an eyebrow but didn't interrupt him. "His name is Techno, and he's basically my..."

Tommy paused, considering. Describing who Techno was would be difficult to understand for people who had no idea about the Piglin relationship structure.

Being part of the sounder was more than friendship. Their dynamic was different from what Tommy had with Tubbo. There were many similarities—loyalty, trust—but calling Techno a friend seemed less and less appropriate with each passing day.

Friendship wasn't the word to describe what the Piglin was to him.

When he met Tubbo's gaze, who was intrigued, waiting for the continuation, he smiled slightly.

"Well, actually, he's my brother. He took care of me when Wilbur had problems with it, and we spent a lot of time together."

Tommy's voice was confident, but every time he looked at Tubbo, he felt like he was seeing something that was off.

His friend looked at him doubtfully.

"Tommy, I know you're good with animals - you're like a princess with how much nature loves you - but I don't think..." Tubbo looked like he was really trying not to hurt his feelings. "I mean... Boss man, I don't doubt you've befriended a Piglin, but it's a mob, isn't it? There's definitely a connection between you two, but I don't think it's aware enough to really understand it. It's probably an instinct to take care of a youngster, but calling it a brother seems like a bit of a long shot."

Tommy frowned and clenched his teeth. He dug his fingers into the ground, digging up tufts of grass.

"I believe you know a Piglin!" Tubbo assured when he saw his reaction. As if lying was something that was bothering Tommy. “But, boss man, you have to admit that it sounds a bit ridiculous. Will you be friends with a creeper too? You gonna start calling it your sister? It's just... Piglins aren't human. They're animals."

"Well, you're not fucking human either, in case you haven't noticed." Tommy interjected. His voice was seething with irritation. "Why does everyone think they know better? Everyone thinks they are mindless creatures who only care about fucking gold! And at the same time, everyone knows that they can trade, build, that they have their own hierarchy, weapons, that they make armor, that they have their own fucking language!”

Tubbo looked at him uncertainly, but Tommy ignored his discomfort.

“Techno isn't an animal! He's a person! Why is it so fucking hard for everyone to understand? So what if Piglins are different from us? They have just as much in common with us too!” He held out his hand and began counting on his fingers. "Techno bandaged me when a Hoglin attacked me. Wilbur and Dad insist it's because of my hair, but that's a lie! Techno taught me his language and culture, and showed me the Nether, and in return wanted to learn more about humans. He shows compassion, a desire to learn - he has his own culture! He has his own methods of communication!” He grabbed his necklace and showed it to Tubbo. "He made this, for me. He didn't accept anyone but me into his sounder. It wasn't a coincidence or an instinct! We chose each other."

"Tommy-"

"Just because he's different from us doesn't mean he's mindless or evil."

He fell silent, returning to his mistreatment of grass and dirt. His friend bleated nervously, blushing in surprise at the sound he made.

"Did he really teach you his language?" he asked, offering an olive branch.

Tommy welcomed it with open arms. Although Tubbo's words were full of ignorance, they came from concern, not hate.

"Yes. It took some time. We had to communicate through drawings. Now it's as if I've always spoken that language."

"What does this necklace mean?"

Tommy glanced at the beads. He sighed and lay down on the grass.

“The beads symbolize the members of the sounder. It's a universal sign for other Piglins, informing them that you have a family to support you."

Tubbo smiled, hesitantly but genuinely.

"Okay. I trust you, so if you say your friend is self-aware and doesn't have homicidal tendencies, then I believe it."

“Well, basically none of the Piglins have them. They just don't like people. The fact that they don't attack you when you wear something gold is not because of their instincts, but more because they believe that since you have gold, you will come to trade with them, not attack them."

"Huh."

They passed the afternoon like this; Tommy answered Tubbo's questions, feeling a certain lightness in his heart at being able to share his knowledge of the Piglin culture. The brunet asked all kinds of questions, including those that Tommy didn't have an answer to yet.

The blonde told him about red forests, about trees that were mutations of mushrooms, about Hoglins that attacked everything that moved - about Nutpig, who was an exception because Tommy and Techno helped her, which Tubbo commented loudly by announcing that the princess allegations were true after all - about the Endermen, who also had their own language and were indifferent to the Piglins, sometimes living in symbiosis with them - bringing gold in exchange for the ability to pass through their territories - about the hierarchy in bastions and about food.

The latter was met with another high-profile comment, this time claiming that since Tommy grew up eating raw meat, it explained at least a few things about him.

Eventually, the teenagers fell silent, staring at the setting sun.

"I can't believe you could keep something like this a secret for so long." Tubbo finally told him, though he sounded amused.

“Technoblade is really, really socially awkward. I have spared you the pity you would've felt for him if you saw him trying to interact with any other living being."

Tubbo laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I would still like to tell Wilbur."

Tommy groaned, long and painfully, reluctantly returning to the subject they had abandoned.

"Oh, stop bitching."

"You're the one bitching, I'm the strongest and the biggest man in the world. I just lament over your stupidity."

Tubbo raised an eyebrow. The forest was quiet, almost unnatural. A shiver ran down his neck, but he ignored the unpleasant sensation, instead stubbornly seeking his friend's gaze.

"You trust Wilbur." When the blond nodded, albeit uncertainly, he added. "So that's all I need."

"It's complicated. Maybe Wilbur won't start trusting you at all. Maybe he'll find you a traitor instead. He already thinks everyone's just waiting to stab him in the back."

"Okay. Let's do this: if something goes wrong, we'll run away together. If anything happens to me or you, we'll go on the adventure of a lifetime, and bring Techno with us, for protection."

A small smile appeared on Tommy's face. He nodded and rolled his eyes.

"You are so fucking stubborn. It's weird that you're a ram, you should be a donkey instead."

Tubbo shoved him onto the grass in response.

In the end, they waited to tell Wilbur that Tubbo had manifested and was traumatized for life anyway .

The moment they chose to reveal the great secret was precisely timed. Tubbo ran into Pogtopia, breathing heavily.

His hair was disheveled and his palms were sweaty. He wiped them on his pants and took a few deep breaths. His tie was loosely tied - but correctly, probably thanks to Niki, who helped him backstage in any way she could. It was unknown to any of the rebels whether she knew about Tubbo's situation or whether it was simply her kindness and pure willingness to help the boy.

Niki wanted peace, and Schlatt was unable to provide it. Tubbo's subsequent reports revealed that despite being a businessman, the man did not care about the economy, letting it plummet down, imposing more and more taxes and hiding behind the persona of a brilliant and charismatic orator.

Wilbur looked at Tubbo casually, arching an eyebrow at his condition.

The curls peeking out from under a red beanie fell over his forehead. They were greasy and filled with dust. The coat Techno had given him was stained with soot and sulfur. One of the sleeves had a hole created by cigarette burn.

And yet Wilbur still had the audacity to look at Tubbo's messy hair and sweat dripping temple and crumpled suit as if the teen was the one who looked homeless.

“Schlatt wants to organize a festival to celebrate democracy. He made me responsible for doing a speech for that. And he told me to take care of planning out the event." Tubbo announced.

Wilbur smiled and Tommy raised an eyebrow.

"Democration. Yeah, right.” The blonde grimaced, shaking his head disapprovingly. The corner of Tubbo's mouth twitched into a suppressed smile.

The general waved his hand, silencing his brother with one simple gesture. Then, he looked at his spy critically, as if searching for evidence of his possible treason. He finally gave up and clapped his hands.

There was a wide smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. Behind him, Tommy's expression was resigned, and Tubbo got the impression that what he was about to hear wasn't the best proof of mental stability.

"Excellent! That's when we'll strike!"

"Wil..."

"Tommy, shush. It's not your place to interrupt me." Tubbo raised an inquiring eyebrow, but Tommy looked away, avoiding the silent question.

"What's the plan, boss man?"

"Oh Tubbo. You don't have to worry about anything. Everything is ready to go.”

"What?" Tommy chimed in again, his lips pressed into a thin line, taking a step back at the critical look he received from his older brother. "Wilbur, you didn't tell me anything." He added reproachfully.

"There was no need." The general shrugged. Tubbo felt unpleasantly cold.

"What's ready?" he asked uncertainly.

"Dynamite, of course! There is so much hidden in the tunnels beneath L'manburg that this whole cursed place will be nothing but dust!”

"What?" The boys asked simultaneously. Tommy began to curse, yelling at the brunette with reproach. Tubbo stared at him in bewilderment.

He squeezed his eyes shut as the brothers' quarrel escalated. They didn't have time, and the situation was getting more and more complicated by the moment.

"Wilbur, there's something you need to know." He interrupted them, taking a deep breath. Tommy looked at him in horror, shaking his head frantically.

"Big man, now, of all the moments possible, is probably the worst."

"We have to trust each other, right?" He looked at Wilbur, smiling sadly. "Can we find another solution? I don't want to blow up L'manburg. It is my home."

Wilbur looked weary and tired of this argument. Looking at the blond teen, who busied himself with biting his fingernails, Tubbo guessed that he had probably heard those words quite often.

“Right, erm... We have to trust each other. So... Uh, I'm a hybrid, and I've manifested from all that stress, and I kinda look like Schlatt." He took off his beanie and stared at the ground, praying silently that the next minute there would be no sword in his chest. He lifted his head at the sound of hysterical laughter.

"Oh, this is golden. Life really hates you, doesn't it, Tubbo?" Wilbur asked amusedly, wiping tears from his eyes. The teen smiled nervously.

"Well, it's not an ideal situation." He admitted, and the general shook his head.

"On the contrary! This is the perfect situation! How else do you get into Schlatt's good graces? Life has served you on a silver platter the opportunity to get closer to him!” He smiled warmly, but there was something strange about his expression.

"So... You're not angry?"

"For something beyond your control? Tubbo, you're hurting me, I thought you had a little more confidence in me."

"Well, I was a bit stressed... It feels good that you still trust me."

Wilbur nodded and placed a hand on his shoulder. He bent down and tilted his head to the side. His smile got a little wider.

"Of course. And to show you how much I trust you, it's up to you to decide if we should blow it all up."

Both teenagers froze.

"What?" Tubbo whispered in disbelief. Tommy grabbed Wilbur's arm and pulled him away from his friend, wincing.

"You're fucking kidding." He growled, assuming a position Tubbo had seen a few times before. He briefly wondered if the blonde knew about his body language, or if it was fully instinctive. "Wilbur, you can't-"

"Okay." Tubbo said, looking down.

"What?"

"Excellent! I knew I could rely on you. Tommy should learn how to follow orders from your example. He's too feral." Wilbur began to nod to himself, whispering something incoherent. He looked towards the tunnels and nodded. “My dear business partner is waiting for me, and he is not a patient person. So, if you'll excuse me..." he saluted before turning to the boys one last time. "Tubbo, that's really great news. I hope you won't let us down."

"Of course, sir." The brunette swore, sighing with relief. Tommy patted his back and shook his head.

"You are so incredibly fucking stupid." He stated.

"Well, sometimes I have to do that for you." He smiled at the sound of annoyance his friend made. “Oh, I met Sam recently. He said to tell you not to give up. And he said Fran sends her regards. He asked me to give this to you." He pulled from his pocket the rumpled photos the man had given him a few days earlier. Tommy accepted them with curiosity.

Then he let out a really manly squeak. His face softened.

"Awww, look at her! What great paws she has!”

Tubbo shook his head.

Perhaps everything was moving in the right direction, despite earlier worries.

The festival was approaching and Tommy was starting to get stomachaches from the nerves that accompanied the looming feeling of hopelessness.

Wilbur paced the corridors of Pogtopia, whispering to himself, glancing at the shadows as if he expected someone to be hiding in them, and occasionally bursting into anger, whining about Tommy's incompetence.

The teenager tried not to think about the moment when his brother lost his temper after he proposed to meet with Sam or Eret - because both expressed their readiness to help them, Eret out of a sense of duty and guilt, and Sam out of his sympathy towards Tommy.

Wilbur was his brother, and how deep their love was and how well they knew each other was evidenced by the fact that he knew how to strike to cause the most pain.

When he dragged Tommy to the fast, cramped, dark closet that had contained rusty pickaxes and food scraps before Pogtopia was cleared, and which was probably used as storage for the miners who had once used the mine, the teen didn't resist.

He tried to reach his brother, but he was adamant when he slammed the door and left the blonde alone.

Tommy has seen panic attacks, but he's never before had one that was strong enough to knock him off his feet.

For a moment he was sure he was dying, which only fueled his fear. He felt like he was drowning; as if his body was weighed down by tons of water, and each breath only brought him closer to death.

It started slowly, with curses and name-calling, demanding that Wilbur let him go, banging on the door as if to break it down. As he heard his brother's footsteps recede instead, his breathing quickened. He began to beg, calling after him.

And suddenly, as if out of nowhere, he felt that he couldn't take a breath. It became difficult to fill his lungs with air - as if he were stuck in a vacuum, and the oxygen began to slowly disappear. He crumpled to the ground, pounding his fists against the floor, breathing faster and faster.

His head was spinning, and his chest heaved with stress, as if a flock of butterflies had been released inside him, slowly crawling into his muscles, organs, and bones.

His cheeks remained dry and his eyelids were clenched shut. Tommy would never have allowed himself to cry, and even in the midst of a total panic he remembered that resolve.

Finally, Wilbur opened the door. He was either bored or had a flash of clarity.

For a moment he looked like he was about to apologize, but his gaze hardened. He turned and left Tommy, alone on the floor, gasping for breath.

Perhaps that was why Tommy didn't feel much remorse when he entered the Nether behind the back of the general, who looked less and less like his brother with each passing day.

Entering the house, Techno bumped into him. The Piglin pulled away with a soft snort.

"You haven't been here for a long time." He stated dryly. His ears twitched and his tail wagged happily. Tommy grinned widely and slapped him on the shoulder.

"Big man shit to do, you know how it is."

"I really don't." His friend said. His ears drooped and his snout wrinkled. "And I'm not sure I want to know." He added.

Tommy sank into a chair in the dining room. He put his hands on the table and began to absently trace his finger along the visible circles on it. He raised an eyebrow.

"Where did you get the wood?" He asked, then pursed his lips. "Where did you get the table from? It hasn't been here the last time."

"I am a man of many talents." The Piglin replied, stepping into the kitchen. From his granary he took out baked potatoes and two pieces of meat. He handed them to Tommy.

"So you stole someone's table?" He grunted. Techno winced mercilessly when the food from the blonde's mouth splashed onto the table. His tail curled in an open expression of utter disgust.

"You know, even Hoglins have better table manners." Tommy answered him with his middle finger, then shoved another piece of meat into his mouth.

The Piglin opened the window. He was immediately greeted by Nutpig, who sniffed at his hand and then gracefully took the strip of meat he presented her.

He sat down at the table, resting his elbows on it.

"I didn't steal it. You should know that none of the humans are skilled enough to create something like this. I made it myself."

"Oh, of course, I'm so sorry. It's obvious that in the week I haven't seen you, you've decided to become a carpenter."

"See? I have many talents, I told you so already." Techno replied good-naturedly to the sound of sarcasm. His ear twitched. “When I retire, I'm going to build stuff. And start raising wolves."

"And looking after turtles, and maybe meanwhile you'll do some community service and devote yourself to planting carrots."

The Piglin nudged him. When Tommy coughed in surprise, spitting a few crumbs at him, he squealed, jumping away.

"Take your bacteria away, you're reducing the value of my property!"

"Stop whining, you're worse than Niki when she teaches bread baking. Tommy, put it down. Tommy, don't try to snort the flour like drugs. Tommy, stop chewing on a stick of butter. Mimimi."

"Bruuuh." Technoblade shook his head in resignation. "I guess when you were raised, your guardians forgot to add some basic culture to the curriculum."

"Oi."

Techno nodded, as if Tommy's reaction was not justified but instead supported his opinion and proved him right.

The teen finished eating, grunting and breathing heavily. He ate so fast it looked like he was inhaling his food.

He looked at Techno, watching him carefully. Suddenly he started choking. He punched his chest, and burst out laughing as the panicked Piglin ran over to help him, knocking over two stools and a chair in his mini-marathon.

The Piglin's face was furrowed with concern, but what caught his attention was the faint but still noticeable coloration of the fur above his eyes. The eyebrows that Tommy had drawn on him not so long ago faded, but their outline remained on Techno's face.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I just forgot how expressive you are."

"See, I feel like you're making fun of me right now, but I'm not quite sure how." He replied stoically. Tommy shook his head and leaned against the table.

Nutpig's grunts broke the silence. The Hoglin toddled around the house, digging into the netherrack, searching for mushrooms growing among the tufts of red grass.

"So, how are the preparations?" The teen spoke up, looking out the window. Nutpig lifted her head and seemed to nod to him in greeting. He smiled and replied with a similar gesture.

"Oh, we'll wipe them off the face of the earth." Well, that was what Techno probably meant by saying that even the Protector Brute wouldn't be able to tear their enemies limbs off if they were facing them with this amount of power.

"Seriously?" Tommy jumped up and looked at his friend with excitement. "You have to show me!"

"Be patient, Rome wasn't built in a day and all that."

"I literally don't know what that means."

"You would know if you could read anything other than headlines and messages on your communicator." Techno shook his head and drummed his fingers on the table top. "I don't want to show it to you now."

Tommy's smile was sly but understanding.

"Want to have a cool reveal moment?"

The Piglin's silence was enough for an answer.

The teenager sat down at the table again, and stretched. Wilbur's tasks were exhausting, from clearing the mines and building tunnels to collecting materials that were either flammable or combined could create something dangerous and explosive.

The vision of war was terrifying, and beneath the teen's apparent show of bravado lurked an uneasiness that gnawed at his soul, biting into his bones and making his heart beat a little faster at times.

He cleared his throat.

"Wilbur isn't doing too well. I sent a letter to my dad to come help us. Usually Wil sends them, but this time I wanted to do it myself. It's not that I don't trust him! He's my brother, of course I know he's trying to do what he thinks is best, but... Maybe sometimes what he thinks is best isn't what's needed.”

He sighed heavily. Technoblade didn't judge him, instead offering space - a silence to fill with his doubts and fears.

“The festival is about to take place and Tubbo is going to play a key role. Schlatt is exploiting him for his own purposes, and I'm beginning to fear that Wilbur will do the same. I don't know, I just wanted peace. Why can't we all be friends?"

"Well, you can always stay here. We can go find a place where it's safe and where conflict is fun, not a matter of life and death. I think you'd be bored without any chaos."

"You know me too well." He smiled teasingly. "Tubbo and I thought the same thing, but we can't ran away."

"Tubbo. He's your friend, the chaotic small one?"

"You'd like him. You're both stubborn." Nutpig grunted loudly outside the window, distracting them for a moment. Tommy shook his head. “I know you regard your privacy as sacred, but I told him about you. I trust him and I know he won't tell anyone." He assured. "I had to explain a bit to him, but I think everything is fine now."

Techno nodded, then tilted his head to the side.

"Well, I doubt your Tubbo could do much harm. It's not like he's about to show up in my yard with axes and start demanding bacon made from Piglins."

"We really need to work on your tone, because deciding whether you're serious or not is sometimes a real challenge." Tommy leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “The bee boy wouldn't do anything to you, even if he can be scary sometimes. I told him we're brothers so..."

He paused as he noticed Techno's ears droop, his tail wagging up and down, and his mouth curved in a grimace that revealed tusks.

"What?"

"We're not brothers." Techno said. His words were muffled by the growl that escaped from his throat. "Wilbur is your brother. I could never be one."

If a panic attack in a cramped room was comparable to drowning in a stormy sea, Techno's words were the world breaking in half and ending right before Tommy's eyes.

Surprise and shock were replaced by a sense of betrayal, and after a few seconds, anger consumed him, burning like fire, consuming everything in its path and turning it to dust.

Tommy was tired. He slept no more than three hours, spent his days following Wilbur's orders and trying to reason with him, and was treated like a helpless child by both his brother and Dream, who seemed to enjoy inciting the general to hate the place he had created. Wilbur began chastising him for insubordination, most likely encouraged by his partner in crime. His arms were covered in Phantoms' bites, and the stress of Tubbo's situation, risking everything he had to fight for a cause he didn't seem to believe in, made the fact that he didn't manifest yet basically a miracle.

All he wanted was peace, and yet he was treated by everyone as if he was the sole source of all problems.

Perhaps if he hadn't felt so alone despite the people around him; if he had learned to control his anger instead of reacting emotionally; perhaps he would have seen the confused look on Techno's face.

Techno, who didn't seem to understand that his words could be hurtful. After all, for him, the word brother meant nothing but being a burden and someone who hurt their loved ones.

"You know what? Fuck you." Tommy growled through clenched teeth. His body stood in a familiar position, one that mirrored how Techno stood whenever what he believed to be a threat approached them.

"Of course we're not brothers. Who would want that, right? Fuck you, I don't need you. I don't need anyone! I can handle myself! You talk bad about Wilbur all the time, when it's not his fault! I should have tried harder! But you won't understand that because you're not human. Wilbur needs me and I need him, because we're brothers and-” His voice broke. "Just, fuck you."

He hit the wall and ran out of the house. Techno followed him, but before he caught up with him, Tommy managed to go through the portal and was long gone.

The festival started not very interesting. Tommy clutched the crossbow in his hand, gritting his teeth as Wilbur put his hand on his shoulder. It had been two days since he had last been in the Nether; all this time he spent barely keeping his nerves in check, bursting with anger every now and then, setting random things on fire and staring at the flames until they began to burn his skin.

Wilbur didn't say a word as one night Tommy caught a Phantom in mid-air, pinned it to the ground, and tore its membrane by hand, cursing at everything and everyone.

"I bet you would win if they let you fight in the ring." The brunette spoke up and nodded towards one of the attractions.

There was a small crowd around said boxing ring. The crowd watched the fighters. Even when Schlatt entered the ring, Wilbur didn't start the frantic monologues that seemed to be becoming commonplace for him.

He looked relieved. Tommy sighed. After all, they both hoped that the festival would end their exile. Deep down, he hoped otherwise and refused to go along with Wilbur's plan, but everything was ultimately in Tubbo's hands.

It was strange to see the general with a sincere smile. Finally, if only for one day, Tommy could see his brother again.

Anger was still bubbling in his veins.

"Well, of course I would win." He replied briefly, frowning as one of the jurors raised the president's hand in victory.

"Well, you're a born fighter, aren't you? You'd make your brother proud, wouldn't you?" Wilbur ruffled his hair. He lowered his hand as he saw Tommy's frown grow deeper.

"Yes. Brother. Right.” The teen hissed through clenched teeth. He shook off his brother's hand and gripped the crossbow even tighter. He nocked the arrow and aimed it at Schlatt's head. He wouldn't have shot, not with Wilbur over his shoulder, making sure he didn't deviate in any way from the plan, but for a moment he could pretend to let the arrow go and imagine it being plunged into the dictator's skull.

He imagined the screams of the festival goers, the widespread panic, people running aimlessly forward, stepping on Schlatt's body, tripping over it, turning it unrecognisable.

He closed his eyes and lowered the crossbow. He turned to Wilbur.

"Tubbo is about to start his speech."

They scrambled over the rooftops of the buildings, carefully stepping from one to the other until they finally reached the podium.

"What about Technoblade?" Wilbur spoke in a half-whisper.

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Wasn't he supposed to help us gather weapons and armor?"

"You yourself told me to stop hanging out with him. I don't want to talk about him now."

They were interrupted by Tubbo, who stuttered, thanking everyone for coming. Niki looked at him with concern. Jack stood to the side, leaning against the wall, looking bored. Fundy looked around nervously, his fingers tightening on his jacket.

Tubbo stood in full view, showing his hybrid features. Quackity leaned back in his chair and smiled lazily, his yellow wings fluttering.

Tommy barely suppressed a cry of surprise as, with words that were a sign to Wilbur regarding Tubbo's decision - permission to destroy L'manburg - the tiles of the podium parted, trapping Tubbo in a cage. The microphone still picked up his voice.

The teenager's rapid breathing and panicked questions for an explanation could be heard over the speakers.

Schlatt stepped forward, his hands tightening on the crossbow with the firework attached to it.

“People of Manburg!” He began with a charismatic grin. “You see, not so long ago we drove two dictators out of this great country! Tyrants, who decided that all power should be theirs. And we were fine! We enjoyed democracy, we could develop and benefit from it!” He spread his arms and straightened up, pushing his chest forward. “However, our enemies still lurk in the shadows. Tubbo was a spy. Did you think you could get away with it? That I won't notice? I know everything that happens here!”

He aimed a crossbow at him. Tubbo stepped back, holding up his hands in hopeless defense.

Tommy broke free towards the edge of the roof, but Wilbur caught him, pinning him against his chest.

"I think it's time to show what happens to traitors."

The man's smile was sharp and maniacal. Quackity spread his wings and shook his head.

"Hey, that's not what we agreed on. You were supposed to scare him a little, man."

“Nah, that would only show how weak we are. Stop being a pussy and get out of my way." Schlatt snorted. Quackity took a step towards the cage just as Schlatt fired.

The explosion was loud and colorful. Red sparks flew through the air, blinding those closest to them. Tommy broke free from Wilbur's embrace. He pushed him away when he tried to grab him again and hit his jaw with his elbow.

As he ran, he threw an ender pearl at the stage and knocked Schlatt to the ground as he materialized right above the man.

He looked at Quackity, who stared dazedly at the crossbow laying on the ground. Some of his feathers were charred.

Tommy gritted his teeth and grabbed Tubbo, who grabbed him by the neck and groaned in pain. He glanced up at the roof, nervously watching Wilbur's absence. He shook his head, hugged Tubbo even tighter, and threw another pearl, landing right at the edge of the forest.

"Can you walk?" He asked hopefully. Tubbo looked like he hadn't heard the question, but nodded anyway. Tommy helped him lean against him, and together they started toward Pogtopia, much slower than what would be safe.

They had gone halfway when Tubbo started feeling exhausted. Tommy helped him to sit by a tree, glaring at his wounds.

Tubbo's face was burned - there were spots in several places where the skin seemed to melt. His right arm was burned - the sleeve of his jacket was smoldering, and the shirt was clinging to his skin in a way that suggested that patches of skin would be torn off with it when removed. Tubbo's right ear was torn.

A cosmos of emotions - all at once, every single one; happiness and relief that he was alive, sadness, anger, fright; and at the same time a void, which seemed to grow inside his chest. Tommy brushed back his friend's bangs with trembling hands, swallowing hard as he saw that Tubbo's right eye socket was empty.

He clenched his teeth on his tongue, holding back tears.

"Is it that bad? Will I have to give up my modeling career?” Tubbo's lips moved unnaturally. Each word caused him obvious pain, but he managed a faint smile.

"No, you look even more badass. I may have to compete with you for women now. You won't be able to get away from them."

"Just don't get too jealous. I promise I love you more than any woman."

"Bros before hoes?"

"Tommy, stop being sexist."

The blond shook his head. He took a few deep breaths and listened.

Footsteps too light to be a soldier's, too fluid to be an armored person. Too human, so it was probably not one of the hybrids.

When Niki appeared from the trees, Tommy smiled with relief. The woman ran over to them, raising her hands.

"I'm on your side!" She promised. She covered her mouth with her hand as she saw Tubbo's condition.

"Hey Niki, good to see you." The brunette greeted, flicking his left ear.

"Oh my..." Tears glistened in her eyes. "Tubbo, you're in shock. We have to get you to a safe place."

"Pogtopia." Tommy said, picking up his friend. He grabbed him by one arm. Niki joined in, taking some of the boy's weight on herself.

She raised her head proudly.

"We can do it. Us against the world." She promised.

Kindness was a funny thing. Tommy didn't understand it as much as he wanted to. Loyalty was simple, and so was devotion. Niki seemed to possess this secret knowledge, how to understand kindness; how to be kind. It was present in every loaf of bread she gave away, in every cake she allowed to be stolen. In picnics, late-night conversations with friends, offering safe space to Wilbur.

In many ways, like Tommy, she loved without reason.

So her disconnection from Manburg was obvious, and yet Tommy didn't understand how easily she threw it away.

"What if they burn down your bakery?"

Niki smiled.

"We'll build a new one." She replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

Tubbo groaned in pain.

“But I like the old bakery. If they burn it down, we will commit war crimes to avenge it."

“I think Niki's anger would be enough. All our enemies would surrender at once."

"What are you talking about? It doesn't sound very realistic." She interjected with a smile. Both boys looked at each other confidently.

"I saw you angry once. Never again."

"I value my life." Tubbo added. Niki narrowed her eyes.

They finally made it to Pogtopia. Descending into the ravine was a challenge, but Tubbo was stubborn.

Tommy went for the bandages, tossing them to Niki as soon as he found them. The woman wasted no time and immediately started dressing Tubbo's wounds, having previously soaked the material with potions.

"I thought they might come in handy." She remarked, carefully tending to Tubbo's wounds.

"You're the only person ever." Tommy replied, collapsing onto the mattress. His hands were shaking, and he began mindlessly plucking at the necklace. He twirled the beads in his fingers and tapped his foot on the ground.

Wilbur burst into Pogtopia, wild-eyed and disheveled.

"I couldn't find it." He mumbled, pacing around. Tommy got up and stepped forward.

"What?" He demanded. His brother tugged on his beanie and began to mumble.

"The button!" He screamed at last, sounding desperate.

Like a strained guitar string, Tommy snapped. The surge of anger accumulated by all the events was overwhelming.

"Tubbo could have died! Schlatt nearly killed him! And you were ready to just stand there and watch it!"

"Tommy-"

"Don't Tommy me now! I'm really trying! I want to help you, you know I would never betray you or leave you, but fuck! Tubbo is a person! I am a person! Niki, Fundy - all the people of L'manburg! And all you care about is destroying it all!"

Niki stared at them in horror and confusion.

Wilbur smiled.

"Do you feel better? It's nice to let it go, isn't it? You're angry with me, aren't you?" He opened his arms as if for a hug. "Hit me, I know you want it. Come on, aren't you tired of everyone using you? Don't you want to go get Techno and leave it all behind? Unless even he finally got bored of you." He whispered the last sentence. And although the words were quiet and soft, Tommy felt them like a slap to his cheek, stinging and full of injustice.

He pushed Wilbur away and shook his head.

"Fuck off."

He walked towards one of the corridors in absolute silence.

He crouched against the wall and hid his face between his knees. He was breathing hard; Atlas, weighed down by the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Slow steps, hesitant and light, approached him. As Wilbur knelt in front of him, Tommy didn't look up. He closed his eyes and forced himself to catch his breath. The murmur and the sound of crumpled material - the brunette sat down on the dusty ground right in front of him, breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

And what could his words be worth if it was only a momentary flash of clarity? Tommy didn't know how soon to expect reproaches and crazy whispers. And yet, like a moth to a lamp, the boy leaned towards the familiar warmth.

Perhaps it was because Wilbur found it increasingly difficult to live in harmony with reality; because it became increasingly difficult to control his paranoia and remember what had been important to him not so long ago, that made these moments so significant.

No one else would understand. This was the real Wilbur - the caring older brother who called Tommy an idiot, teased and took his favorite sweets from his secret stash - not the hate-filled madman who wandered the mine corridors, leaving behind buds of his smoked cigarettes like abandoned dreams.

"I know." Tommy answered, because despite his anger, hate wasn't something he was really capable of.

"I'm afraid that you'll leave me. That you'll finally realize that you deserve better." Tommy was silent, letting him speak. Wilbur took a deep breath. “Dream told me. You were going to run away and I couldn't- I need you. I know I shouldn't but I do.”

“Wilbur, we wouldn't-”

“You wouldn't, because of L'manburg. Not because of me. You were ready to leave me behind. Just like everyone does.” Wilbur was shaking his head. He clenched his fingers on his dorearms, nails digging into skin, leaving marks. “I don't blame you, I know I'm not well. I know I'm a disappointment. Even our father wouldn't stay for me, why would anyone else?”

“Wil, you're talking nonsense. Dad loves you. He-”

“He will never come, and you need to stop lying to yourself. If he ever cared, he hasn't for a damn long time now. But maybe he could love you. You're similar.”

The words that any other day would've brought Tommy joy and happiness felt like a slap. He shook his head.

“Wilbur, I swear I care about you.” He promised, but didn't move closer. Wilbur pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You shouldn't. You should hate me.”

“Wil, why would I? You're my family. You're my idiot, even if you're dumb sometimes.”

Wilbur closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he took his beanie off.

Tommy's heart stopped at the sight of ram horns curling around fluffy ears. Wilbur was on his knees, his lip trembling.

“How can you love me when I am a monster no better than Schlatt?” He spat, voice filled with grief and remorse. Tommy felt a lump in his throat. He was focused on the hybrid traits, feeling bile building up in his throat.

Wilbur looked at him, pleading.

“See? How can you love me when I'm a reflection of someone so vile? A shadow of a tyrant?”

Tommy lunged at him, hugging him closely.

“I told you this many times, and I will tell you this again and again, until you get it into your thick fucking skull. Nothing would ever make me leave you. I love you, no matter if you have horns, wings or tusks. You're not a monster.”

“Then who am I?”

“My brother.”

Wilbur wailed, burying his face into Tommy's chest, crying for what could've been, for what was lost and for what was to come.

Tommy took a shaky breath.

“I'm not like dad. I promise you, with all my heart, if I ever get wings, I will be the one to cut them off right after.”

Techno looked at the portal, feeling anxiety. Nutpig nudged at his hand. He pressed it to her forehead, petting it absentmindedly.

“I don’t know what I said wrong.” He admitted, looking at the Hoglin. She had no answers.

Tommy just ran away, and Techno was too slow to catch him. He shook his head.

“He needs me.” He explained to the creature, who blinked at him. For a Hoglin, Nutpig seemed intelligent. Maybe she was just as loyal as her human and piglin friends. She nudged him again, harder.

Techno snorted and dug his heel into the ground.

Tommy needed him, and was in a state when he shouldn't be alone. He needed comfort and explanation.

“I hate miscommunication.” Groaned Techno. His tail swung sadly. “What made him so angry?”

Nutpig didn't answer. The Piglin snorted again.

The war was something he didn't want Tommy to get caught in, but it seemed that his choices didn't matter at all.

With the dictator roaming around, having mercenaries just like the one that hurt Wilbur – or at least Tommy told him so, he didn't see the injury himself – it was dangerous to run away filled with emotions, not thinking clearly.

He didn't want Tommy to be hurt just because they clearly didn't understand what they had in mind.

Perhaps he should've known that interrupting him was a bad idea, not when brotherhood, somehow, for a reason that was impossible to explain, seemed to be really important to the teen. Not when Techno noticed that his runt had growing trouble with controlling his emotions, letting anger get the best of him.

“I will be right back.” He promised. The Hoglin looked disappointed and nudged him yet again. Techno stroke her back, and pet her for a bit. “You're getting clingy.” He murmured with amusement.

Then he went through the portal, leaving the animal behind, waiting for his return.

The Overworld was much colder than he remembered. He was inside a raviene, a big cave with lamps and wooden elements all over it.

A shiver ran across his back, making his fur stand up. His ears reacted to every little sound. Yet, the place seemed empty.

He explored it, carefully avoiding anything that looked dangerous. He found a red stick that reeked of gunpowder. He threw it away, snorting and sqealing.

A staircase. Tommy had to be outside.

Techno followed the steps, coming outdise the cave. The sun had set, and the sky was filled with stars. He looked at it, marvelling at it beauty. Never before had he seen something so dark yet filled with light.

He skook his head, trying to focus. It was getting harder to do so.

Rot started climbing up his arm, slowly exposing the bones. It didn't hurt; instead, it felt numb, weird.

He went through the forest, calling Tommy. After some time, forming human words became harder and harder.

He stomped on the ground and made panicked squeals, but noone answered.

He had to find Tommy. He had to find-

He shook his head, once again trying to focus. He was searching for someone important. Or was it something?

Did he lose something?

He started walking inbetween the trees, looking at the green that was surrounding him.

He had to-

The rot covered his chest and came up to his neck. His fur was falling off, his whole body falling apart.

The soul sand. Blue flames. Piglins infected with rot, wandering aimlessly through the wastelands.

Whatever he was searching for, he didn't find it. His last thought was that he lost something important while looking for it.

Then he saw a smile on a white surface nearby, observing him.

And then the Piglin walked, losing Technoblade behind, and it was him no more.

Chapter Text

A few weeks earlier, going back to being totally dependent on Wilbur would have been easier, but Tommy had had time to see just how unhealthy it was, which made it harder for him to fully trust his brother to make the right decisions.

Perhaps this was evident most in the fact that he was more willing to express his opinion, and especially to oppose Wilbur's decision to blow up L'manburg.

The following days passed monotonously - the Festival seemed to change everything and nothing at the same time. Tubbo spent most of his time in a room made especially for him in one of the dead-ended mine corridors.

Tommy needed something to distract himself with; from his friend's wounds, the mental agony his brother was in, and Niki's confusion at how quickly their situation had become so dire.

So he dragged the piles of wood, ramming them into a wall that would give Tubbo more privacy. It didn't change the fact that Tommy spent every moment he wasn't around Wilbur with his best friend.

Finally, Niki dragged him outside in search of food, tired of the constant darkness of the ravine.

She caught fish, while Tommy gathered herbs.

His thoughts wandered around many topics, running like striders on lava, without a clear purpose and without end.

The promise to cut off the wings he might've received in the future seemed different than the ones he had made before. Final, irreversible. The fear he felt at the thought of having forgotten his father's voice, and that his face was also one of those memories that had been blurred by time, was overpowering. So he pushed the bitter feeling that had begun to accompany the faded memories - ones that were filled with black feathers - down, deep inside himself, trying in panic to hold onto hope that the situation wasn't what it seemed to be.

He desperately escaped the thought, promising himself that their father loved them, that he hadn't left them without a reason; that even after so many years, if they met him again, their relationship would be perfect, as if that long gap had never happened. Belief that they would just start from where they left on was comforting.

He was also tormented by the thought that he had let his anger out at Techno's expense. The Piglin didn't seem to want to hurt him, he mostly seemed confused. Tommy bit his lip nervously at the thought of how quickly he had gotten carried away with his emotions.

It was something alien and unpleasant - his emotions seemed like a geyser, exploding suddenly and unexpectedly, flooding everything around, and not necessarily destroying things, but still hurting.

He was also thinking about his friend.

Tubbo was resting, sleeping more than not, which was probably good for him, given their lack of painkillers, which his friend most certainly needed.

Tommy knew his friend was trying to stay optimistic - it was evident in the jokes about his manly scars; about him being a bigger man than Tommy himself; in planning to get a glass eye that would be so awesome that everyone would like to have their real ones gouged out, so they could get to the same level of awesomeness as Tubbo.

Yet his hands have not stopped shaking since the day of the festival. As he worked quietly on his inventions, he cursed under his breath, rubbing redstone into the bandages and dropping his ears low. He couldn't thread a needle by himself or sweeten his tea without spilling sugar on the table.

And despite the optimism, despite the jokes and postponing acceptance of the new reality, when Tommy came one night to the part of the corridor that had been converted into a room for Tubbo, his friend tightened his hands on the sheets and admitted how helpless he felt.

"My hands haven't stopped shaking since Schlatt fired that damn firework." The sheets were crumpled, dirty with redstone, coal and dust. His hands, squeezing it like a lifebuoy as if that grip would save him from drowning, were wrapped in bandages, and the bare skin glistened with the healing creams Niki had rubbed into it.

Tubbo wasn't one to admit his weaknesses. The feeling of helplessness was dangerous, especially for someone who was used to being a soldier.

A stab of guilt—a soldier, while only sixteen. A teenager with injuries that would follow him for the rest of his life.

Tommy grabbed his hand but didn't say a word.

He couldn't justify their situation; explain with a joke that the scars adorning his friend's body would make him more attractive; take away from them the knowledge that he would never be able to go into the details of his inventions with ease, without getting irritated that the trembling of his hands would make it difficult for him to stretch the wires or redstone accordingly.

Once again since the day of the Festival, Tommy felt speechless, pretending not to feel the bile building up in his throat as the thought crossed his mind that some days Tubbo wouldn't be able to stand in front of the mirror without feeling disgusted by his body - it happened to him after all, and his scar from the duel with Dream was hidden under layers of clothes.

Yet every thought of the arrow in his shoulder didn't make him feel like a hero. Instead, he felt as if his scar was visible, and people looked at him as if he were some kind of extraordinary phenomenon. A creature in a zoo.

When Niki called him to the river, and he ran to her, gracefully shaking off his thoughts, he ignored the stubborn one, that stood behind him every moment - how was he supposed to live in peace when it came, if he had never really known it? His life has always had a purpose, set by Wilbur.

All he could hope for was that his brother would give him one when Pogtopia would become a bad memory to be joked about around the campfire on warm evenings.

Niki seemed to know that it was getting easier and easier for him to get lost in his thoughts, drowning in them like in the ocean. She handed him the fishing rod and stretched, trying to suppress a yawn.

"Soon I'll be built like a shrimp with the way I bend over. I need to exercise more." She said with amusement, straightening up so much that something in her back cracked. Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Being built like a shrimp is the best thing that can happen to you. Are you shrimpphobic, Niki? I didn't know you from this side."

The woman shook her head and started picking up the fish scattered on the ground. Tommy gripped the rod tighter as he felt a gentle tug.

As a clump of seaweed emerged from between the waves, he sighed dramatically.

"It's not fair, the fish just like you."

"Aw, Tommy, I'm sure you're good at something too." The basket she had woven a few days earlier was filled with salmon. A few of them were still twitching, opening and closing their mouths.

"Well, if we were in the Nether, I could do a lot of things better than you. Although no, wait, you're scary. I mean cool.” He corrected himself quickly at her questioning look. "The point is, you could do well too, but I think I could be better than you."

“In surviving... In the Nether? In a lava-filled dimension that the ancients spoke of as a place that devours the souls of travelers?"

"It's just because of the soul sand myths." Tommy said without much thought. He tossed his fishing rod aside, refusing to help with the fishing. Instead, he gathered the herbs he had laid out on the grass, scanning them for insects. “Anyway, the Nether is underrated. If you know what you're doing, it's a really lovely place.”

"I think we have a different definition of the word lovely."

Tommy snorted but said nothing. The cool breeze gave him goosebumps. In passing, he thought of the warmth of the Nether - of the lava enveloping everything, of the smoke rising from the fire-filled gorges. He thought about the blankets and furs in Technoblade's den-

"Tommy?"

"Sorry Niki, you're the only one ever, I swear."

Her eyebrows were raised and her forehead was furrowed. Her gaze softened, as if she'd seen something Tommy hadn't fully realized yet.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about." He assured her. He suppressed the feeling of anger that began to grow inside him - he didn't know why.

It was getting easier for him to be angry. He was beginning to miss other emotions. The anger was exhausting.

"Okay." Niki said as she gathered up their things and headed towards Pogtopia.

Tommy followed her, ignoring how deafening the silence seemed to be around them.

Between spending time with Wilbur, whose moods fluctuated from tearful apologies for his behavior to paranoid whispers to Tommy that they had only themselves to rely on, and searching for food and herbs, Tommy began to feel a strange stab in his heart, a pattern of pure anxiety.

"Tommy, boss man, you're basically walking on walls*. What's wrong?" Tubbo rested his chin against his clenched fist. If his right eyebrow hadn't been burnt in the blast, he probably would have raised it appraisingly.

Tommy let out a long groan and sighed, falling dramatically against the wall.

"I have no fucking clue!" He lifted his hands and ran them over his face. "I just-"

"Maybe you need to go to the Nether?" The brunette suggested, sounding like it was an obvious solution. Tommy turned slowly towards him.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in experience, you've always spent a lot of time there - after all, didn't you tell me about your Piglin brother yourself? You know, not long after we discussed running away?"

"Shush! Not so loud!" Tommy barked nervously, throwing his hands up and looking around. Pogtopia was empty - Wilbur was avoiding Niki because she was the one who was most likely to reason with him, and Niki was trying to find him. It was a bit comical to see his older brother sneaking around like an unruly teenager, trying to avoid his friend's disappointed gaze at all costs.

Tubbo raised an eyebrow definitively, it was evident in the slight movement of his bandages. Tommy huffed without conviction.

"We argued." He simply said. His friend gave him a look that was clearly meant to let him know he has to give him more information. Tommy groaned desperately. "I lost my temper after he fucking said we weren't brothers!"

"Oh. It's... It's a good reason to feel upset."

Tommy closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. The growing sense of irritation seemed to burn him from the inside out, like fire, ready to explode.

"Perhaps we should visit him and talk calmly? I can be your arbiter!"

"An arbiter?"

“An outsider who would monitor your discussion and help you come to an agreement! I could help you explain everything to each other and make sure you don't loose your temper again." He explained, jumping out of bed, excited at the prospect of doing something more interesting than wandering around an abandoned mine changing bandages every few hours.

"You don't even know him."

"But I know you, and if your Piglin makes you happy - and I know he does, I've seen you talk about him - then I want to help! Boss man, is it really worth throwing away so many years of friendship over one misunderstanding?"

"Well, maybe there are misunderstandings that are a good reason to stop being fr-"

"Tommy. Look at me, boss man. I'm your best friend. I know you. And I know you wouldn't forgive yourself if you lost something so precious just because you got carried away with your emotions."

"In theory, I lost my discs because I got carried away with my emotions, and I'm fine with that."

"We both know those discs mean nothing compared to the people you hold dear."

Tommy looked at him, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Tubbo was right about a lot of things - especially when it came to how Tommy felt about his friends.

He was able to forgive all the harm done to himself, but the moment someone hurt his loved ones, he didn't see a way to easily forgive. Hatered seemed to hold him in its grip as he thought that one of his loved ones might have been hurt in any way.

That's why he hated Schlatt - for hurting Wilbur, for getting him to the point where the person he used to be was irretrievably shattered into a thousand pieces, unable to be put back together the same way he had been before. An irreversible change, the consequences of which Tommy feared.

For hurting Tubbo, for taking away his normal life, for cornering him and attempting a public execution.

That's why he hated Dream, who hurt every person Tommy cared about.

That's why he still couldn't see a future where he could forgive Eret and return to the friendship she had previously so shamelessly exploited.

Tommy held his grudges; not for himself, but for his loved ones.

And maybe because his friends meant so much to him, it was even harder for him to imagine ruthlessly cutting himself off from them over a single argument, whether trivial or serious.

He got up and walked out into the corridor, glancing conspiratorially from side to side. Tubbo stood behind him, leaning out to get a better view.

They sneaked into the portal together. Tubbo hesitantly joined Tommy and stood with him in the frame, swallowing nervously as the matter filling it engulfed his body.

He descended to the netherrack and doubled over, taking several deep breaths. Nausea was a common side effect of dimensional travel, and physical injuries only made it worse.

Tommy helped him to a red tree with pulsing bark and sphores flying around it. Tubbo began to breathe heavily, opening his mouth and letting the disturbingly watery saliva drip onto the heated stones. He finally straightened up, looking around.

"I hate the Nether."

"You just have to get used to it." Tommy assured him, looking amazing and strangely in place, like a missing puzzle piece finally found. He wasn't tired of jumping into another dimension, feeling sick after the journey; he didn't even mind the steamy air, which made Tubbo sweat all over the place - especially from being wrapped in an extra layer of material in the form of bandages.

Tommy took a confident step forward, dragging Tubbo, who was feeling more and more miserable by the moment.

He didn't expect to find himself in front of a house built into the canyon wall. The hut seemed cozy, made of Overworld wood with a gleaming orange surface that Tubbo quickly identified as varnish mixed with a fireproofing potion.

"Woah." He panted, smiling nervously at the pure joy on his friend's face.

He squeezed his hand as a squeal sounded from the side of the hut, and then a giant Hoglin strode towards them.

Tommy, instead of running away, pulled Tubbo towards it.

"Nutpig! How are you, girl?” He began to scratch her with his free hand between the eyes, to which the monster reacted with joyful chuffing.

Tubbo felt his world turn upside down.

The beast that could kill them both with a flick of its tusks was fawning over Tommy like an attention-seeking kitten.

The brunet was sure that he was beginning to see his friend in a new light. He just wasn't sure what kind, because aside from appreciation, he felt pure horror at the fact that Tommy seemed to be made for the Nether.

"That's Tubbo! My best friend. Of course Tubbo will pet you too!"

"I'm not sure Tubbo wants to pet her." Tubbo said, looking anxiously at the huge muzzle that turned its attention towards him.

"Come on, big T, look at her. Isn't she adorable?"

"Lethally." He squealed with an emotion that must have been pure terror, as the Hoglin strode toward him. But instead of eating him alive, the creature slid under his hand, waiting patiently to be greeted by a stroke on its back.

The teenager did it very hesitantly, but when Holgin didn't change her mind and didn't decide to make a feast out of his intestines, he gained some courage. He patted her side, watching in fascination as she pulled away and went back to digging around in the ground, desperately searching for something.

"Techno leaves the door open because no one wants to come near when Nutpig is in the yard."

"I can imagine why." The brunette said weakly, obediently following Tommy.

The blonde let him in and started looking around the apartment. Tubbo sat down at the table, admiring the interior with fascination. It looked like a typical house, not the Piglin Pit he had imagined.

In his imagination, Technoblade was to only have a room for his hoard and a place for the skins and bones of its enemies in some random cave. He hadn't expected cupboards with small knick knacks or bookshelves.

Tommy entered the room with a displeased expression on his face. His hands were twitching, and his ears were red, either with anger or with shame.

He furrowed his brows and started breathing heavily

"He's not here."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not here. He had left his things, the den hadn't been touched for at least a week, maybe longer. Maybe even since the last time I was here."

Tubbo stood up, hovering beside his friend, not quite sure what to do. Tommy sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands.

"He went away. Of course. Wilbur was right."

"Boss man, you don't know that for sure."

"Tubbo, look around. If he cared, he'd be here."

"Maybe he went for a walk? Maybe he's hunting? Or getting resources?"

“He would've left a note. He always does that so I know where he is. And, he didn't take anything with him."

"Since he didn't take anything with him, it's only logical that he'll be back in a moment?"

Tommy shook his head.

"No. When we moved from the old house, he didn't take anything with him either, except for the things he happened to have on him. Nutpig trough wasn't filled. There is dust everywhere. The food started to rot. Tubbo, he just left."

The brunette hugged him, ignoring the stab of pain as Tommy touched his body, slowly wrapping his arms around him. The blond wasn't crying, but his tone of voice betrayed enough about how devastated he was.

They returned to Pogtopia in silence. Wilbur sat on the mattress by the fire, turning toward the sound of the portal. Tommy had his head down and was trailing behind Tubbo.

The general opened his mouth, a shadow of pure fury crossed his face, but it quickly gave way to concern.

"Tommy? Tubbo? What were you doing-"

“You don't have to worry about my trips to Techno anymore. He left."

Wilbur stared at them in disbelief. And for a moment, Tubbo hoped Tommy's brother would speak up and reassure him that it was just a misunderstanding.

However, he said nothing. Instead, he walked over to the boys and hugged the blonde.

"Don't worry Tommy. You're not alone. You see? I told you, we can only count on each other."

Tubbo felt that his words were worse than silence would've been.

Tommy needed time to sort out all his thoughts. So, he decided the best solution would be to leave Pogtopia and focus on something productive - spying on Schlatt to know his next move.

Without Techno's help, provisions were running low, and the rebellion's chances seemed slim due to the lack of weapons and armor. A no-win situation where the only certainty was defeat.

With the lack of spies in L'manburg came the problem of organizing the next move--while Tommy was happy to be sure of Tubbo's safety, he knew that it meant sacrificing their cause.

No one else was close enough to Schlatt to peer into the confidential documents and get the information they needed.

And yet.

Tommy watched the argument unfold in front of him with an interest that grew with every second.

Quackity had his arm wrapped in bandages and was gesticulating wildly. Schlatt seemed to answer him nonchalantly, ignoring his vice's growing fury.

He hit the wall of the white house with his pickaxe, then leaned against the wall right next to the created crack and sneered, pricking his ears and barking something at the avian.

Quacky's yellow wings puffed out. Tommy frowned at the clipped feathers. Their ends were not arranged in a characteristic, sharpened way, but crooked and jagged.

In his concentration on the man's wings, Tommy didn't notice the man draw his bow and point it at the president, who was gesticulating wildly. Even without words, it was easy to recognize that Schlatt was mocking him, most likely in a humiliating way.

Quacky gritted his teeth and shot. Tommy returned to the world of the living, staring in disbelief as the loud scream tore from the dictator's throat.

He slid down the tiles onto the balcony, then jumped onto the roof of the next building. His eyes followed Quackity, who was heading in obvious panic towards the forest - as far away as possible from the enraged president who was shouting after him.

"-on't need anyone!"  Tommy heard him yell out, before he was far from Manburg.

He grabbed a branch that broke under his weight. Then, he landed right in front of Quackity, who was panting heavily, his hands on his thighs. Running with wings must've been extremely unpleasant - avians were made for flying, not for a marathon.

"What do you want, Tommy?"

"Woah, no hi? No, excuse me for being a total asshole? No oh, I'm sorry I gave your friend a death sentence?"

"I didn't know that fucking lunatic was going to hurt Tubbo! I thought he was going to arrest him!" Quacky raised his hands high. His wings, still puffed, drooped low. "What do you want, my execution? Because if you're counting on holding me hostage, I have bad news for you, man. Schlatt fucked me over as well as he did you guys."

Tommy's gaze wandered to the clipped wings again. Then he looked at the entire self of his opponent. Shirt crumpled, waistcoat unbuttoned, tie hanging loosely around his neck. Purple circles under the eyes, a hand not yet healed from the burns left by the rocket.

"Are you okay, Big Q?"

The brunette's gaze softened. He looked surprised by the question. He stammered, taking a step back. He stared at Tommy as if looking for a catch.

He sighed.

“I want to help you. I know you don't trust me, I know I fucked up. But I want to be useful. I don't want to be just a decoration. I will do anything. I'm on your side now."

Tommy... Tommy was more tired of the constant distrust and paranoia than he realized. He hated pity, but maybe that was what kept him from knocking Quackity to the ground and tying him up for Schlatt's men to find him.

He missed making pranks, running a fun illegal business, hearing how to take care of the wings and helping Quackity do it.

He missed summer nights on the grass, pushing Fundy into the water, planning constructions with Jack Manifold while making fun of his baldness, spending time with Sam, who seemed to fill a certain place in his life that neither Wilbur, neither Techno, nor Tubbo, nor any other friend that Tommy had fit in.

He missed watching Sapnap, plodding miserably after his father, repairing the damage he had done, acting like a teenager caught in the act rather than a ruthless soldier with blood that could poison everything around him.

"Okay." He said, extending his hand to the brunette.

Quackity breathed a sigh of relief and squeezed it. They both jumped at the sound of branches being stepped on.

"We shouldn't stay here."

"Agree. Totally agree. Golden words, truly." Quacki confirmed.

They were in a part of the forest that Tommy didn't recognize. So they set off, wandering through the trees, hoping to find a way out.

Quackity pointed toward a tunnel in the side of a cliff. Tommy recalled vaguely that Tubbo had intended to dig a tunnel to Pogtopia as a way to travel more safely during their meetings.

The Avian came in first, squinting and scowling. The tight spaces made both of them uncomfortable. Tommy was incredibly relieved to see the dim light of the lamp at the end of the narrow corridor.

However, instead of the familiar mine, they burst into a room decked out in dynamite.

Wilbur froze in place, staring at them in disbelief.

"Holy fuck, man." Quackity cursed. He looked around the room, anxiously staring at the dynamite stored in it.

Tommy stared at the wall, his throat closing in a strange way at the sight of the anthem scrawled on the walls. He leaned against a stone by the entrance, feeling dizzy. His hands were shaking.

For a moment he didn't hear Wilbur and Quacky arguing.

He shook himself - he had to, because the button on the wall where Wilbur was standing seemed to have only one purpose. He forced himself to suppress his overwhelming fear and approached the men.

Wilbur hesitated, eyeing his younger brother with panic and uncertainty.

"What is this?"

"This is The Final Control Room." Wilbur said slowly, backing up to the button. The three of them looked around the room, at the sticks of dynamite scattered on the floor. "You shouldn't be here."

"What does this button do, Wilbur?" Quackity asked, moving closer to him. The general shook his head and smiled.

“This button is connected to so much TnT that there will be nothing left. Nothing but a smoking hole in the ground." His hands were shaking, hovering near the detonator. The man looked mad, terrifying. He almost didn’t seem human.

Tommy moved, clenching his teeth.

"Wilbur, step away from that button."

"Oh yeah? What's your plan? What other option do we have, Tommy? We're alone. Nobody will help us. Either we slowly starve to death, or Schlatt will finish us off. We have no allies, we have no weapons." His hand hovered over the button. "This? THAT is the solution.”

Tommy swallowed hard. Quackity looked at him, shaking his head.

"And what next? What happens when you press it? What after the explosion?"

Wilbur hesitated, avoiding his gaze.

“You have to go. I'll push it, and it'll be over. You will... Tommy, you'll be able to build a farm with Tubbo. There will be no L'manburg, Manburg - There will be no Pogtopia. You can start over!”

"What about you?" Stubbornness, a trait that Tommy had instilled in himself, in his character, that made him persevere because he couldn't afford to fail; he hoped it was enough to find a way out of the situation.

His brother was quiet.

"Tommy." The brunette then turned to his former enemy. "Quackity. You have to go. When I push that button this room will explode alongside L'manburg."

Quackity yelled, trying to force Wilbur away from the detonator.

Tommy stayed where he was. His world froze as the realisation hit him.

There were moments in life that seemed endless. Ones that had no way out, ones that seemed to lead to tragedy, regardless of the efforts undertaken.

That moment was worse than holding Wilbur, who was wailing in despair, trying to coerce Tommy into helping him break of his horns.

It was worse than realising how big the amount of self hatered his brother held really was.

Tommy's world was small. It was limited to those closest to him, and always based on Wilbur.

The big brother who was always around. Tommy could spend his days with friends or hang out in the Nether for hours, but Wilbur has always been a constant in his life.

Unchanging, eternal. He couldn't imagine a world where his brother wasn't waiting for him.

He's been around all his life. He was his home, his refuge. On sleepless nights, on days when he missed something he never had.

Niki thought he was his father, and though Tommy didn't see him that way - he'd always been his big brother, a role model, a person who was strong, whose words that he was proud meant more than any riches - he could understand.

Wilbur taught him to read and write, told him stories about Allays who traded his first teeth for candy he found under his pillow; Wilbur researched the Nether to make sure Tommy was safe there; Wilbur had taught him how to fish and make potions, and he was always there, no matter how bad his health started to get.

And at one point, as Tommy thought about who he trusted the most, Phil's face was slowly replaced with Wilbur's.

It was his gentle gaze that he remembered best. Brown eyes filled with concern and warmth. His laugh, high-pitched and unique, was the laugh he remembered from his childhood.

And through thousands of hard, bad days, he remembered thousands of good ones, when he felt safe, when Wilbur was his world.

And the thought that it might all be gone someday, that his brother wouldn't be that constant certainty in his life, seemed impossible.

Because a world without Wilbur simply didn't exist.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Tommy moved the boulder to block the way out. He sat down on the ground, huddling against the wall.

Despite hundreds of emotions tormenting his heart, he felt empty. Tired.

"Tommy? What are you doing?” His brother's voice trembled. Tommy buried his head between his knees.

"If you blow it up, I'm going down with you."

"What?"

“Press the button. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here."

"Tommy, no. It's- You gotta-" Wilbur stuttered, trying to collect his thoughts. He looked panicked, looking pleadingly at Quackity, who busied himself collecting the sticks of dynamite from the ground.

“Techno left me. Without you, I'll be completely alone." Because Wilbur was the only family he had. Because he wasn't sure if he could find the person who could fill the hole left by the thought of being abandoned by Phil and Techno, and which would destroy his whole world with Wilbur leaving too.

"Tommy."

“If that's what you want, blow it all up. But don't leave me alone." Begging, like praying to a god. But Wilbur was human, not an all-knowing, impartial being. He knelt in front of Tommy and sighed heavily.

He glanced at Quackity, who was glancing nervously at the button.

"Okay. Let's try to get L'manburg back. We'll go to battle. We'll do it together." He promised, the last olive branch he was to offer.

Tommy nodded, looking at Quackity gratefully. The brunet seemed out of place, not fully realizing how important role he played - their ultimate spy, a person who had enough information to know Schlatt's weaknesses and help them to victory.

"Let's get out of here. This place gives me the chills.”

"True. Wilbur, you're a dramatic bitch."

"Oh, shut up, gremlin. Your insults would mean something if I didn't see you eating cookies from the dumpster outside Niki's bakery."

"It was a long time ago and it's not my fault she threw away good food."

"There was mold on them-"

The three of them walked off towards Pogtopia, bantering and joking. Neither Quackity nor Tommy saw Wilbur glance in the direction of the detonator one last time.

Planning with Quackity on their side turned out to be easy. As Schlatt's right-hand man, he knew the location of weapons, allies, enemies, and all other useful information.

There was the issue of the lack of equipment, and Wilbur, despite Tommy's best efforts to distract him, became increasingly nervous.

This was not helped by the statement issued by the dictator, who announced that on November sixteenth they were to prepare for the final attack - he laughed at them, claiming that he was announcing the date of their public execution so that they would have any chance to defend themselves.

He was right in his mocking statement - the members of the rebellion were completely defenseless against the military force of Manburg.

Tommy sank down onto the mattresses, massaging his temples.

Wilbur paced around, murmuring nervously. Niki leaned against the wall and watched the rest of her companions with half-closed eyes. Tubbo played with a thread sticking out of the blanket, and Quackity tried to preen his feathers.

The maps spread out in front of them didn't seem like much. Despite knowing Schlatt's weaknesses, they had no chance without weapons.

"This rebellion will fall." Quackity mumbled miserably, shaking his head.

Tommy gave Wilbur a sharp look as he opened his mouth to suggest his plan. The general glanced at his younger brother and quickly went back to muttering under his breath as he continued his pace around the room.

Heavy footsteps on the stairs leading to Pogtopia completely silenced all participants of the meeting.

A Piglin Brute, clad in netherite, with a crown on his head and two necklaces around his neck - one with two beads of different colors and the other with a whole lot of white ones - stood in the doorway, looking extremely awkward for someone who wielded an ax with a blade made of pure netherite, shining with enchantments.

"Did somebody say rebellion?" He asked in human language, laughing loudly at the screams of disbelief he evoked.

Tommy froze in place, staring at him in disbelief. For although he recognized Technoblade as he always would - after all, he knew him better than himself - one detail caught his attention and took his breath away.

Techno's eyes, whose familiar whiteness seemed to be as certain as the skeletons in Soul Sand Valley, now had pupils and blue irises, similar to Tommy's.

The Piglin smiled and held out his hand in a greeting.

Tommy forgot the anger, the feeling of abandonment. He stood up, ignoring the startled cries of his friends, and walked over to his sounder. He put his hand to his, in a greeting he knew more than his own language.

Blue eyes seemed out of place. The Piglin's gaze was alive and more human than ever before. Yet his hand matched Tommy's as it always did.

He put aside questions about how Techno was able to go to the Overworld without being tainted with putrefaction and rot, turning into one of the empty shells wandering aimlessly, for another time. Because he finally had hope.

The teen turned to his companions with a sharp smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Schlatt has no chance with us. We have the Blade!"

Chapter Text

The hierarchical structure of the Piglin society divided them into those who were fortunate, and those doomed, belonging to tragedy by the mere fact of being born.

Technoblade didn't remember much about his parents. In each sounder, every time Brutes were born, they were taken from their Protectors the moment they could eat solid food and carry weapons.

So during his tenth cycle - his fifth year - he was covered in gold and placed in care of the Bastion’s Warriors.

He was the biggest of his fellow shoats. Two Piglins, tusks not yet visible and eyes closed, following their Protector and playing with each other, pulling their tails and squealing happily; and him - bigger than them, more like a Piglin who lived through twenty cycles than a toddler piglet.

Their Protector - the female who fed them, sang lullabies and brushed their fur with surprising gentleness - paid no heed to his panicked squeals as the Bastion’s biggest Warrior, with torn ears and face full of gold earrings and chains, entered their lair, pointing at Technoblade. He wagged his tail and snorted, cocking his head to the side.

His Protector responded by snorting and swinging as if she were wielding a sword. The young Brute raised his ears and straightened up.

"Why are you introducing me?" He cocked his head to the side, placed a hand on his chest, and then sniffed twice as if smelling an unfamiliar scent. The matron frowned and pointed to the warrior who waited patiently, not changing his position.

"You’re a Brute. He's come to take you. He will raise you to become a great warrior, so you can bring glory to our Bastion when you grow up."

"But I don't want to be a warrior." He snorted, dropping his head low.

He was a kid, even though the word wasn't familiar to him yet - he wanted to be able to leave the Bastion and explore. He wanted to learn how to write and read. While helping the members of the sounder - something every young Piglin did; carrying items from room to storeroom, lighting lamps, polishing armor, delivering food or grinding herbs - his favorite thing to do was his duty among the elders, watching them leaf through the thick books bound in Strider’s skin, sometimes glistening with enchantments, mostly prepared for trades with Overworlders, both humans and hybrids.

The Warriors - the Brutes - didn’t go outside. Their whole life was confined to the Bastion. They had no time for themselves or for bonding with other members of the sounder. Their task was to defend the Bastion and train.

Curiosity was punished. No one wanted a warrior who could fail, and following the knowledge and the unknown was a recipe for disaster.

The Protector stomped her hoove. A low growl escaped her throat.

“It's an honor to be born into such a position. Hold your head high and carry it proudly. You will ensure the safety of all members of the sounder. The Nether has given you life out of brimstone, ashes, and sand so you can achieve your purpose."

The adult Brute nodded as the Matron put her necklace around Techno's neck and pushed him toward the exit.

Techno’s memories from the Bastion were shattered, faded by time, but still stuck in his subconscious.

After being placed in the care of the fellow Brutes, his mentor, Dante; two punches to the chest and a growl; dragged him by force to the cell, where he was to spend a few hours - then, it was time for a ceremony.

Brutes were relatively rare - in Techno’s sounder, he was the first in fifteen years.

He was clad in ritual robes - light red cloth with gold thread embroidery depicting fragments of his sounder’s history - and an abundance of gold jewelry.

His Protector approached Dante with a golden sword in her hand, handing it over to him.

Technoblade stared at the shoats he had grown up with, standing among the crowd. The smaller of them bowed her head low. Her tail curled between her legs.

Dante stood in front of Techno, handing over the sword.

Technoblade's ears were deaf to the words of the oath - swallowed up by the hum of enthusiastic shouts and stomps. The cheering sounder made him so nervous that he would remember it for the rest of his life.

His new guardian - mentor, warrior, tormentor - was making a speech welcoming him to his new life. He announced that the Nether had blessed their sounder with a new Warrior, who had the potential to grow into the greatest of them all.

Technoblade didn't feel particularly blessed.

His feeling of unhappiness only deepened as the training began.

Four hours of sleep was considered mercy. He wielded the sword until he no longer felt its weight; he practiced until the pain tore through his body, and every muscle throbbed so hard that he fell to the floor, unable to get up even to defend himself against the kicks of his opponents.

Then, after some time, he was placed on guard of the storage room. It was on a platform, surrounded by a lake of lava - terrace-like, with only one wall attached to the Bastion’s main building, the rest open to the outside so that the Piglins riding the Striders had easy access to the storage room.

Luggage of heavy, gold-filled pouches, wasn’t pleasant for traders who didn’t have much experience in physical strength.

Sixteen laps of lava—eight human years—was the perfect age to get your first solo task.

Technoblade, as soon as he was sure that he was alone, sat on the chest and put his sword on the floor.

The extracurricular activities were boring. The older warriors criticized him when he asked to learn how to write, insisting that he had no need for it.

The life of a Warrior, the one that was supposed to be a reward from the universe and a great honor, seemed like the most ordinary prison. The wonderful but empty words about the majesty and worth of his occupation were repetitive and dull.

"Fuck! Fucking hell, holy shit!"

Techno's ears perked up at the unfamiliar sound. It sounded like meaningless gibberish. He had never heard this kind of sound before.

He picked up his sword and cautiously approached the edge of the storage room. The heat from the lava was wearisome. The hot air hit his face.

Clinging to the wall, with an arrow sticking out of its thigh, hung a monster Techno had never seen before.

The creature was bald, except for the thin, useless hair that covered its head, like an ugly abomination. Fur only in one place, and unnaturally long - Techno suppressed a growl of disgust.

The creature had five-fingered hands, a short, almost flat snout, and small ears that looked more like plates than actual ears on the sides of its head.

It was screaming in panic, and at the sight of Techno, it froze before kicking stones at him.

The Piglin looked sympathetically at the wound in its thigh. The arrow was broken.

The blood of the mysterious creature had a metallic smell. It was red, just like Techno's blood.

If the creature was bleeding, it must have felt pain as well.

Cursing at himself, Techno walked over to one of the chests and pulled out a golden apple.

He picked up a small black stone and threw it at the dangling monster to attract attention. The creature continued to try to move away from the Bastion, but its arms and hands were trembling. It couldn't crawl up or move to the side.

Techno threw a second pebble, hitting the creature in its eye.

"OI! WHY DID YOU DO THAT!" The Piglin frowned. He might’ve not understood the stranger's speech, but its tone was definitely accusing.

The deformed creature continued to try - unsuccessfully - to climb the wall.

Techno threw another pebble. As the creature looked down, opening its mouth to make another unintelligible sound, the Piglin held up a golden apple, presenting it as an offering.

"You're incredibly loud." He told the creature, who looked like it was questioning its whole life.

Finally, two strange-looking legs began to roam the wall in search of protruding bricks. Slowly, with a hiss of pain, the creature lowered itself before landing on the storage room’s floor.

It raised its hands, palms open, as if to show that it had no weapons.

Technoblade handed over the apple and took a few steps back, watching the injured monster warily.

As the creature nodded and grabbed the arrow, pulling it out of its leg in one fluid movement, he began to squeal nervously as he ran over - forgetting the safety distance.

"What's wrong with you! Even a piglet knows not to pull out objects that are stuck in your body!” He sniffed at the wound, ready to rip his tunic open to use the scraps of fabric as bandages.

The creature let out a painful hiss, then began to hiccup, shaking slightly. Its mouth was curved upwards, revealing the front teeth, pitifully blunt and small.

It bit into the golden apple and breathed a sigh of relief. The wound had closed, leaving streaks of blood and a small scar behind.

Techno absolutely did not expect the creature to pat him on the head, as the traders did to their favorite Striders. He cocked his head to the side.

"Thanks for the help. When I saw I fell into the Bastion, I thought I was done. I started writing a will in my mind the moment I saw you were a Brute. I didn't expect you to help me. More to… You know. Tear me apart."

Technoblade cocked his head to the side and frowned.

The creature had a gentle look. It didn't look like a monster - at least now that it had calmed down and stopped making vague screams and other sharp, loud noises.

"Oh!" Surprise, uncertainty. A hand with five fingers lifted his head gently. The creature stared at him as if searching for something. "You’re a child!"

It made a sound of surprise. Techno cocked his head to the side again, trying to find a thread of understanding.

He felt like he was trying to talk to an Enderman. The sounds the stranger was making made no sense.

He placed a hand on his chest, then snorted and swung.

He looked expectantly at his companion, who frowned and thought for a while, trying to decipher his statement.

It placed a hand on his chest.

"Squidkid." It made the hiccupping sound again. "At least that's what everyone calls me. I had a certain... Squid Incident."

Technoblade began testing different sounds, trying to imitate the stranger's speech.

"Squid." He finally let out, after several failed attempts.

The stranger twisted his mouth even wider, showing his teeth. Techno repeated his gesture, not fully understanding its meaning.

Squid, as it turned out, despite eating the golden apple, was still injured. His leg was blue and started taking on a dead color.

With a serious injury, he had no chance of surviving in the Nether. The lack of water and the heat would exhaust his system, so Technoblade decided to protect him.

He helped him hide in the alcove, hiding him from the rest of the Piglins. He shared his portions with him. As Squid began to slowly move around the storage room, leaning against the walls, looking for a way out of the Bastion, Technoblade trailed after him like a piglet following a Protector.

“When I get out of here and back to my home, I will harvest and bring you the best quality crops. Believe me, people would kill for my potatoes. I'm the best farmer in the whole area. I'll bring you some toys too. Children should be able to play."

Technoblade snorted as he monologued to himself. He couldn't understand a word of his new friend's speech, but he didn't want him to feel ignored.

Squid was a human - one of the creatures the Piglins traded with and the Brutes were supposed to guard the Bastions from. He didn't look sinister though. When he raised Techno's sword to examine it, he did so miserably, as if he had never held a weapon in his hand before.

Techno suspected that people, like the Piglins, divided themselves into professions and kept to their jobs.

“You know, our languages are different. I’m curious if you could give me a name in your language. Maybe it would be easier for you to pronounce it." Squid scooped up some red sand and scattered it across the floor. He drew a wavy mark, then pointed to the lava, then back to the drawing. "This is water."

Technoblade watched with amusement as he failed to explain his world. He looked at the drawing, cocked his head to the side, and pointed at the lava.

Squid shook his head, pointed at the lava, then at the ceiling.

Techno frowned and huffed. Finally, after a few minutes, he managed to conclude that Squid wanted to tell him about lava from the Overworld. Or non-lava , if his denial gestures meant anything.

The man made various gestures; he pointed to the drawing of the waves and pretended to take the substance in his hand and drink it; then he pretended to swim.

Non-lava must have been something important to humans. Techno nodded - he had already established that this gesture must have meant understanding.

Then Squid drew a creature among the waves, one that looked like a real mutant. Technoblade snorted, shaking his head. His tail thumped rhythmically on the ground.

A creature living in non-lava that Squid must have been named after, if his comical gestures and emotional sounds meant anything.

Technoblade frowned. He pointed to the drawing and made a swimming-like motion. He arranged his hands as if he were shoveling lava with them - once he had to swim in it, when Dante forced him to drink the orange potion and threw him in the middle of the lake, as a test of endurance.

Squid nodded enthusiastically.

He made the same gesture, then pointed at himself.

"Squid." And again, he moved his hands around the air. Techno pricked up his ears, wagging his tail even faster.

His friend wanted a name in his language and took the one Techno unknowingly suggested.

He froze as the man placed his hand on his head. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he leaned into it.

Then he started pointing at himself, bouncing in place. He snorted and swung, then waved at Squid, waiting for his verdict.

"How about Technoblade? Techno from the Greek tekhne , which, if I remember correctly, means craft or art. And blade, because you do not part with your sword."

The Piglin's tail thumped lively on the floor. He pricked his ears.

"Technoblade” he stammered, almost unintelligibly, pressing a hand to his chest.

He turned and walked over to a chest. He took out two golden beads.

Squid would make an excellent sounder member. He could help them connect with humans! Or keep Techno company. The Piglin congratulated himself on his plan - inviting a human into the sounder was obvious. He wasn't evil, he didn't steal from them, and he didn't hurt anyone.

He turned to Squid and handed him one bead, pointing to his necklace.

The man took it in his hand and smiled brightly, making noises in a tone Techno had learned to identify as asking. He pointed to the bead. His gaze was gentle and warm, and made Techno feel like he was back in a cozy lair, together with the shoats he had been born with, and their Protector.

Squid opened his mouth, but no words came.

A golden axe cut into his head.

The man's skull was split in two: his left eye bulged out and warm blood gushed over Techno.

The Piglin drew back, whimpering in horror. His friend's hand was still clenched around the golden bead as his body fell limp to the ground,

Dante stood over the corpse, growling and screaming, but Techno couldn't look away from Squid's body. His brain was slowly flowing out onto the black bricks. The metallic smell was overpowering, paralyzing his airways and filling his entire being.

Dante grabbed him by the snout and hit, then broke one of his tusks.

Breaking a tusk was equal to a death sentence. Only traitors had them broken in half, stripped of sharp ends, to show that they had shamed Bastion and put it in danger.

No Piglin sounder would ever help a traitor.

Technoblade still couldn't take his eyes off of Squid - he didn't when Dante chained him, or when he started being dragged towards the cell. It wasn't until another Brute had pushed the man's immobile body into the lava that he was able to look down. But even then, out of the corner of his eye, he seemed to see the cracked skull, bathed in blood and pink.

Time no longer mattered. He recognized that it was passing by the changing guards, but he felt as if it had stopped.

Until one day he was led to the arena located underneath the main hall of the Bastion.

He watched the other Piglins come out, all with broken tusks like him, but grown, their faces and bodies scarred. One was missing an eye, the other had a ripped off ear, the remains of which had traces indicating that it had been bitten off.

Fights to the death, to the delight of the crowd. And Techno, having sixteen cycles, thrown into the arena like an animal, facing the audience demanding blood.

The members of the sounder were to be absolutely faithful to each other. They were supposed to look after each other and act as one. Great, efficient mechanism. When a part of it turned out to be defective, it had to be disposed of.

There was no better way than to show the rest of the sounder what fate awaited those branded as traitors.

Eight human years - the moment when people start counting to hundred, learning to spell correctly and reading longer stories; The moment Technoblade got his rusty sword in his hands and got put in front of his first opponent.

Brutes did not betray their sounders. Techno was the only one among the outcasts. Despite his young age, he matched them both in height and weight.

Ordinary Piglins weren’t taught that following their instincts was a sign of weakness; they haven’t had them knocked out of them by long, merciless training. Technoblade, where he was lacking in strength, he was unmatched in intellect. He squealed the way piglets used to as a call for help from their Protectors, taking advantage of the confusion of his opponents.

They didn’t want to fight children, or they were simply drawn into the instincts which were ordering them to take care of the young one.

A year passed. Two cycles - a small period, almost meaningless.

Technoblade was tired. His torso was scarred, his wrists scratched raw by the chafing, mismatched, tight chains. His ear was pierced with a strip of leather with a number on it.

He missed being a person.

It was luck on his side - one of the guards didn’t lock his cell. Technoblade walked through Bastion looking for weapons.

He was noticed by the Protector with a young shoat.

He thought of the arena, of the endless nightmare; of opponents who could soon stop reacting to his squeals; he jumped on the pair, aiming his sword - the ceremonial one with which he had been recruited years ago - at the throat.

In that moment, he was like death itself. He walked the corridors, gaining confidence with each step. Each scream merged with the image of the arena. He saw crowds screaming, chanting his name, telling him to kill his opponent in the bloodiest way possible.

Blood for the blood god , they chanted, stomping, snarling and growling.

The only thought other than leaving this nightmare was giving the sounder what they had asked for.

Panic, terror, exhaustion, and time spent killing to the delight of the sounder members followed him as he wandered the empty halls of the Bastion, dragging his bloody sword on the floor, with a rope around his neck like a noose .

When he jumped on Dante, he attacked him furiously, looking more like an animal than a thinking being. He ripped his neck, scratched his shoulders. He slashed at the Brute with the blade of his sword until the walls were covered with blood and his body torn in half.

Before his eyes, instead of a massacred body, he saw his former mentor kill Squid, pushing his body aside as if he meant nothing.

He strode through the Bastion like an angry deity, wreaking havoc and destruction.

He was a monster, created by the sounder he entertained by giving them blood. And now, bathed in it, he wandered the corridors, feeling as if he had no control over his own body. His movements were mechanical and learned.

He didn't know when the humans had appeared in the Bastion, but when they started tugging at the rope tied around his neck, dragging him like a Hoglin to slaughter, they became one of the next opponents. His panicked mind paid no attention to whom he was taking life from. All that mattered was getting out of the hell he was doubly imprisoned in - once as its protector, the other as its broken toy.

He had spent a lot of time wandering - there was no place in the Nether that he could call his own, or even at least safe.

The Piglins were unable to produce tears. He had never seen sadness among his kind before. Yet bereavement, guilt, and the searing relief that came with freedom were tearing his heart apart.

A necklace, acting as a lasting reminder of his victims, hung around his neck.

Technoblade avoided sounders of other Piglins. He stopped seeing himself as a person. For his deed - bathed in blood, with a legend growing around it - he deserved to rot in solitude.

He doubted he had a soul that could be consumed by dark sand and blue flames; after all, nothing that was a person would mindlessly kill everyone in its path.

He wandered, like one of the empty rotting shells eaten by rot, slowly wasting away.

Until one day, he heard a panic filled scream - human, but a few octaves higher than the one he heard two years earlier.

The human piglet was shielding itself from the young Hoglin heading towards it. He let out screams of panic and shielded his face from razor-sharp tusks.

His legs and hands were shaking. He was helpless, he had nothing to defend himself with.

So Techno did what no one else did for him; he did what he needed when he was dragged to fill in a role that wasn’t of his choosing. Something that made him feel that deep down he could still be a person.

He saved the boy.

The moment the blonde put his hand to his, Technoblade felt his heart beat again.

And amidst all the inconveniences, arguments, disappointments, games, laughter and tears, with each passing day, he became sure that he was born to meet Tommy.

So when he awoke, warmed by the glow of lava, with his last memory being one of noticing his body begin to decay and the only thought left in his body being that he was looking for someone, he immediately remembered his sounder - the person who had accepted him, even though Techno should not be awarded such an honor.

"It worked! It's amazing!"

He shook himself, feeling dizzy. The enthusiastic voice to his left was loud; thundered in his ears and filled his skull. Every movement was overwhelming, and the touch of the cold floor made him vomit.

A man in a green sweatshirt, with a white mask with a smile painted on it, stared at him with pure fascination. He crouched down in a chair to be level with the confused Piglin.

Techno licked his lips and cleared his throat. He looked around the room, but it didn't stand out much.

"I died."

"And I brought you back." The masked man spoke up, declaring it nonchalantly, as if he hadn't broken all the laws of nature. He extended his hand towards him. "Dream."

Technoblade growled, ears flattened.

"You shot T-"

"A-a-a" Dream wiggled his finger, interrupting him. "I brought you back to life. Watch your words. Unless you want to go back to rotting and wandering aimlessly through the woods."

Techno looked at his forearms. The places where bones and rot were visible were covered in fur, as if none of this had happened. The only evidence of those wounds ever existing was that the spots they had been in had a little lighter fur.

"You can bring dead back to life." He choked out. He frowned. "And you know that I understand you."

"I know everything that goes on here." Dream didn't seem bothered by his serious tone. He jumped up and down, watching him in fascination. "But I have to admit it's fascinating."

Technoblade frowned, but suppressed the growl that was building up in his throat. Dream shrugged.

“I think you're a person who prefers being honest and straightforward. So we can get down to business."

"Who said I want anything to do with you?" Techno snorted, lowering his ears. His tail was wagging from side to side, showing his annoyance.

"You owe me." Dream answered, smiling cheekily. "Unless Tommy means so little to you. I wonder how he would react to your zombified version. I have to say, it was a little bit funny, seeing you wander aimlessly, not recognising anything, being completely helpless."

Technoblade pursed his lips, snorting angrily. Dream's smile widened.

"I thought so too!" He started examining his nails. "So let's get down to business - I want you to destroy L'manburg. I want it to disappear from the face of the earth."

The Piglin snorted a laugh and shook his head.

"I won't hurt Tommy. If you're trying to blackmail me with him, you should know it."

"I'm not asking you to hurt him. I don't want that myself, that would be unfortunate." Dream leaned his elbows on the back of the chair. He tilted his head to the side and pricked his ears. "Destroy L'manburg, cut yourself off from Tommy."

"No."

"So you don't want his happiness? You’re a Piglin. You know perfectly well that his father is an Avian, and Tommy's only dream is to get wings. Don't you want his happiness? Do you care so little?”

Techno snorted at his words. Dream smiled slyly.

“I wrote a letter to Philza. He will come on the day of the battle. I want you to cut yourself off from Tommy for a while, so they can build their relationship. A few weeks later, you'll come back and explain what happened, and Tommy will greet you happy, with wings on his back."

"I'm not leaving him alone with Wilbur."

“Philza will take care of Wilbur, believe me. I have everything under control. Do your part and that's it. At this point, you're the one Tommy trusts the most. You want him to be disappointed waking up as a Piglin? Because that’s how it will be. All his life he wanted to be able to fly. Do you want to be the person to pin him to the ground?"

Technoblade was silent, lowering his head.

“Or maybe we should see how he reacts to the information that his beloved sounder member is a murderer who finished off not only adults from his old Bastion, but also children? Why do you look surprised? I have my sources, I can find useful information.”

"Tommy would understand."

"Of course. That's why you never told him."

The Piglin's mouth was pressed into a thin line. Dream stretched as if bored.

"Let's do this - you'll destroy L'manburg, you'll make sure they can't rebuild on what remains of it. You will sever your ties with Tommy. And then, when everything is back in order, when there is no conflict, because everyone will be on the same side, you will go back and talk to him, explain the situation. I'll even vouch for you!"

He started looking around the room. He threw his arms up.

"I'll make sure Tommy’s safe. I'll take care of him. I can even get rid of Schlatt." He pulled a vial filled with a shimmering liquid from his sweatshirt’s pocket. “People with heart problems shouldn’t take speed. It may have… unfortunate consequences.”

Technoblade counted to ten, catching his breath. He calmed down, forcing his tail to stay still. Dream was hard to read, as he covered his face. Most people could be understood, including their intentions, by their facial expressions.

"So you get rid of Schlatt, you keep Tommy safe, and then when it's over, I come back and explain the situation."

"Exactly!"

"Tommy will hate you for being behind the destruction of L'manburg."

“In time, he will understand that it is for the good of all of us. L'manburg was divisive. Tommy will find his true home with his father. Everything will be as it should be.” Dream tapped his fingers on the chair. “I don’t have anything against him. More than that! I want to help! He’s just a kid that got stuck in a bad situation.”

Technoblade fell silent, analyzing his words. Regardless of the decision made, the consequences were to be catastrophic.

Dream brought him back to life. He owed him a favor, and destruction was something he was born for.

When he went outside and discovered that the side effect of being brought back to life was getting rid of the rot, he felt relief mixed with joy. But he had no time to marvel at the Overworld and its beauty.

Dressed in the best armor he had, with a weapon that guaranteed an easy victory, he stood at the entrance of Pogtopia.

Tommy looked at him the same way he did all those years ago, when he saved him from the Hoglin.

Forgive me, for having to break that trust; Technoblade thought, and moved forward.

“Did someone say rebellion?”

Chapter Text

Tommy watched Techno in silence that didn’t suit him one bit.

Unspoken questions seemed to float in the air - each of the members of Pogtopia looked like they wanted to bury them both under their avalanche - but instead of questioning Techno's presence, they relied on Tommy's reaction. They had no time to ask questions and get to know each other; the joy and triumph with which the teenager greeted the Piglin had to be enough for them to trust him.

Tommy sat down between his friends - Tubbo, sitting to his right, was very ostentatiously glancing at the Piglin, clearly excited.

Wilbur rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, muttering under his breath. He looked torn between being glad that there was a competent person in their group and being absolutely indignant that Technoblade had re-entered their lives, not long after he was sure he had left in search of better company.

Tommy looked more closely at the Piglin; his russet fur was paler, closer to pink in places that looked like ragged patches. His gaze was focused on the maps in front of him - Tommy had learned to identify what the member of his sounder was looking at, so it was strange to have actual certainty of that. His blue eyes, though gentle and warm, seemed out of place.

His right ear was a bit more ripped - the previous notch was joined by another, almost tearing it in half.

Techno snorted and looked at Tommy out of the corner of his eye. Some of the tension left his body. With a subtle smile, he flicked his tail, smacking Tommy's thigh. The teen rolled his eyes and grabbed it, as a piglet would do with its guardian.

"Shall we address the elephant in the room?" Quackity gestured in the general direction of Techno, looking exhaustedly at his companions.

"There is no elephant here." The Piglin put in helpfully, pricking his ears. Wilbur burst into hysterical laughter, and Tubbo smiled nervously. Tommy was sure Techno's words weren't meant to be a joke.

Quackity groaned and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer.

"A Piglin. A talking Piglin." An uncontrollable giggle escaped his throat. "It's a Piglin who's talking. And what? Is he going to help us?”

"Good to know you paid attention when studying biology, Quackity." Wilbur grunted, stopping in place. "But no matter how incompetent of an idiot you are, you're right. It's unusual for a Piglin to want to help us in the Overworld ."

"I'm doing all this for you, Wilbur. I'm offended, you know my name." He replied sardonically. Tubbo jumped to his feet and made a half-bow, which he quickly regretted, judging by his groan of pain. Tommy winced, wishing he hadn't torn the stitches. Stitching one wound multiple times was an experience he wouldn't wish on his worst enemies - except maybe Jack, for the crime of being bald.

"Mr. Blade, Tommy told me about you! It's an honor to meet you!” He said with a broad smile. Techno raised an eyebrow - Tommy was stunned; whatever happened to Techno made him have more facial muscles than before; his expression was more expressive - and snorted in amusement.

"Tubbo, right?" The teen beamed at the mention of his own name, as if Technoblade had just given him the most wonderful compliment.

"I think we should get back to planning." Niki interjected gently, “Schlatt will have support. People won't turn away from him, even if they don't agree with him."

"They're pussies." Tommy declared, for which he was hit in the neck by Techno.

Wilbur and Quackity looked at her, ready to interject, but she forestalled them.

"Yes, Technoblade's presence is astonishing and surprising," she nodded at him with a polite smile, "no offense, but it's quite unusual, I didn't think Piglins could talk and be in the Overworld. But that's not what we should focus on. We will have the opportunity to get to know each other better when it's all over."

Wilbur turned away, but didn't deny her words.

“Well, an attack from the east seems like a good solution. The bigger problem is that we don't know what fortifications L'manberg will have. I'm a good fighter, but I'd rather not have a situation where I have to deal with an entire army. We don't even know the President's weaknesses." The Piglin bent over the map. His ears perked up at the faint sound of footsteps.

"What if I can change it?"

Tommy jumped up as Funy stood in the shadows of the hallway, clutching a notebook. His tail and ears were lowered in quasi-shame, the same way when Willbur caught him throwing eggs at Tubbo's house.

He looked tired. His perfectly tailored suit—a far cry from the slightly oversized pastel uniform—and his neatly styled hair made him look older than he was.

Tommy was probably the only one who could understand the desire to impress Wilbur, the desire to make him proud.

The atmosphere was thick - everyone focused their eyes on Fundy, who stood implacably in the doorway, never taking his eyes off the general. Tommy opened his mouth, ready to start an argument to get an ounce of normalcy. Sometimes the silence was louder than the screams, and the urge to drown it out seemed overwhelming.

Ready to step into his practiced and familiar role, he took a deep breath, but was interrupted by Techno, nudging him on the shoulder.

" Is that Wilbur's shoat? " He made sure by repeating the gesture he used to refer to Tommy, but adding a punch to the chest at the end. Tommy saw from the corner of his eye Tubbo watching them with keen interest.

He nodded, and Techno nodded back.

" Let him handle it. If something goes wrong, you can intervene. It’s not your responsibility to resolve every conflict. "

" It sure feels like it is. " The teenager growled reluctantly, looking at his older brother.

Wilbur caught his eye, frowned, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“We don't need traitors here. Go clean Schlatt's shoes." He sneered, turning to his son. Fundy's shoulders slumped.

"Dad, listen-"

"Fundy, sometimes actions are louder than words, and you've proven with yours where your loyalty lies."

"Wilbur, can you listen to me for once in your life?" Fundy screamed, clenching his hands into fists as his voice broke. He didn't lower his gaze, though for a moment his head nodded downward as if he felt obligated to do so. "I stayed with Schlatt to be your spy! I'm better at this than Tubbo! Nobody suspected me! I did it for you." The last words sounded pleading, but Wilbur seemed adamant.

It was hard to accept that he was no better father than the one he had disowned. The struggle to make a difference, to give more than what one had received, was useless; after all, the apple didn't fall far from the tree, and Wilbur couldn't have been a better parent than his own, when that example was practically non-existent.

"Wil, just listen to him?"

Fundy flinched as his father softened at Tommy's words. He handed him his diary silently, finally lowering his eyes, trying to control the blush of shame that started crawling across his cheeks.

Because his father's patience and love for Tommy was greater than the one he received.

Fundy did not consider himself a jealous person; he accepted that he wasn’t a priority in his family; but it didn't stop the unpleasant stabbing in his chest as he kept telling himself that Tommy's intentions were good, that he wanted to help.

And he did, which was even worse.

Wilbur picked up the diary, leafing through it. He muttered under his breath, reading some of the notes aloud. As he smiled at Fundy's tiny sketches - one of Schlatt drowning in the ocean and the fox hybrid in a boat, rowing away with a comically wide grin - the fox jumped, overpowered by a rush of pride and contentment.

Like any child, he sought his parent's approval.

Wilbur snapped his journal shut and closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. Finally, he sighed, handing the notebook back into his son's hands.

"All right." It wasn't 'I believe you' , it wasn't 'I'm proud' , but Fundy long accepted that he wouldn’t hear those words from his mouth. Not when he was the second choice.

He leaned against the wall, close to the exit, his eyes roving over the group. He tried to look nonchalant, but an awkwardly muffled squeak escaped his throat as he caught Techno's gaze.

"Excellent! What a great army! We should recruit more traitors into our ranks!” Wilbur announced with exaggerated glee.

Niki shook her head.

“We all want to fight for the same cause. Why would we exclude people who want to join us? What does it matter where we were before coming here? I, too, was under Schlatt's rule, and before that I ran against you in the election. And yet you don’t suppose that I will turn against you."

"Niki, you're different-" Wilbur started, but the girl cut him off.

"No, it just means you're not taking me seriously. Wilbur, we're here to help you. We all want a home to come back to. We're all tired. We have something to fight for, and no matter whose side we were on before, we're on the same now. No one here will betray anyone."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Is it normal for people to hold days of surprises? Is it a human thing?" Techno whispered ostentatiously, leaning into Tommy's ear. "Because I wanted my reveal to be the most interesting part of the day, and everyone here is kind of ruining it for me."

"Dream likes to ruin things, big guy." Tommy groaned, but his voice was tinged with amusement.

Dream was standing in one of the mine's upper shafts, examining his fingernails.

"I won’t fight on your side. I got an offer from Schlatt that I couldn't refuse." A growl escaped Techno's throat. Dream was facing Wilbur, but Piglin had no doubt he was watching him. "But for the sake of our old friendship, I'll give you some information."

His voice was cheerful, full of childlike amusement. He pushed off the wall and looked at the whole group.

"You have a traitor in your ranks." He said before disappearing into the depths of the tunnel.

Tommy bristled, calling after him with curses.

"It's not worth listening to. He's trying to break us up because if we fight, we won't be as strong." He announced, focusing the group's eyes on him. Quackity shrugged.

"I don't know, Fundy suddenly came here, it's a bit suspicious."

"I was a spy!" cried the fox, turning red in the face. "I don't know, maybe you're making accusations because you have something to hide, Mr. Vice?"

"Enough." Wilbur slammed his fist on the table. The arguing duo jumped in surprise. "It doesn't matter now. Instead, we must prepare for the attack. Traitor or not, we're still a loser."

Tommy sighed and leaned against Tubbo's good shoulder. The brunette rolled his eyes, mumbling something that sounded similar to accusing him of being clingy.

Soon, Techno took control of their gathering, going over his plan.

Tommy sighed, enjoying the moment of peace while it lasted.

Tommy sat on the hill. The stars reflected in the river as if there was a second sky in it.

"Everybody is sleeping." Technoblade sat next to him. He ran his hand across the grass. He watched with fascination the insects circling between its blades. Somewhere nearby, cicadas were having their concert, filling the night with rhythmic, almost soothing sound.

Tommy thought of Philza's night-black wings. Of a summer spent stargazing; once by his side, later by Tubbo’s and Fundy’s. Wilbur had never wanted to spend time with him like that; not since Philza’s wanderings had become longer and his Bad Days more frequent.

Perhaps he was afraid of the Phantoms. After all, they were a real threat with his occasional insomnia.

The night was dangerous, filled with monsters roaming the world. Thus, it seemed more alive than the day - only people hid in their buildings, avoiding skeletons and creepers.

"Not everyone." He replied, lying down on the grass. Technoblade settled down next to him, taking a deep breath.

"This is the first time I see a dark sky." Somewhere in the forest an owl was hooting, getting ready to hunt at night. It flew over them, casting a shadow and temporarily blocking the moon above them. "I'm glad to share this moment with you."

Tommy snorted in amusement but moved closer to him.

"These dots are stars." He raised his hand up and began to roam the sky with it, drawing vague shapes. “When they are together, they form constellations. Which are pictures made of the stars that you can imagine if you put them together. This group is called the killer whale. " He pointed to the winding tracks in the sky. He moved his finger to another group of stars. "And this Henry ."

Techno hummed; no doubt he had read about the stars before, after all Tommy - and later Wilbur, perhaps as an offering for not mauling the blond kid - gave him many Overworld books. Something about the way Tommy's eyes traced these invisible shapes, the nostalgia that softened his gaze, made him sure that these constellations were more important than those that were commonly known.

He allowed Tommy to describe the constellations one by one, describing the invented stories whose heroes they were supposed to be. Henry was the cow Phil had promised to bring him for his birthday - a wish never fulfilled, but Tommy's love for this potential animal was as bright as the stars hanging over them.

“Everyone sees what they want in the sky. That's the whole fun of it."

“According to myths, some constellations are people who were suspended in the sky to immortalize them. This way, when you look at the stars, you can remember the people they commemorate. As long as they're there, those people stay alive." Techno interjected.

Tommy was silent for a moment, then pointed to one of the brighter stars - part of a great bear - and sketched a shape that only he could see.

"That’s the fox constellation." He said in a certain tone. Techno looked up at the sky and imagined a woman with red hair; an adult that Tommy needed, who was consumed by the flames and didn't even get a proper burial.

Years had passed, and yet grief continued to return unexpectedly. There was a certain nostalgia associated with it - as if you were attached to the memory of mourning more than to the person it concerned. It was gentle and did not fill the heart with heartbreaking sadness, only an unpleasant melancholy crowned with the question of " what if? ".

And yet it was comforting to know that some people were never forgotten, no matter how suddenly they disappeared from one’s life.

He stared at Tommy, who busied himself describing other stars, but his hand still pointed to the constellation he had just invented to commemorate Sally. Techno thought maybe the grief never went away, it just became a monotonous part of life; expected everyday, which soon caused the grieving person to stop paying attention to it, and only in specific, perhaps seemingly insignificant moments, it revealed itself.

Techno thought about his own constellation - it was probably hanging above them, invisible yet, because it was bound by the life artificially stuffed into his body, but felt.

He hoped he would never have to become a visible memorial in the stars, even if part of his soul already belonged to them.

"I wanted to talk to you." He reluctantly interrupted Tommy's monologue, who stumbled over the words, dropping his proud bravado for a moment.

The teen turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

"I wanted to show you Overworld. We've always been waiting for this." He was right. The desire to see the green grass, the sky that was painted with thousands of colors, the earth of different shades and the trees that shed their leaves and filled the world with fresh, crisp air, had always been there; since he got to know Tommy better and learned to communicate with him.

"We don't have time for that right now. War is coming." He took a deep breath, searching for the right words. Piglin culture was literal, direct. It was human language that was able to describe complex emotions, and even so it was a difficult thing, bordering on impossible.

"Okay then, let's talk. You left me. You disappeared without explanation." Tommy blamed him. His tone of voice was bitter and ugly.

"I went looking for you. I got lost." Techo closed his eyes. The wind ruffled his fur, carrying the scent of flowers and wild herbs with it. "But I'm back."

"You can be in the Overworld. If you followed me-” The teenager jumped up suddenly, grabbed his hand and started examining it carefully. Techno's body didn't rot though; his body didn't collapse into itself. "You’re not rotting."

"Nope." Techno considered telling him the truth, but the concern with which Tommy watched him put a mental block on him. He had so many worries on his mind. Adding another one seemed unfair. "I don’t now what happened. I started to fall apart and then suddenly I was whole and healthy.”

"Your eyes are blue now. And you're more expressive."

Techno grunted. He didn't have time to look at the changes his body had undergone as a result of being resurrected. He smiled.

"Maybe they're like yours?"

"We're like brothers." Tommy snorted with a barely suppressed laugh. He paused, and an awkward silence fell between them. "I mean we're not. Because you have disowned me."

" Heh ?"

"You said we're not brothers." Tommy explained helpfully, turning on his side and stepping away from the Piglin. Techno frowned.

"Because we're not." He replied, pondering the mechanics of human relationships. Tommy likened the sounder to a human counterpart. "We are the sounder. Family." He stated.

The teenager snorted.

"It doesn't work that way, big man. You said we're not brothers, so we're not family."

"Heh? No, I'm your protector. The family is like a sounder. Wilbur is your brother, I couldn't be-"

Tommy turned to him, his face contorted in anger, but his thoughts quieted at the sight of confusion in Techno's entire demeanor. He frowned and tilted his head to the side.

"Wait a minute. Stop. What do you think a brother is?"

Technoblade huffed and began to play with the grass.

“A weak sounder member who hurts the rest of it, but no one gets rid of them. A burden. Someone you love who doesn't offer you love back in the same way."

The forest was silent, punctuated by the distant footsteps of monsters and the sounds of animals. Tommy's gaze, which had been angry a moment ago, was filled with understanding and relief.

"Oh." He groaned, falling back into the grass as if he had collapsed under the weight of the relief he felt. He shook his head in disbelief. An incredulous laugh escaped his throat. "Fuck."

Techno tilted his head to the side, asking him a silent question. He was propped up on his elbows in a semi-recumbent position. Tommy took a deep breath, trying to calm his growing giggling.

“No, a brother is something completely different. Wilbur is my brother and I am his. Tubbo is like my brother. And you." He thought for a moment, gaining a little confidence when the Piglin didn't interrupt him, patiently waiting for an explanation. “Brothers care for each other. You know human relationships are fucked up, right? So a brother is a person with whom you are related, with whom you share a parent - a guardian - but not always. Sometimes, when you're very close to someone, they become your brother, because friendship isn't enough of a word to convey that bond. Brotherhood is a special kind of love. You know, understanding, patience, not turning your back on others in times of need. A bit like how sounder members behave."

"Oh." This time it was Techno who sounded surprised. " Oh ."

Tommy felt his courage and bravado leave him.

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean... I thought it was a bad thing."

Because your only example of what a brother is was Wilbur, some embittered part of Tommy whispered. He didn't say the words aloud, but they were evident in the silence that enveloped the clearing.

Techno looked conflicted, as if he was considering something and trying to stop himself. He finally gave up, giving up the battle with his thoughts.

"That means we're brothers." He said. And it was as simple as the grass being green and the netherrack being red. A kind of apology, unspoken but obvious.

"We should have clarified this earlier. I shouldn't have gotten so mad. I should’ve listened." Tommy looked up at the sky with some melancholy. He grimaced, his brows furrowed and his mouth curved into a grimace. "I didn’t use to be this angry."

"Before, you had no reason to be." The Piglin interjected; the teen thought about it. Yes, the lack of a father, because he prioritized his adventures over his children, Wilbur's bad days - they were unpleasant things, but his life was a little more stable back then. He didn't have to fear that he would lose his loved ones, that he would wake up and have no home. The specter of death, merciless and incessant, did not hang over him.

As a child, it was easier for him to see that he was surrounded by love. Sometimes it was hard to pinpoint when exactly he grew out of it.

He stood up, brushing the ants and dirt off his pants. He yawned and tapped Techno with his foot.

"I'm going to bed." He announced, moving slowly towards the entrance to Pogtopia. The Piglin looked after him, looking torn.

Tommy was relieved to think that no matter how difficult the situation was and how many changes he had to adjust to, he could still read Techno emotions. He knew him more than anyone else.

"Tommy, sometimes we do things that hurt others to prevent more harm." His ears were down and his tail was swishing rhythmically on the ground. "I don’t want to hurt you. And I don't want to lose you even more."

"Techno, come on. You would never hurt me. You’re my Protector, remember?"

The smile that Techno sent him was forced. Tommy tried not to think about it as he entered the ravine and settled down on the mattress next to Wilbur, letting his older brother embrace him in his sleep.

Wilbur was acting more nervous than usual, Techno thought as he watched his frantic movements. The dark-haired man reached for his beanie, pulling it up and adjusting it as if showing his ears and the top of his head would destroy the universe. His hands were trembling, and his nails were torn and bloody, reduced to shreds.

Techno didn't like Wilbur. His sympathy for the brunette was limited to the maximum, and the only thing that kept him from attacking him was his concern for Tommy, who, for some unknown reason, decided that Wilbur was worth his time.

Even after explaining the concept of brotherhood, Techno still didn't think the bond was healthy or necessary. Perhaps the Piglins were right about how their family units worked. Picking sounder members was a better idea than the mess of human families.

My reputation, he thought sadly before grabbing Wilbur's arm and dragging him deeper into the mine, seeking some privacy from the rest of the rebellion.

 Niki helped Fundy cook the fish by sticking them onto a long stick over the fire, Tommy helped Tubbo change the bandages, and Quackity was bent over the maps, occasionally glancing at Techno with an expression of pure distrust.

He shook his head, ignoring the general's protests and indignation.

Finally, they were far enough away for Techno to be sure they were out of earshot of the rest of them.

"Look, Technoblade, I appreciate your presence and help, but-"

"Wilbur, are you okay?" he asked, interrupting him. Wilbur stopped, looked at him, and sighed heavily.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" Techno tilted his head to the side, not hiding his confusion. Wilbur groaned and shook his head.

"With that . You have mannerisms similar to Tommy's. You look at me the same way he does when he tries to emotionally manipulate me."

"You mean when he’s worrying. I doubt Tommy knows what emotional manipulation is." Maybe then he wouldn't stay with you , he thought bitterly.

Wilbur was a complicated man - more than Techno preferred. Reading Tommy's emotions was easy, maybe because he was open about them, or maybe because Techno just knew what he was feeling.

The man, on the other hand, hid behind lies, speeches and well-chosen words, wanting to create reality according to his preferences, directing people and events as if he was writing a script.

However, he was related to Tommy and, despite all odds, shared certain behaviors with him.

He bit his lip and picked at his cuticle, avoiding Piglin's gaze. Finally, he winced and turned to him.

"I had a manifestation of my hybrid heritage, recently.."

Techno blinked, trying to find a context for his strange, paranoid behavior. He tilted his head to the side and snorted.

"Congratulations?"

"No, I- Just see." He ripped off his beanie, revealing a pair of sheep's ears and horns. He stared at Techno with determination, waiting for a reaction. Unfortunately, the Piglin didn't quite know which one.

“Uh, I like your horns, Wilbur. They’re really nicely curling?" He offered.

He had a feeling that this big reveal meant something similar as him revealing his secret of understanding human language did for himself  for Wilbur, but there was still a question in his mind with no clear answer - what was so secret about it?

Their father was a hybrid. Tommy was sure he was about to make a manifestation. Even if Wilbur’s was delayed, and some people with the potential to manifest did not, it did not eliminate the likelihood that it would happen someday .

Wilbur sputtered, looking at him with raised eyebrows. He gestured vigorously, pointing to his face.

"They’re curling nicely? Seriously? Technoblade, I look like Schlatt."

Techno narrowed his eyes and put his ears down.

"Nah, you look like Wilbur. It's hard to confuse this arrogance and an inner sense of superiority."

"It's Schlatt's horns!"

"They're attached to your skull, so I'd say they're yours."

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped from the brunette's throat. He tilted his head back. His arms jumped up and his body shook.

"You don't understand, do you?"

"What is there to understand? Hybrid or not, you look the same to me. Maybe more tired."

A strange expression crossed Wilbur's face. His gaze became distant, his eyes glassy and his mouth slightly curved downwards. He cleared his throat, getting rid of the obvious emotion on his face, probably pushing it to all the rest, with which he was postponing the confrontation.

"So it doesn't matter? I have the same traits as the dictator we're fighting, and you don't care?"

“Look, I'm not the best at understanding your emotions, you're making it a bit too complicated, but what does it matter? There are thousands of hybrids in the world with the same characteristics, and this does not mean that they are similar to each other. Most Piglins look the same, yet we are all different. Like it or not, these are your traits, whether they remind you of someone or not."

Wilbur nodded stiffly, not looking convinced but not contradicting his words either.

He cleared his throat in obvious embarrassment, rubbing his eyes quickly.

"Techno my man, since we're here, I'd like to ask you a favor." He frowned, pausing for a moment. "If anything happens, I'd like you to make sure Tommy is in good hands."

"That sounds a bit suspicious, Wilbur."

"Just- promise me he won't be alone?"

Techno nodded decisively. He bared his teeth in a smile.

"I can’t believe that every conversation we have comes down to that gremlin."

"Well, we don't have much else in common, do we?" The general noticed, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. Techno laughed.

“I could introduce you to the wonderful world of farming. I think you would get a lot out of it. Education is the key to knowledge, and knowledge is the key to power.”

"I'm educated enough."

"I literally never saw you pick up a book."

Wilbur rolled his eyes and started toward the tunnel exit. Techno's ears perked up, feeling a stab of shame.

He knew that eventually Tommy would be safe. His father would surely make sure he felt loved and provide him with a comfort that no sounder or brotherhood could provide.

But Wilbur's words, shrouded in a strange melancholy, made his fur stand up with anxiety. He was a man who didn't realize how much he had to lose, thinking he had buried everything he had already.

Niki was quickly becoming Techno's favorite person, and he couldn't hide it.

The girl was smart and observant. She knew when one of the younger members of their miscellaneous gang was hiding an injury, when Wilbur was tormented by the Phantoms' screams, when Quackity stepped aside, feeling quite out of place.

She was clearly a person who, at first glance, could be casually described as nice without paying much attention to her. It wasn't a façade - she did have a kindness in her heart that many people wouldn't think of, but it was more about her courage and tenacity.

She also somehow terrified Tommy and Tubbo, which Techno found funny at first - not because there was nothing to fear, after all, in the first conversation alone with her, he had the opportunity to discuss the weaponry he came to Pogtopia with. When he let her try his ax Niki wielded it as if it came naturally to her, which was surprising considering it was tailored to the Piglin's stature and weight, not human’s.

Bold, fierce, relentless, daring - Techno couldn't wait to see her fight.

He also appreciated her kindness and patience - the latter a trait definitely learned from the younger members of Pogtopia, because no matter how much Techno loved Tommy, he was a chaotic gremlin who loved to cause trouble to other people if it didn't lead to more serious consequences.

Tommy was laughing his head off when he caught them swapping recipes - Techno was noting every word she said, beaming at the idea of a new use for potatoes in his cooking excesses.

Eventually, however, the day of the attack arrived, sooner than anyone would have liked. Among their small army, additionally reinforced by Eret, who, if surprised by the presence of Techno, did not show it, floating like ashes in the Nether was paranoia caused by the mysterious traitor. 

Techno tried to bury his guilt as Tommy defended him, proudly puffing out his chest and declaring that he would never turn his back on them.

All but Wilbur, who refused to succumb to common sense, donned armor provided by one of the members of the neutral territory. Tommy was excited when he saw the gear intended for them, mentioning something about Sam.

But their enemies were much better clothed, equipped with weapons covered in enchantments and curses.

And that's how they found themselves in the Nether, following Techno. The Piglin strode confidently, ears pricked, glancing from side to side. They finally arrived at his house.

"Oh, that will come in handy!" Quackity shouted, picking up a golden sword hanging on one of the walls. Tommy winced slightly as he looked at his brother. Techno took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.

The gleaming blade was one of his horde's items. The whole group scattered around the house, inspecting its properties and taking some of them in their hands. If Techno hadn't controlled his instincts to the extent he was forced to by his former Bastion, he would have pounced on those humans, spilling their blood on his gold.

As Wilbur approached the shelf where the black feather lay, Technoblade was instantly at his side, grabbing his wrist painfully.

Tommy raised his eyebrows, looking at him with silent doubt. He found it hard to believe that Techno was going to let them all take his golden weapons and armor. No matter how human he seemed, he was still a Piglin, and his horde meant more to him than any human could understand.

He cleared his throat, drawing attention to himself.

"If you guys would stop stealing from me," His words were accompanied by an involuntary growl that he couldn't completely stop, "then I could get on with my actual plan."

Wilbur rolled his eyes and yanked his arm out of his grip.

"Are you that attached to these things? Then why were you going to give them to us then? We are at war, wasn't this vault supposed to help us?"

Technoblade grinned menacingly and proudly, puffed out his chest, and cleared his throat.

"Oh, this? It's not a vault." he moved the fur on the floor that served as a rug, revealing an underground passage. He jumped into the underground room without hesitation, only glancing for a moment at Tommy, who opened his eyes wide in amazement.

They all followed him; members of the revolution wary, with fresh memories of betrayal at Eret’s hands.

"This, is a vault!" The Piglin announced, turning around with outstretched arms, presenting the inside of the room. Lights came on in the floor, one by one illuminating chests filled with precious stones - which were of little value to the Piglin - and armor stands equipped with pure netherite armour.

The whole rebellion burst into noise; the uproar was deafening and full of disbelief. Techno laughed, watching with satisfaction as the group dispersed, trying on armor, watching spells engraved on them, testing weapons.

Tubbo grabbed a handful of emeralds, smiling as he ran between the shelves, shoving the riches into his already full pockets.

Niki picked up the sword, weighing it in her hand, watching the blade in fascination. She ran her fingers over it, feeling the shiver of spells vibrating beneath and through the metal.

Techno was helping Tommy put on the armor that fit him perfectly. It was light, didn't pinch; it was made for him.

They stood aside, watching the joy of their companions.

"It was a pretty cool reveal." Tommy half-whispered, smiling knowingly. Techno lowered his head and stamped, betraying his satisfaction with his words.

"Gentlemen, it looks like there's still hope!" Quackity shouted, clad in armor. He raised his sword and smiled sharply. "It's time to take L'manberg back and put Schlatt in his place!"

Techno looked around at the soldiers. Niki smiled as she and the others chanted for L'manberg. Fundy busied himself putting on his boots, trying on different ones, searching for the appropriate enchantments carved into the metal. Tubbo and Tommy shouted together, triumphant smiles on their faces, as if they had already won.

Only Wilbur stood back, in the shadow of the group. His arms were folded across his chest, and his face had an unidentifiable expression. He didn't put on his armor, instead remaining in his coat and cape. The Piglin was relieved to see the diamond sword strapped to his belt.

Even if he wasn't going to wear armor, he could still defend himself.

They set off towards Manberg, proud and sure, filled with hope.

But hope was a naive idea. Hope didn't win wars.

As Dream raised his hands in submission, ordering his and Schlatt's soldiers to stop their attacks, all the rebel members stood still, lost.

Tommy looked around, trying to catch Techno's or Wilbur's eye, but they both avoided his gaze, giving their full attention to the goat hybrid.

Beneath his armor was his standard green sweatshirt. He didn't have a scratch on him, and it was hard to tell if it was because he stayed away from the battlefield or because his skill in combat was superior to anyone else gathered together.

Wilbur burst out laughing as Dream announced that they were giving up.

"That's not your style." He stated, chuckling. The blond shrugged. His mask covered his face, hiding most of his emotions, but his body language revealed that he was relaxed. He hadn't expected an attack, and if he had, he knew he had nothing to fear.

"Well, fighting only makes sense if you have a leader, and Schlatt... Well, it's best if you see it for yourself."

He led them to the wreck of a van standing among the buildings. Technoblade winced as he smelled the pungent smell of the potions. Tommy entered the vehicle right after Wilbur. His gait was sure, soldierly. He straightened his back and closed his hand on the blade of his sword, but his gaze was gentle, nostalgic.

Their story would end where it began. There was something poetic about it, in a melancholic way.

Schlatt was half-lying on the ground, clutching a bottle in his hand. He narrowed his eyes and smiled lazily.

"Oh, how mighty have fallen." Wilbur said with an ironic smile. Tommy was at his side; his right hand, his vice, his brother.

"Oh, fuck you." Schlatt got up. He swayed and leaned against the wall, adjusting his jacket with one hand, the other still clutching the neck of the bottle. “Just look! All traitors are with us here! So glad they joined us! Maybe there's someone else who wants to stab me in the back?

"Stop talking, Schlatt. you lost. You are completely alone." growled Tommy. The president laughed hysterically, then spat at him.

"Fundy! You fucking traitor!" He screamed as he spotted the fox among the group. He smiled sharply and threw the bottle, which splashed right next to the hybrid's face. "If you're so brave, you should have fought me from the start, not hide as a spy like some coward."

"Shut up Schlatt, you're a hopeless president."

"At least I'm a real man, not a daddy's little boy, running over to him and hoping he might appreciate you for once!"

"Enough of this. Schlatt, you lost." Wilbur aimed his crossbow at him. Tommy looked at him nervously, but didn't move aside. "For the crimes committed against L'manberg and its citizens, you are sentenced to death." He announced loudly.

There was no justice in the verdict, not the real one. Schlatt could not defend himself, Wilbur's decision could not be vetoed. It had been an execution from the very beginning when they entered the Camarvan.

"We can get along, right?" Schlatt raised his hands, smiling nervously. Wilbur's hands tightened on the crossbow aimed between the president's eyes.

"Death is a merciful thing for you." He hissed between his teeth.

"I didn't take you for a monster, loverboy. Where is your artistic soul? Aren't musicians supposed to be sensitive and gentle? What happend to you?"

Schlatt was stalling, running away from the inevitable end. Wilbur ripped his beanie off his head, revealing horns and ears twin to his opponent's.

"You turned me into a monster." Niki covered her mouth with her hand, blinking rapidly to prevent the tears gathering in her eyes from dripping onto her cheeks. Quackity looked astonished, as did Eret, who pursed his lips into a thin line.

Tommy saw Tubbo flinch at the harsh words, digging his fingernails into his palm.

Schlatt burst into maniacal laughter.

"Oh, that's great! Comedy gold! Wilbur, the only person who did this to you is yourself. I hope you'll remember me every time you look in the mirror." He shook his head. "You are worse than me! I didn't even have to help you!."

Wilbur raised his crossbow and prepared to fire.

"Stop your nonsense. It's time for you to know justice-"

"Do you smell toast?" Schlatt interrupted him, frowning.

The rebels looked at each other, surprised by the sudden change in tone. Wilbur's hand trembled.

Before anyone could say anything, Schlatt fell to the ground with a hollow thud, trembling and twitching. His eyes rolled back and his chest stopped heaving.

He lay on the ground, his absent gaze fixed on Wilbur as if indicating his successor. His skin was adorned with small cuts from glass spilled on the floor.

"That was anti-climatic." The silence was broken by Techno, giving a dry voice of his opinion.

Wilbur stared at the corpse in front of him in disbelief.

"We won." he whispered. His hands were shaking. He released the crossbow from them, letting it fall beside the tyrant's legs. "We won!" He announced louder, distracting from the president's death.

The people of L'manberg, members of Pogtopia, shouted with him, cheering happily.

They ran outside, leaving the dictator's body behind.

Wilbur had long felt like a cuckoo of his family. Even in resemblance, he looked almost nothing like his father, while Tommy was a copy of him. He didn’t hare a keen admiration for the world, or a desire to see new places.

Instead, he wanted to leave behind something permanent, something that would be a monument to his life; that would last for millennia to come.

Maybe that was why Tommy found it so easy to trust Phil. His stubborn persistence in naive faith in his return, as if their family wasn't broken into tiny pieces impossible to put back together, may have been due to the similarities he shared with their father.

There was one thing Wilbur and Philza had in common that set them apart from Tommy. 

Tommy was honest and he didn't like lies. Always direct and loud, shouldering the burdens of others; maybe that's why Wilbur couldn't let him go. Tommy was everything he needed in a sick, obsessive way. Some part of him wanted his love; for him to look at his elder brother with pride and appreciation; another, somewhere deeper inside him, aware of how he hurt everyone around, wanted the teen to hate him with a burning passion.

For him to finally see the monster that Wilbur saw every time he looked at his reflection.

Like Philza, Wilbur knew how to lie by using pretty words and empty promises. Philza promised that he would always be there for them, that their family was his pride and greatest achievement, that they were all he needed; and he uttered these words looking longingly at the sky, planning his next long journeys.

Wilbur promised everything would be fine.

The lie tasted like ash on his tongue.

With a forced, practiced smile, he made Tommy president - another hard lesson; one of the last he was going to teach him. But Tommy didn’t accept it.

He handed his position back into his hands, asserting that he wasn't ready for the title yet. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilbur saw Technoblade looking at the boy with obvious pride.

Then Tommy turned to Wilbur, as if he wanted to rip his heart out on purpose. However, Wilbur made his decision. He mumbled something about anarchy, about not needing power anymore.

He pointed to Tubbo, who jumped in surprise, stammering and pointing a finger at himself with a silent question.

Another child soldier; another checkered piece on the board, sacrificed for a higher purpose.

Wilbur didn't turn around as he walked off toward the woods. He pushed his way through the crowd, not listening to the new president's speech.

He thought of the cuckoo's nest - cuckoos ruining other chicks; it was in their nature.

He stood in front of the button, touching its surface lightly.

"This is it. This is where the story ends." He sighed as relief flooded his body. “The thing I built this nation for doesn’t exist anymore! The thing I've been working towards- It's over."

"What are you doing?"

For a second, the world stood still. For a second, Wilbur was six years old, and his dad brought home Tommy, wrinkled and ugly, his face twisted and in tears, and his eyes so blue they rivaled the sky itself. For a second he lived in the moment when his father caught him trying to lift Tommy, even though his small arms couldn't support his weight.

Phil's words, however, were sharper, bordering on anxiety and threat.

Their father looked as he had many years earlier, when he had left home for the last time. Blond hair, blown by the wind, black wings, folded but ruffled. Hands ended with claws.

He had no sword or armor on him, as if he hadn't expected an attack, as if he saw no need to be careful.

As if he was in a hurry, and as he ran, he decided that weapons didn’t matter much.

"Phil?" he asked, uncertain, feeling like a small child being chastised by a disappointed father.

"What are you doing?"

"What? I? I am doing nothing! We just won and elected Tubbo president, and Schlatt is gone, so-"

"Oh, so where exactly are we now?" Philza crossed his arms over his chest and raised a dubious eyebrow.

Wilbur smiled nervously and looked around the room, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh, it's around L'manberg. You wouldn't know because you weren't here, but... It's complicated, geography and stuff."

"Mmm. In L'manberg, you said."

"Okay, I admit-" Wilbur looked at the button and put his head down for a moment. Philza stepped closer, confidently. The general was no threat to him. He didn’t see a maddened soldier in him, just his son.

Or rather, what's left of him.

"Phil, do you know what this button does?"

"I suppose." He stated dryly, looking at the sticks of dynamite scattered on the floor. Most of them had been cleared away and taken out by Quackity, but he had dropped a few as they left the room in a hurry.

"Have you heard the song, on the walls?" Summer in L'manberg, A bunch of soldier-friends huddled around the fire, watching the fireflies, humming to the tune Wilbur played on his guitar. There were no more marks on his hands. His music was far away.

He looked at his hands. They looked as if they had never been wounded by the strings as he played passionately for hours, to the delight of his friends, singing until his throat was sore.

Perhaps before a man began to die, his passions died first.

"It's just that there was a special place, but it's not there anymore."

"But it is there. You just won it back." Phil assured him. In his pocket was a letter from Dream, briefly summarizing the situation with Schlatt. The man didn't lose a second when he received it. Wilbur and Tommy hadn't written to him in years, and at first he understood - maybe they didn't know his address, maybe they were angry - the latter was evidenced by the ruins of their childhood home, left to be forgotten, with Phil's letters, never opened, piled up under the door.

He had not expected war , although he had heard rumors of it. When Dream notified him of the clash, he set out for the conflicted lands, unprepared; with nothing but a desire to help.

He placed his hands on Wilbur's shoulders, smiling softly. His son's lips quivered and his eyes filled with tears.

However, the moment was short-lived, interrupted by his furious scream and the slam of his fists against the wall.

"Phil, I'm always so close to pushing this button!" He fell to his knees, cowering on the ground. “I’ve been here so many times."

"And you want to blow it all up?"

"I think so." He admitted quietly, ashamed.

"You fought so hard. You were so strong." Philza spoke, offering him his arms. 

Wilbur fell into them. Even years later, he never stopped fitting into his father’s hold; like the puzzle piece.

Wilbur shivered as he hugged him tightly, momentarily ceasing to be a president, a general, or a soldier. For a while he was Wilbur, a boy with big dreams, who had had to grow up too fast, who loved music and picnics by the creek, and holding Sally's hand, and picking flowers while listening to Tommy's jokes.

"So... You had a manifestation, huh?" Phil spoke up, combing his hair carefully. He wasn't afraid to touch his horns, he didn't let go of his embrace.

For a moment, Wilbur wasn't a monster, just a man in his father's arms.

"I didn't necessarily want to." He said bitterly, spitting out the words as if they were poison. 

Phil was still holding him, as if one hug would wipe away years of hatred - for himself and for the world.

"Well, I think you can make it work. We can make you special jewelry, many people love to decorate their horns. They’re yours." He sighed softly. "It’s good to see you. You’re all grown up."

"I did grow up a long time ago." He stated. Phil ruffled his hair, and Wilbur laughed, slowly emerging from his embrace. The Avian looked at him with a kind smile, as if he didn't notice the monster that writhed under his skin.

Wilbur laughed, pushing his hand away.

"Phil!" he called. Slowly, however, he calmed down, and stood further, closer to the wall. 

"Phil, there was a saying. By a traitor, once part of L'manberg. I don't know if you've heard of Eret?"

"Yeah?"

"He had a saying” Wilbur smiled, looking Phil straight in the eyes. “It was never meant to be.”

He pressed the button.

"Oh my God. You didn't-” Phil jumped on him, hugged him and tucked him between his wings, shielding him from the blast. For a moment, the world was filled with a roar. "Oh my God! Wil! It's all gone!”

The room they stood in was open for all to see. Tommy stood in the distance, staring at them in disbelief. His lips formed in the name of their father.

The whole city was in ruins. The buildings that survived had empty window frames and shards embedded in the walls.

Wilbur took a deep breath and looked at Phil's wings. They were torn, half the feathers were missing, and the base of the right wing itself was damaged. It bent strangely and fell, unfit to fly. Wilbur stared at his handiwork.

Phil was never going to fly again.

"My L'manberg, Phil! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! If I can't have it, no one can!" He bowed and then hugged himself. He briefly made eye contact with Tommy, who stared at him in horror.

Phil walked over to him, opening his arms once more, but Wilbur shoved a sword into his hands instead.

"Kill me Phil. Kill me!" He screamed as his father backed away. "Kill me! Look, they all want you to!"

"You’re my son!"

"Kill me!"

"No matter what you-" Philza looked at Wilbur, who was kneeling before him like a prisoner awaiting execution. He looked at the sword, diamond, enchanted.

"It's not- Look! look! How much work went into it?” He pointed to the smoking crater. "Do it."

Philza pierced his chest with his sword, kneeling and embracing him.

"If only you could let go." He whispered, tears streaming down his face.

For the last time, Wilbur looked over at Tommy. The world was blurring, smoke obscuring the view. His brother stood on the edge of the crater he had created, screaming, but his words didn’t reach the other side.

The cuckoos were throwing other chicks out of their nests.

Wilbur made sure none of his family ever flew.

He smiled, thinking Sally would be proud of him.

Chapter Text

The blade of the sword pierced through Wilbur's chest smoothly, as if it had been made for that. There wasn’t much visible through the smoke. Black wings; one of them broken and bent in a gruesome way; silhouettes of two men, one shaking, one at peace.

Philza remembered the day Wilbur was born. He remembered the fear and disbelief, and that terrifying uncertainty the first time he picked him up. The dark-haired child hardly resembled him in any way, and it gave him a certain relief, difficult to explain to other parents, who were excited by the slightest similarities between them and their children.

“I just hope he doesn’t turn out like me.” He joked when someone at the village asked him why he wasn’t disappointed that there was no resemblance between them.

Immortals didn’t have happy endings. That's why the sight of the baby, so surprisingly human, brought tears to the man's eyes.

Wilbur seemed fragile as he whimpered and writhed in his embrace, reaching out for the earrings dangling from his ears.

But tragedies must have been hereditary, because just moments ago, Wilbur had been a little boy who loved music, and when Phil blinked, there was a man in his arms, in whom he could hardly see any remnants of his son.

Acrid smoke hung in the air, filling lungs of the soldiers standing around the crater. Dream's joyful cry could’ve been heard from the ruins of one of the buildings.

Tommy was panting heavily, choking on smoke that filled his lungs as he stared naively at Wilbur's immobile body, waiting for him to raise up.

It wasn't until Tubbo touched his shoulder that he realized his throat was sore from screaming

He couldn't take his eyes off the embracing pair. Philza sank to his knees, and Wilbur's body lay limp in his arms, lips twisted into a soft smile.

Tommy didn't recognize his father when the smoke from the explosion cleared enough to reveal the button room. He saw a monster with twisted wings, black like death herself, with unnaturally bright eyes and slender clawed hands. A moment passed as the monster began to take the familiar form of the person who had tossed Tommy up in the air many years earlier, making him dream of flying, but was quickly destroyed when a sword appeared in the monster's hand.

Philza did not hesitate to take away Tommy’s whole world, even though he promised to give it to him.

Tommy looked around. Niki was clutching her side, her hands blistered from burns. Quackity leaned against a broken wall, bending his leg so that it didn’t touch the ground. His left arm hung limply. Fundy was limping and coughing. Even Eret was covered in scratches and cuts from the glass of the building he'd been standing close to before the explosion.

On the other side of the precipice stood Technoblade, who managed to push Tommy off the podium, protecting him from the worst of injuries. His fur was matted with blood, but he stood firmly on his feet, tail swishing nervously.

Tommy forced himself not to look at Wilbur. Philza was still bent over him. Despite how far away they were, Tommy winced as he imagined the avian pulling the sword out from his chest.

He looked at Techno, but his sounder member avoided his gaze. Instead, he built two eerie-looking structures, adorning them with black skulls. He stood in front of them, clutching the missing skulls in his hands.

"Techno?" The teen's voice trembled, and amidst the yelling and other chaos, it was barely audible. However, the Piglin's ears twitched and his tail curled between his legs.

He puffed out his chest and straightened his ears; to those who didn't know him, his pose could’ve looked confident, even threatening, but Tommy knew the meaning behind every little gesture; the way he frowned when he was nervous, how he pricked his ears when he was about to do something he didn't want to do.

“You used me! You used me as a weapon to replace one tyrant with another!"

"We saved L'manburg!" Tubbo yelled, shielding Tommy, who stood stunned. Technoblade shook his head. A low growl escaped his throat.

"You've made a coup! All you did was start a new loop of violence!" He leaned towards Tommy.

The teen shook his head, gritting his teeth. He felt weird. Everything seemed distant. He was agitated and tired at the same time, and his heart was beating as fast as if he had run a marathon.

"Let me tell you a story, Tommy. The story of a man named Theseus. His country was in danger. And he sent himself forward into enemy lines. He slayed the minotaur and saved his city. And you know what they did to him, Tommy? They exiled him. He died in disgrace, despised by his people. Because that's what happens to heroes, Tommy."

"But he saved everyone." Tubbo interjected. He bit his lip. The bandages covering half of his face were dirty and tattered.

A shadow appeared behind the two friends. Technoblade looked at the avian who had left Wilbur's body and walked over to the two teenagers. His wings, tattered and broken, were spread out, as if they would make him bigger, as if he were a bird of prey trying to scare off a predator from his flock.

"But if you want to be a hero, Tommy? That’s fine."

"Techno, no. I don't want to be a hero! I just wanted a home! I-"

The Piglin shook his head. The teen stared at every, even the smallest movement. Because his attitude and mannerism betrayed that he regretted what he was about to do. Tommy saw Techno glance quickly at Dream. Others might have thought it was just him looking around, detecting potential foes, but Tommy was used to reading Piglin's inexpressive face.

"You want to be a hero, Tommy? Then die like one!"

The sound of the double blast and the blinding light disoriented the wounded and exhausted rebels. Tommy grabbed Tubbo's arm, knocking him to the ground as a projectile whizzed his way.

Both boys were shielded by black wings—although they did a poor job, because they were exposed to other attacks by the patches of missing feathers.

Tommy looked up, meeting Philza's face. His jaw was clenched, his hair disheveled and dirty from the dust of debris that clung to his sweaty body. His cheeks were covered with tiny feathers, some slightly charred. His irises were unnaturally bright, icy blue. He twitched and turned his head to the side, a reflex far from a human one.*

Tommy stared at the stranger's face, seeing more of a beast than someone who was supposed to look after him.

Even the gesture of encircling him and Tubbo with his wings, creating a dome protecting them from the blast, felt overwhelming and terrible, as if they were captured by a dangerous predator.

Tommy was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud explosion and a scream.

"What is this?" Tubbo asked in a quavering voice, peering out from behind a cascade of bloody feathers at the monsters floating in the air.

"Withers. One blow from them puts such a high level of poison into your system that even if you don't die, you will feel it for years to come."

"Fuck." Tommy pushed him away, grabbed his sword, and charged at the monster. He moved confidently, with trained agility. "Don't get hit, Sapnap's blood is nicer than what they throw!" He shouted at the combatants.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Techno disappear into the forest. He felt relief, quickly followed and replaced by burning anger and a sense of betrayal.

Niki rolled to the side, dodging the skull-like projectile whizzing towards her. The place where it hit began to wilt and wither. Black veins spread across the earth and stone, killing everything around them. The earth was dying, turning into a gray patch, devoid of color and life.

Quackity had trouble escaping. As he jumped over the remains of the fence hanging between the gaps in the ground, he fell, his leg making a terrible cracking sound. Bone pierced his skin and a ragged trouser leg.

Sapnap shielded him from the attack, diverting the Wither’s attention to the dying cat lying among the rubble of the buildings.

When the monster attacked it, the animal began to rot and disintegrate at an accelerated rate, and a black rose sprouted from its body. It looked as if it fed on its muscles - its roots, connected to veins and nerves, wrapped around the bones, growing as the cat became less and less. After a while, the only thing left was a skeleton with a flower growing out of it.

The wither glided on, and Quackity, who had been screaming in pain moments before, stared in horror at the pile of bones. Sapnap was shaking, but he managed to put a swashbuckling smile on his face.

"You're lucky it wasn't you. Roses don't seem to be your type." he gasped. Hysterical laughter escaped from Quackity’s throat. His hands were clenched on the grass.

"Shut up and help me."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'm not a doctor."

"That's why you're lucky my bone is broken and not shattered." He growled. He took off his hoodie and shoved the sleeve into his mouth to keep himself from biting his tongue.

Sapnap looked as if he wished he'd jumped under the Wither's projectile.

"You owe me some good fucking dinner. No. An entire restaurant. And therapy.”

From behind a makeshift gag, Quackity mumbled what sounded like a few unpleasant insults before a muffled cry of pain escaped his throat.

Tommy raised his sword and jumped on the monster, smashing one of its heads. The crack was audible and noticeable - the eye sockets stopped glowing, and the creature hovered with a slight tilt, as if dead ballast weighed it down.

A roar was heard in the distance, followed by a hiss and a cry of pain. One of the Withers had fallen.

The teen turned his attention away from his opponent to see Eret pluck a star from the chest of the crumbling monster. It was glowing in his hand and pulsating like a heart. The monster's shattered ribs began to crumble to ashes. Soon there was no trace of it, except for a gray stain on the grass where it had been lying a moment ago.

The sound of fireworks brought his attention back to where it was needed. A petard in the colors of L'manburg exploded on the beast's head when it opened its mouth to attack the blonde.

He felt a twinge of satisfaction - Technoblade clearly watched the fight and intervened when Tommy was in danger.

He didn't know why the Piglin would do that, but November sixteenth was clearly intended to be a day that was impossible to understand.

Phil plunged his sword into the monster's eye socket, knocking it down and killing it as Tommy stared in disbelief at the tree line.

Tommy turned towards the glow of light - the avian took out a star from the broken ribcage of the Wither, identical to the one Eret had extracted.

The man tilted his head to the side, birdlike - a sudden twitch, far from a smooth tilt to express a question in the Piglin language - and focused his attention on Tommy.

His clothes were covered in blood, and he clutched a sword in his right hand. His forearms turned black halfway, getting darker and darker to the clawed fingers. His wings were broken, bent in an unnatural way, a horrifying caricature of what once was.

Blue eyes, unnatural, inhuman, uncanny and unsettling. Feathers sprouting from his cheeks and mingling with his hair.

His lips were moving, but Tommy couldn't hear a word. Suddenly all he could’ve seen was Wilbur standing in front of him, just next to the ghoul with the familiar face of his king lost father, staring blankly at Tommy.

His chest was whole, and after a while avian pierced it again and again, without making any sound-

Tommy woke up panting heavily. His heart was beating at a dizzying pace.

It had only been a few hours since the explosion. The crater was no longer smoking, and the ground had cooled. Sam and Bad tended to the wounded, definitely content to belong to a neutral faction.

Some of the rebels did not wait for the sunset, going to sleep in the first safe place they found as soon as they managed to get shreds that could’ve been used as blankets - some of them slept in worse conditions before.

Tommy looked at Tubbo, who was snoring irregularly. His friend frowned and mumbled something in his sleep before rolling over on his good side, taking the rest of the blanket he shared with Tommy.

Wrapped in a cocoon, he turned and sighed. His breathing evened out and his whole body went still.

Tommy watched his chest for a moment with growing uneasiness. He lay on his back only when he noticed that it was rising.

He fixed his gaze on the ceiling. It was cracked, as were the walls, but it remained stable. The window frames were empty, the glass splattered on the floor and the couch that stood by the window.

He turned his head to the side, focusing on the avian dozing in the corner.

Philza followed him for the rest of the day, but he didn't say a word - and so didn’t Tommy, who, as soon as the withers were defeated, went looking for Tubbo and helped others find supplies and tend to the wounded.

As Tommy dragged Tubbo to one of the better-preserved buildings, his father followed him silently, sitting against the wall and watching them.

Both friends were too tired to talk. Tubbo tried to console Tommy after Wilbur's death and Techno's betrayal, but the teenager responded with a growl and a chain of curses, and rolled over on his side.

He got up and headed for the exit: a huge gap in the eastern wall. He walked slowly to the edge of the crater.

"Tommy! We found the whole anthem, do you want to join us?" Quacky waved at him. His leg was bandaged and placed between two boards for stability. A guitar rested in his lap, one of its strings replaced with a fishing line.

Fundy sat next to him, timidly tuning a familiar instrument - Wilbur’s old guitar, worn and scratched but still functional. The redhead dropped his ears low and twirled his tail around his leg.

Tommy shook his head and gave them a thumbs up, going back to his night walk.

Several hours passed. Mourning didn't always start right away. He heard hopeful promises that L'manburg would be rebuilt, better than before.

He climbed into the room.

Wilbur's body was covered with a charred flag. Only his shoes were sticking out from under it. On his legs were different socks - one yellow with blue sheeps, the other plain black. Tommy smiled exhaustedly and nudged his brother's legs.

"You can't even get dressed without me, can you?"

He reached for the edge of the flag, trying to expose the man's face, but stopped himself. Finally, he let go of the material and lay down next to him, his right shoulder touching Wilbur's left.

He folded his hands across his chest, in the gesture of the dead.

Even the ceiling was engraved with a verse of the anthem, partly scratched off by the explosion.

"You're a complete asshole." He informed Wilbur, clenching his fists. "I think I hate you now."

Tommy got up, knelt, and revealed his brother's face. He clenched his teeth.

Wilbur's hybrid features were exposed - sheep's ears and curled horns, the same color as his locks. He didn't look like a monster, though he believed he was. Maybe Tommy was starting to believe it too.

In the end, it didn’t even matter. Nobody cares about what he was. All dead were equal anyway.

"You weren't supposed to leave me alone, you fucking idiot." Tommy growled, feeling a sudden surge of anger mixed with deep sadness.

"Tommy?"

Philza's steps were light. The tapping of his claws on the stone floor gave him away. He was clutching a blanket, tattered and singed, but still relatively well preserved.

The teenager's face contorted in displeasure.

"Hey mate, I don't think you should be alone right now."

"I'm not alone." Tommy nodded at Wilbur. Phil jerked, a shadow of pain crossing his face. Tommy was pleased to see his unhappy expression.

“I know… I know it's too late. Wilbur wasn’t himself. Wilbur who loved you... He wasn't here. Please, I don't want to lose another son."

Tommy's eyes hardened. His body trembled with anger. His hands itched to hit something. He dug his nails into his palms.

"I don't even know you." He mumbled through clenched teeth. Phil's head twitched in a birdlike way again.

He seemed to be the same person Tommy had seen the day before he disappeared for years.

But Tommy wasn’t the same boy his father had left at home.

Sometimes mourning was not obvious. It was easy to cry and miss the dead. Unfortunately, sometimes the living were equal to them, buried in the past instead of cold ground.

In their memories of each other, Tommy and Phil had a picture of each other created. Philza stayed the same, fitting Tommy's imagination while also standing out in a strange, disturbing way. Because his face had been blurred by the years, the sound of his voice was completely lost, and Tommy didn't notice it until he was face to face with him.

The man in front of him was a stranger. His tone of voice was different, his eyes too cold, his claws too sharp.

Philza imagined his younger son in many ways, thinking that he must have gotten down to be doing something creative, artsy - he always had the star map he made in his pocket.

Watching the teen smile as he realized his words had hurt him, he thought about how many versions of his children he had lost forever.

Change had always been part of human nature, often ugly and careless, but constant and certain.

"I want to be your father. I couldn't help Wilbur, but I can be here for you." He promised. The teen’s lips twitched.

"You didn't even try! Wil needed help, and you got rid of him at the first opportunity, because it was easier that way! Do you really want to be my father? Or maybe you just can’t get away anymore so you need something to do to make you feel better? Well, surprise! I'm not a fucking charity work."

"I know it's hard to understand. I didn't want to do it."

"But you did. You weren't here! You weren't here when I was shot, when Wilbur was shot, and we were completely alone! You weren't there when Sally died or when we met Tubbo! You haven't been here all my life, why do you suddenly have the right to march in?"

Philza fell silent. Tommy turned red in the face. He was breathing heavily and irregularly.

Wilbur lay at his feet, motionless, pale and emaciated.

"Help me bury him."

"What? Tommy, we don't have shovels-"

"So we'll use our hands." Tommy took Wilbur's body, wincing as he felt the blood-clotted fabric stick together.

Wilbur was dead, Techno was gone. Tubbo needed no extra stress. Fundy had lost his father.

Maybe that's why Tommy felt remorse for trying to throw away his. Phil was the only option he had left.

They dug until almost dawn, covered in dirt and sweat. Tommy's fingernails were broken and scratched, and the skin on his hands was torn.

They buried Wilbur, wrapping him in a flag. Tommy took his coat. The back was pierced through, stained with dried blood, but the fabric was of good quality - it was a gift from Techno, after all.

The clothes smelled unbelievably. Tommy sat down beside the grave, clutching the cloth in his hands.

"You're not crying." Phil noticed as he sat down next to him. He tried to extend his wing to embrace Tommy, but hissed in pain as soon as he made the slightest movement.

The teen shrugged.

"I don't cry, remember?"

They sat in silence watching the sunrise. Birds jumped on the branches of the trees, welcoming the new day. From the hill they could see the crater around which people were gathering. Some exchanged food, some chatted lively.

November sixteenth passed, leaving behind scars and gaps. Life went on.

“I really want to try. I promise." Tommy grunted in response.

  Maybe a day earlier Tommy would have been happy with such an oath.

 In a perfect world, Phil came to Pogtopia, helped them recapture L'manburg from Schlatt, met Techno, and helped Wilbur. In a perfect world, November sixteenth was just another ordinary day spent on decorating a new home; Tommy would show Techno how to plant flowers, Wilbur would play guitar, and for every mistake he would get a mud ball in the face. Philza would tell them about his travels, spreading his wings in a gust of excitement, offering his sons their comfort.

But November sixteenth happened, Wilbur was dead, and Tommy could see nothing more in Phil than a monster who had taken the one person who had always been there for him.

"We should go back." He mumbled, ignoring the way Phil's bandaged wings drooped, as did the feathers on his face, puffed up a moment earlier in confidence.

"Tommy, Wilbur..." He bit his lip and the teen flinched as he noticed how unnaturally sharp his teeth were. Philza gave a birdlike curtsey again.

A stinging realization crossed the boy's mind that this was how everyone must have perceived Techno - as an uncontrollable beast that could attack at any moment. Tommy tried not to think that the sight of his father made him fearful.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." He said instead of finishing the previous thought. Tommy shrugged.

"Nothing new."

The sun was climbing lazily across the sky, painting it with all sorts of colors. In its glow, surrounded by pink and orange, Philza didn't look so scary. His eyes were sunken, surrounded by dark circles. The cuts on his skin, the bandages on his wrist and arm, peeking out from under his clothes, were normal, human.

Wilbur always wanted Philza's attention. Tommy too, but not in that obsessive way.

Wilbur was gone, and Tommy might have turned down something his brother wanted most.

Perhaps it was guilt. He turned back, offering neither forgiveness nor understanding, but a small olive branch.

"Now you have no other choice. You’ll be here."

Phil smiled gratefully before joining Tommy on the march towards the crater.

Two weeks passed before Tommy began to feel anger building up and a sense of loss of control. He had not received a word from Technoblade, no explanation or apology. Everyone around agreed that this was a touchy subject they didn't want to bring up, because when Quackity suggested it was always only a matter of time, since the Piglins were incapable of human empathy, Tommy smashed his chair against the table before walking out of their makeshift meeting room.

Everyone seemed to agree that Technoblade simply reverted to his instincts that urged him to hurt people. An ordinary animal that managed to learn tricks to appear human.

Tommy was furious at Techno's, at Tubbo's dubious looks as he tried to defend his friend, at Lmanburg’s members pitying looks, at Niki's sad smile; and at Phil, who interpreted his outbursts either as a need of revenge on the Piglin, or a childish naivety that the creature could form a real bond with him.

For a moment, Tommy allowed himself to doubt. But the years they spent together getting to know each other and their culture weren't fake. Techno, despite wishing him dead in his speech, protected him from the Withers, not allowing them to be a real threat to him even for a moment.

Whatever happened to him made him more expressive - pupils; the muscles that allowed him to move his eyebrows - Tommy knew how to read his monotonous facial expressions and body language, he had spent almost his entire life learning it. The changes that took place in Techno only made it easier for him.

He saw the Piglin peeking past him, looking out for Phil, probably recognizing him from Tommy's stories and his drawings. He attacked only when the avian was close enough to cover him immediately.

As Wither approached when Tommy focused on Eret, Techno distracted it.

However, he still did what he did. And left Tommy alone.

Anger built up inside him slowly but surely, building with each passing day. He tried to redirect it, trying to burn it down using manual labor; he carried beams to rebuild houses, he created a garden where he planted enough vegetables to feed former rebels.

He wrestled with Sapnap when he got the chance, jumping on him by surprise when he visited Quackity. He ignored his sympathetic looks.

Sapnap was one of the few people who didn't treat him like he was made of porcelain and glass. He called him names, got into fights with him, and was ready to distract him in the way Tommy needed him to - through controlled violence.

But the anger always came back, and more and more Tommy found himself losing patience and getting angry with his friends.

Tubbo was understanding, but every time Tommy growled at him that he didn't need pity, his face contorted into an unfamiliar grimace.

There was also another problem - Philza, who took to heart his decision to turn into the most present father he could be. He followed Tommy like a shadow, asking his opinion on various, even the most trivial, topics.

"Do you still like cows? Maybe we'll get one just for you as soon as we finish our house. Oh, maybe we can make a bunk bed. Your room will have red walls just like in the old house. We need to plan the layout of the rooms. Would you like a balcony? What type of wood would work best with red…”

"Help." Tommy mouthed exaggeratedly, and Niki, assembling the pier railings, smiled cheekily without offering to help him. Tommy shook his head, letting her know his displeasure.

Phil stopped, greeted her, then went back to continuing his monologue about their house.

They ate all their meals together - especially after the avian realized that Tommy wasn't paying much attention to his diet, often eating one charred steak all day.

The teenager tried to suppress any impulse that would betray how uncomfortable he felt around Phil. His reflexes were too birdlike, as were the sounds he often made. Laughter was mixed with cawing, and when surprised, he let out a long whistle. His eyes were strange, too bright, too inhuman.

Philza tried, but Tommy, with his growing anger, only felt more and more overwhelmed.

So he was relieved when Philza agreed to spend the day with Fundy to get to know him better. When he found out he was his grandson, he immediately set about offering him a room, promising to take care of every little detail he wanted in the house.

The fox looked pleased with the avian's attention, giving Tommy a grateful smile, as if Tommy had done him a favor and not the other way around.

So the teenager found himself alone, sitting on the path and breathing a sigh of relief.

He was knocked to the ground by the sudden weight. The giant white wolf that had jumped on his back busied itself with licking his face.

"Fran, get up! Stop making a bad first impression!"

Sam patted his thigh, and the wolf obediently trotted in his direction. Creeper scratched her head, smiling resignedly.

"I've told her too much about you."

"That's a typical reaction to my awesomeness." Tommy informed him. His face lit up in a genuine smile. Sam nodded to the patch of grass next to him.

"Can I join?"

"Sammy-boy, you ask stupid questions." Tommy patted the planks that formed the path. The man sat down, leaning on one set of hands, the other stroking Fran, who sat on his lap. Tommy joined in petting her belly.

"How are you doing?"

"I don't know. Phil, uh, dad , he follows me around all the time. He wants to bond and shit like that. Pretty nice I guess.”

"Uh-huh"

"Don't uh-huh me, pussy." Tommy nudged him with his elbow, and Sam laughed. The corners of his eyes crinkled.

"It's good to know that some things don't change." He cleared his throat and looked at the teen a little more closely. "Are you overwhelmed by this?"

"I guess." Tommy shrugged, trying to be nonchalant. "You know, all my life I thought he was cool and awesome and I wanted to be like him and I believed he was cool even though he left us. And now he's back and he killed my brother, and he wants to play fucking house." Fran nudged his arm with her muzzle and rolled over, placing most of her body on Tommy's legs. "I feel so fucking good. Just great. I've fantasized about Phil being a great father all my life, and it wasn't until Wilbur's death that I woke up from those dreams."

Tommy began to scratch Fran's belly and behind her ears, to which she responded by licking his hand.

"I miss him. No one even wanted to give him an official funeral, and they arranged one for Schlatt. And Phil keeps pretending everything's okay, but... Fuck, I don't know what it's like to have a dad. Wilbur was basically the closest thing to that. So are you, but if you comment on that, I'll gouge your eyes out."

"Noted."

"I don't know, I'm a copy of Phil and I hate it. Everything overwhelms me and the emotions are a mess and don't make any fucking sense."

Sam was silent for a moment, letting Tommy vent his frustrations. He was the kind of person who was easy to trust, and Tommy needed an adult to listen to him.

He looked at the boy. His hair was blond and curly and fell unevenly over his forehead. He had a small scar on his cheek. His eyes were blue, but in a warm way, like the sky on a summer afternoon.

"I don't think you look like Phil’s copy." He mused. Tommy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and Sam's heart broke at the relief in his eyes. “You don't look like Wilbur either. I think you are your own person, and you have yet to discover what that means."

"Thanks, big man."

Sam’s smile was cheerful and kind..

"Tell me about Wilbur. What's your favorite memory of him?" He offered. Tommy’s smile seemed to glow like thousands of stars in the night sky as he plunged into the story of his brother’s first official date with Sally, ending so humiliatingly that Tommy had to convince him against changing his identity.

He quickly moved on to other stories; about wandering through the Nether, about meeting Tubbo. Sam listened to him with a friendly smile, asking questions from time to time when he felt something was left unsaid.

Slowly, Tommy's anger dissolved, replaced by good memories, laced with pain and sad nostalgia, but still joyful.

“Techno and Wilbur hated each other, they were rivals and shit. Every time Wilbur did something stupid, Techno would pull out a sack of potatoes - don't ask me from where, he just always had one on the sidelines - and throw it at him. And believe me, big man, Techno has a great eye and fantastic aim." He assured him, gesticulating vigorously. Fran rolled onto her side, displeased with the lack of attention. She whined loudly, her tongue sticking out as Sam stroked her chin.

Tommy waved his arms, laughing coarsely at the thought of the two's pointless arguments.

"He learnt that from me, you know? I taught him everything I know. People look at him and say: mimimi, how did you get so strong? What's your secret? And he replies: I was trained by the greatest of men, Tommy, innit. Oh, I hope one day I'll be as cool as him!" He threw his hands up and dropped dramatically to the grass.

Sam pricked up his ears and let out a low hiss of amusement.

"You seem to be close." He said, raising his eyebrows. Tommy blinked, surprised at the lack of accusation or denial in his voice.

"Yes, um. Fuck, it's complicated, but Techno’s my brother, you know? I know everyone thinks he was just waiting for an opportunity to hurt as many people as possible, but I know him, okay? Nobody knows him like I do. He's not a monster."

Sam nodded. He looked down, focusing on Fran, who was licking his hand.

"You're right, no one knows him like you do. Maybe you're right. After all, the Withers didn't hurt anyone, and they could have finished us all very easily." Tommy pushed himself into a sitting position. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth slightly open.

"Right? It doesn’t make sense! If only someone would fucking listen to me!"

"Well, maybe I'm not that important and I don't know everything, but I can do it."

"That's why you're the greatest of men, Sam. You're my favorite father figure slash big brother."

Sam ruffled his hair. His body was covered with freckles in various shades of green. After going out into the sun, despite it being November, more of them had appeared.

"Come on, I thought you could help me with one of my projects. I know you're all busy rebuilding L'manburg, but you look like you need a job a little further from the crater."

"Nooo, manual work. Don't you know child labor is illegal? You're taking advantage of me after our bonding moment? I didn't know you were evil."

"Ah, so you are a child? "

"I am not! Fuck you! What do you want me to do?" Tommy's face turned red, blushing even more under Sam's kind gaze. The creeper hybrid nodded towards the path.

It was overgrown by various plants, some of the planks were rotten or cracked, some buried under dirt.

“It would be good if the path was cleared. I thought it might be nice if I replaced it with a new one and lengthened it to lead to L'manburg. Easier access for new settlers. I need you to pull out all the weeds."

"It's such a pathetic job." Tommy groaned and rolled his eyes. Sam stood up, pushing Fran off himself, and brushed her fur off his trousers.

"You don't have to help me, you have a choice. I can handle it by myself."

"Shut up, of course I will help. You couldn't have done it without me." Tommy interrupted him, getting up from the ground as well. He looked at dandelions sprouting from cracks in some of the planks. "You need the help of the Weeds Exterminator Tommy. Weed killer is my fifth name, you know? Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Weed-Killer. The latter is written together."

"Good to know." Sam assured him as he walked slowly towards Ponk's house. He dug a hoe and gardening gloves out of one of his chest. “They should be good, Ponk rarely uses them because all he grows are lemons. They shouldn't be offended."

"Big S, I'm pretty sure Ponk hates me."

"Ah, I'm sure that’s not true. If necessary, I'll tell him that you agreed to help me and it was all my idea."

Tommy grimaced in a comically exaggerated way. He shook his head and backed away from the man's territory, kicking one of the lemons on the ground as he went.

"Ew, Sam, talking about your affair in front of a minor? I thought I knew you better."

Though Sam let out an exhausted sigh, on his face was a genuine smile. He rolled his eyes and followed Tommy, shouting empty threats after him.

Before they could look back, the whole day had passed. Tommy cursed under his breath as splinters and thorns got into his hands despite his gloves, being carefully pulled out by Sam, who maneuvered the tweezers as if his life depended on it.

The work was monotonous and surprisingly light, perhaps because the autumn rains made the ground soft, perfect for easily uprooting plants.

As he bid Sam farewell, calling after him to have fun on his date with Ponk, mocking him in a high-pitched voice, his chest felt oddly light.

Even when he sat down to dinner, his mood remained consistently pleasant. Anger and irritation still lurked around the corner, but working on the path seemed to quench them.

Or maybe it was Sam's patience, and his willingness to listen.

He sat down at the table, staring at a dish of porridge poured with some kind of sauce.

Philza was not the best cook; his meals were supposed to be filling. Tommy couldn't remember him ever being obsessed with healthy eating when he was a child - he was rather indifferent to it, bringing his sons candy himself - but since he came back he seemed to pay special attention to the fact that the meals he prepared were healthy.

Tommy tried to get seconds, receiving a happy smile in return; the sort of smile parents give to small children when they've done something right.

Before irritation could blossom, Phil reached for the platter himself - made of clay, two days after the explosion, like the rest of the dishes they used.

"So, how was your day?"

"Maybe you first, I'm eating now." Tommy muttered, devouring his portion. Philza hesitated, then nodded.

Tommy glanced at his face - eyes too bright and too cold, teeth too sharp - wondering if he had always looked like that. Dangerous.

“Fundy is a very nice young man. After finishing the pier and part of his house, we went fishing."

“ A nice young man ; you sound old when you say it like that." The teen snorted. The avian shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Oi, you little shit. How was your day?"

"I was with Sam. He's working on a path, so I helped him because I'm wonderful and generous like that. He wouldn't be able to do it without me, he has absolutely no hand for plants, even pulling them out. He was helpless until I came to his aid." He smiled broadly. “He wants to extend the path to make it easier to get to L'manburg. I think we could improve it somehow. It's perfect, of course, but maybe he could add redstone powered lights or something. Sam is great at redstone, he's the best engineer I know."

"Oh, Sam’s one of your friends? I guess I haven't met him yet?"

"He's neutral, he's not part of L'manburg, but he's been helping us. It's cool. He can be such a dad sometimes."

Philza collapsed at these words, losing his enthusiasm. He smiled, but it was a wry smile, devoid of joy or excitement. His feathers ruffled as if he was trying to look menacing.

"Oh. It's good that you have such a good friend, mate."

“Yeah, Sam is fucking cool. And he has four arms! And a dog! It's probably the best thing about him, that he has Fran. I finally met her!”

Philza let out a long whistle, though it quickly started fading away as he noticed that Tommy had stopped telling his story. He cleared his throat, flustered.

"Well, you've always loved animals, so I'm not surprised that a domesticated wolf has stolen your heart." He laughed, strangely touched. "We can find you a pet if you want." He proposed. Tommy burst out laughing.

“Nutpig would be fucking jealous. She’s territorial. She barely tolerated Wilbur."

Phil flinched at the mention of his second son, but kept a polite smile on his face.

"Oh, is that your dog? Or any other animal? We can bring them to L'manburg, I can build a cozy patio where it would have its own corner.”

"I'm pretty sure bringing a Hoglin from the Nether to the Overworld isn't the best idea, old man."

"BRINGING WHAT?"

Tommy laughed in response, leaning back and forth in his chair until it clattered to the ground. Phil stared at him with his mouth open.

"You're kidding."

“I spent many years alongside Nutpig, she is a very calculating and responsible young lady. Sometimes she lets me ride on her back."

Phil's feathers were ruffled and his wing - the one that wasn't all that broken - had partly unfolded. He rose from his chair, reaching for Tommy, who held his breath for a moment.

The joyful atmosphere and delight at the shock on his father's face were gone. For a moment, the fork in the man's hand looked like a weapon, not cutlery.

The avian noticed a change in his mood; he sank back into his chair and put his fork on the table. He smoothed the ruffled feathers with his hand. When he noticed that Tommy's gaze was focused on his claws, he placed his hands on his knees, hiding them under the table top.

"Er, that's right. Nutpig. When I was six, she attacked me. You know, Hoglins and their territories." He deftly avoided Techno's role in the story. "I met her some time after that. A ghast was attacking her, and they're usually neutral to other creatures, so… well, that's how it turned out. She must have sniffed out how great I am."

"Probably."

Tommy got up from the floor and sat down at the table again. He picked at his food, not particularly interested in it. The conversation stopped flowing, and soon Phil had collected the dirty dishes to wash, and Tommy had gone to his room with a rising feeling of anger in his chest.

He closed the door, then opened the window and jumped out onto the roof of the neighboring building. He slid deftly onto the balcony, jumping from it to the next. Finally, after several minutes of jumping and climbing, he grabbed the edge of the roof of the building he was standing on and threw open a half-open window.

Tubbo didn't take his eyes off the papers, pointing his middle finger at him. Tommy returned the gesture smoothly, settling himself comfortably on the windowsill.

The brunet looked better and better every passing day, although his new position clearly weighed down on him. He was wearing a green shirt, with a blue and red patch on the elbows where it must have been scorched in the fire after the explosion. Some people were lucky enough to save their clothes. The damaged ones went to Niki or Tommy to sew them up in their spare time.

His horns were visible, polished, and well-groomed—with the help of Quackity, who was getting bored of sitting on the side all the time and had made it a personal challenge to find all the books he could on caring for young hybrids and their needs.

He used Karl's library, whom Tommy had managed to meet a few times near the crater. With a broken leg and a lot of other injuries, Quackity couldn't even afford to walk on crutches, so he used Sapnap to carry him around, the man running with a grimace from one place to the next.

A chain hung around Tubbo's neck, to which was attached an old and slightly scratched compass.

"Geez, where did you get that old shit from?" Tommy asked, tilting his head to get a better look. Tubbo waved at him.

“We both know that you have yours in the enderchest and you take care of it as if it’s sacred, boss man. You polish it like it's a wish-fulfilling lamp."

"No evidence, no crime." He sat cross-legged and leaned his back against the window. "What are you doing?"

"I'm losing faith in humanity." The brunet mumbled, turning the document to the other side. “I am trying to write down all the laws and bills and sort them. If we have a legitimate constitution, it will be easier to establish trade links with other territories."

"Boring shit then."

"Boring shit" He agreed, leaning back and stretching.

Tommy picked up one of the documents, quickly grabbing a pen and correcting something.

Tubbo glanced at the paper.

"Oh, I didn't even notice. Thanks."

"No problem." Despite the nonchalance in his voice, Tommy seemed pleased with the compliment. Tubbo frowned.

"Are you possessed or something? Your handwriting doesn't look that nice. I know how you write. And you write as if you should never hold a pen in your hand."

"Oh fuck off!" Tommy pushed him with his foot. "My handwriting is beautiful, you just don't appreciate me."

"You corrected it in italics. I didn't think you knew what it is."

Tommy gave him the middle finger, whining about being misunderstood and unappreciated.

“Wilbur required me to write well. As his right-hand man, I had to sign documents and he didn't want my signature to look too childish, you know."

Tubbo put the papers on the desk, ignoring the pile that was forming on it. The light from the lamp on it illuminated the room; it was unfinished, the walls were raw, the floor was not entirely paved, and his bed was just a mattress stuffed with straw and feathers, pushed up against the wall. Instead of bedding, he had a rolled-up sweater and two flags sewn together, poor imitations of a pillow and a blanket.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Tommy turned red in the face. He exhaled loudly and let out a squeal of displeasure, but quickly caught himself in an almost instinctive reaction, and shook his head, cutting it off and forcing a smirk on his face.

"Emotions are for pussies, I'm simply too massive and powerful for something so tri-vial."

"I thought emotions were cool and showed courage and maturity?" His friend's eyebrow went up. Tommy half-lay down on the windowsill and busied himself trying hard to push him off the chair with his foot.

"Well, yes, but I'm too huge for that."

"Whatever you say."

"I'm saying. And I'm right. Tubbo, someday I'll enlighten you with my knowledge of manhood. And women. One day you'll be as great as I am."

"Of the two of us, I look more masculine. Have you seen my extra manly scars?"

Tommy gasped, lost his balance, and slid off the sill, snagging his foot on Tubbo's chair and knocking him over just as he landed with a thud on the ground.

"I don't believe you're trying to assassinate the president."

"It's one of my many talents."

Tubbo grabbed him by the calf and pulled him towards him, for which he was hit in the face with a crumpled ball of paper, which Tommy had chosen as a weapon.

They wrestled on the floor for a while, pushing and pulling back to the ground as one tried to get up. Eventually, Tubbo collapsed, but not before he managed to pin Tommy down with his body, preventing him from moving.

"You lost."

“I never lose. I just took pity on you to lower your guard." Tommy panted, clumsily trying to push the teen off him. Tubbo gave up at last, stood up and offered his hand.

Tommy dusted himself off and began to pace the room as Tubbo went back to work.

"I don't know what to do with Phil. He’s my hero. Or I think so? But when I look at him sometimes… Uh, Tubbo, do you feel like there's something wrong with him?”

"What do you mean?" Tubbo muttered, squinting at the print. Tommy shrugged.

"He seems - you know I'm invincible and brave. But there's something uncanny about him."

"Are you afraid of him?" Tubbo looked up. Tommy squirmed, shifting from foot to foot under his gaze. "Tommy, boss man, Phil seems normal. Maybe a little overwhelming? A mother hen and all that.”

"You're right, that's probably it. I'm not used to having someone watching over me like this, am I? I was always too big for that."

"Whatever you say. Sorry, but I have to deal with this. Glad you dropped by!”

Tommy cleared his throat and walked over to the window, suddenly strangely resigned. Tubbo didn’t turn from his desk to say goodbye.

"Right. Want to go to the river tomorrow?"

"Tommy, I really need to take care of this."

"Yeah, of course. Good luck."

"Mhm."

Tommy climbed the railing one floor up and then, kicking his feet off the gutter, onto the roof.

The rooftop tiles were slippery and cold. He stepped carefully, sensing where the roof might sag or be unfinished. He slowly made his way to Phil's house, crept into his room, and laid him down on the bed.

Philza had done a good job building a room for his son, that was clear. He put more work into it than the rest of the house, and he clearly prioritized it. The walls were unplastered, wooden, but it added to the atmosphere. There was a wool rug on the floor, and a desk and a wardrobe stood against one wall, next to the door. An enderchest was shoved into the corner of the room. A swing hammock hung from the ceiling in the center.

There was a bed by the window, with a stained, patched blanket and a real pillow.

Tommy snuggled into it, not bothering to close the window. The light from the corridor, which was visible through the half-open door - Philza must have come in during Tommy's visit to Tubbo - attracted moths, which were whirling around the room, perching on the ceiling and glass sides of the lamp.

Tommy ignored the phantom's sudden scream outside the window. He squeezed his eyes shut, imagining Wilbur was there, but that only made him angrier.

He sat down, slammed the window shut with a loud bang, and threw the pillow against the wall.

After lying there in growing annoyance, he reached under the bed and pulled out a dusty, bloodstained coat. He put it under his head and fell asleep, pretending not to hear the occasional thud against the window and the shadow of the outstretched, translucent wings cast on the wall.

The days were beginning to blend together, especially since Sam wasn't around L'manburg - or rather New L'manburg as much as Tubbo had announced a few days earlier. - that much, busy with his own projects and work.

Philza continued to hover over Tommy like a worried mother hen, Fundy avoided him, Tubbo was perpetually busy with his new duties, and everyone else fell into their routine, not really trying to break it.

Tommy didn't tell anyone about his growing anger and his trouble controlling it. One night, he grabbed the phantom stalking him and pinned it to the ground before grabbing the segment of its spine protruding from its back, ripping it off with the monster's shrill scream. He carefully tore the membrane from its wings when he was sure the creature could no longer move. Only after obtaining the delicate material did he kill it by crushing its skull with his shoe.

The other day he broke all his pens because he couldn't write well - the ink kept dripping wrong, creating blots, or they wouldn't write at all, leaving only pits and marks on the page that you could only see at the right angle, so he started beating the inkwell and the pen against the desk before throwing them against the wall. When the last pen in his possession suddenly stopped writing, he began to bend and break it, barely holding back a scream.

The most trivial things were starting to annoy him. His meal was too burnt; the floorboard creaked, driving him crazy; his clothes were scratching him because he accidentally used the wrong material to patch a giant hole in the back of his favourite shirt.

Things that before he would’ve dismissed with irritation or played up groaning for attention were starting to make him furious.

Routine got him down and everything else annoyed him.

The last straw was his visit to the Nether.

He'd avoided it for nearly three weeks, feeling the eyes of every person who had fought the Withers on him. He didn’t want to expose Techno to their wrath or lose their trust himself, but his skin was covered with shivers more and more often and the late autumn air deprived him of his breath.As soon as the sun set down, he headed towards the portal, ready to get an explanation and play on Techno's feelings, only to forgive him after properly blackmailing him and guilt tripping into giving Tommy some nice gifts as an apology..

But the house he went to was left empty. Techno’s favourite items - gifts from Tommy - have disappeared from the house. Some of his hoard stayed behind, as did the food and most of the blankets and furs.

Even Nutpig seemed to vanish into thin air. Her trough was half full, but the meat in it was long rotten and filled the air around with a foul smell.

"He left me." Tommy whispered in disbelief. He picked up a book of Greek myths, abandoned on the shelf. "How fucking dare he?! He left me! That fucking bitch!” He tore the cover in half and threw it against the wall. The pages scattered across the floor.

Tommy felt sick, weak, and most of all, angry.

He kicked the leg of the table, grabbed the back of the chair, and began to slam it against the tabletop until it crumbled. He threw the jewelry and ornaments Techno had left behind on the floor and furniture, feeling wild satisfaction as they shattered into irreparable pieces. He kicked and screamed before collapsing to the center of the room, bathing in his destruction.

"He left me." He mumbled in disbelief. Beside him lay a torn page with a picture of Icarus, falling into the ocean with one arm outstretched to the sky.

Tragedies didn't make people stronger; they hurt and made them ugly. Loneliness was the worst fate awaiting any human being.

Tommy hugged himself, pretending for a moment that he was exhausted from wrestling with Techno and faking a fight with Wilbur. Echoes of old love, but there was no going back. There were two empty spaces left, with nothing else to fit them.

"Why am I so angry?" he asked the Nether. Other than the rhythmic beat, nothing answered.

When he got home, he talked and laughed as if he didn't feel the two gaps that remained empty despite Phil's smiles and concern, Quackity's jokes and Jack's taunts.

He teased others, imitated and annoyed them, always ready to be the first to make a joke or help.

Somewhere in his pocket was a broken necklace with two beads, a memory he wasn't ready to let go of yet.

But the routine drove him crazy, and the monotony gave him time to think about the things he avoided.

So, upon hearing of a new person, he was the first to arrive at the port, waving cheerfully at the obviously overwhelmed teen.

"Hey there! Big man Tommy, right at your service."

"Uh, hi. I'm Ranboo."

Chapter Text

Philza was definitely trying very hard to be a good dad, but for the longest time he barely counted as a dad at all, so seeing him trying to fit into that role was at least weird, and at worst unsettling.

Tommy tried, really, to understand him, but the man seemed too uncanny for the teen to let his guard down.

Something about him was just wrong.

Every day, they ate most of the meals together - it was as if the war never happened; Pogtopia long forgotten and covered in dust. Wilbur’s lack of presence was stinging, and Tommy wondered if Phil felt the same - he supposed not, because their dining room table only had two chairs near it.

The teen was sure that he was the only person who was bringing Wilbur flowers - a neat bouquet of sunflowers and a lone poppy, all of which he had found on his way there. It was lonely and after a month the grave was a bit overgrown, left forgotten to everyone beside the younger brother.

Philza made breakfast, passed quick “I love you”’s when he had the chance to, made sure Tommy’s clothes were mended and fit to keep him warm.

It was like he was forgetting that Tommy was a soldier, not a little kid.

Tubbo was too tired for Tommy to burden him with his own grief and anger, and “I’m busy” became their normal. The younger teen started wearing his compass, pretending it pointed to his friend, just so he could feel less alone.

“I’m going out.” He said, finishing his meal. Phil cocked his head to the side and trilled.

“Oh? You’re making friends? That new kid seems alright.”

Ranboo was alright, but Tommy would never admit it. The Enderman hybrid was tall, anxious and shy. The blonde gave him a tour on his first day, and they exchanged “hellos”, and Tommy would even go as far as to call them friends - or people who were starting to become friends at least - but it wasn’t what he had in mind for that day.

“Nah, Sam needs my help with the path again.”

“Again? He’s an adult, I’m sure he’ll manage.”

“I’m afraid he won’t. I’m key to making it better. I’m the best person for the job.”

“Maybe you’ll hang out with Fundy? Or Tubbo, if Ranboo is busy today?”

“Tubbo is always busy now. And Fundy… we have a complicated relationship, old man.” Tommy swallowed the last bit and rushed out of the kitchen. Phil hovered over the dishes, before going after him.

He wouldn’t understand, Tommy was sure of it. He failed Fundy - he wasn’t strong enough to keep Wilbur sane. The fox had to have it against him, because… it just made sense. Tommy had tried his best and his best wasn’t enough. And thus, he failed his nephew for the second time – first he wasn’t able to save Sally, and almost lost Techno, and now, he failed to save Wilbur and did lose Techno.

Maybe it wasn’t only Fundy he had failed, but himself too. He was supposed to be strong; to be Wilbur’s Protector. And what a shit excuse of one he had been, not able to save him from himself.

Maybe if he didn’t agree on trying to stop being codependent, Wilbur would never try to leave.

“I’ll get going now. Bye Phil!” He ran outside before the man could question him further.

Sam was waiting for him on the grass, this time with no Fran in sight. He was weaving a flower crown, made from herbs and ears of grain.

When he noticed Tommy, he put one hand in air to greet him. The teen saluted and sat across the Creeper hybrid, looking at his hands. The man finished his work and smiled at Tommy’s excited grin.

“Ready for work, big man?”

“Good to see you too, Tommy. I’m glad your week has been great.”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m a businessman, we can skip the small talk. We’re grown-ups, you and I. We can talk about women and se-“

“So, I thought that we could add some lanterns too keep the path light up. Monsters prefer dark places, so it should ward them off.” Sam interrupted him quickly before showing him a bunch of lanterns he had brought and stacked a few meters away. Tommy rolled his eyes and groaned, but went to work without many serious complaints.

Sam grinned at his playful dread, not taking his groaning too serious. Tommy showed him the middle finger as he took some of the lanterns and started placing them by the path.

“You’re lame.” He informed the man.

They worked in silence. He hadn’t seen Sam for quite a while - the man got absorbed by his own projects, so much so that he forgot about the outside world.

Tommy could respect keeping busy, even if it meant Sam had less time for him. He had to respect the grind, he insisted to no one in particular.

They finished before sundown, and Tommy sat on the stairs of the path and looked at the sun, slowly sinking below the horizon. The sky was painted orange and red.

Sam joined him, and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Okay, what’s the matter, Tommy?”

“Stop trying to psychoanalyse me, you creep.”

“Hey, you know you can talk to me.” Tommy avoided his gaze, and felt his face turning red from embarrassment.

“It’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. Do you want me to guess?”

“You can try.” The teen scoffed, but something inside him felt warm.

Sam seemed soft and understanding. He still had the flower crown on his head, leaves and petals in between the strands of his hair.

“You don’t like talking about bad stuff, but it’s going to start overwhelming you if you just keep them inside.” He held his finger, not letting Tommy interrupt him “I know, you’re not a child and you don’t feel like you need help, but all people do.”

“Well, I’ve never seen you ask for help.”

“Never? That’s funny, considering that’s the reason you’re here.” Sam gestured all around them. The path looked better, well maintained, all light up. The rotted planks were replaced with new ones, and it didn’t croak under people’s steps.

Tommy pursed his lips and pouted.

“Well, I don’t need to talk about my emotions. I’m doing fine.”

“And Phil?”

“Phil is… Fine too.” He was overwhelming, but Tommy felt bad for even thinking that. He wasn’t a dad he imagined the man would be. “I miss Wilbur. I get it’s messed up, but damn I miss him. I’m the only one that cares about him.”

“If you want, we can make him a place to rest, together. I know it’s not much but-“

“He has. A grave, I mean. I buried him. Nobody knows where it is. I don’t know how to feel about that.” He rested his chin on his knees. Sam’s ears perked with interest, but the man kept quiet, letting the boy have some much needed space. “I’m angry that no one goes there to keep him company. It must be lonely, you know? Nobody fucking talks to you. Nobody brings you flowers and you just rot in there like nothing you did ever mattered. And at the same time I’m glad? Because no one is trying to break it or vandalise it. Wil wasn’t bad. He was my brother.”

“I know. You can miss him, Tommy.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Tommy looked at Sam’s face. The green splotches of freckles were making it hard to see the red on his cheeks. He looked sincere, more than anyone Tommy had ever known.

“I just. Don’t know how to live without him.”

Sam reached with all four of his arms and Tommy collapsed into them. The embrace was strong, and he held him like no one ever did before - maybe except for Techno, but Tommy tried to get rid of that thought as soon as it had arised.

He didn’t cry, but his eyes were wet. Sam was combing through his hair with his clawed fingers, careful and gentle.

“I think I need to talk to Phil.” Tommy’s voice was a whisper, and he sounded unsure. Sam made it seem easy, and he fit in the teen’s life like if he had always belonged there.

“You’ll learn, you know.”

“What? How to talk to Phil?”

“No,” The Creeper ruffled his hair “how to live without Wilbur. Mourning is hard. Grief is the love that was never spoken aloud and has nowhere to go. I know that you might feel like no one will fit into the space Wilbur left behind, and probably no one ever will. But you will find other people who fit in other spaces. Life goes on and it’s terrifying that it does, and it’s even more terrifying that the world keeps making us move on, but there is no expiration date on grief. It comes and goes and you will miss him, and sometimes it will be easier, and then, some days, it will be the hardest thing you ever had to deal with. It’s okay.”

Tommy hugged him, bringing him closer. Sam rested his chin on the teen’s head. The blonde’s chest was rising and falling heavily, and his breath was stuttering. He held on, as if Sam was his lifeline.

“You’re really fucking sappy. That’s so cringe, you giant mushy loser.” He whispered into the man’s sweatshirt. The hybrid smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

When Tommy went home he felt at ease. He didn’t comment how obvious Phil’s disdain for Sam was, or how uneasy he felt around him. Instead, he thought of lanterns near the Prime Path, guiding everyone away from danger, making it easier to go home.

It took two days for Tommy’s anger to come back.

He didn’t really know why; it just did. Maybe because Sam was, once again, drowning himself in his projects - something about his base needing renovations - or because Tubbo, once again, asked him to give him some time.

He didn’t blame him, after all, Wilbur left him with a ruin he had to rebuild. Responsibility was weighing on him, but the teen wasn’t the kind of person to give up just because a task awaiting him was difficult.

No matter what the explanation was, Tommy lost his temper way too easier than ever.

Philza was looking at him, a stupid board game in his hands. It was the same one he played with Techno and Wilbur many weeks before. The man looked hopeful, and maybe Tommy wouldn’t be that mad, if he wasn’t acting like a replacement for Wilbur.

It all started when they opened the box and the teen noticed the lack of one pawn. The metal pig was nowhere to be seen. He threw everything out of the box and started searching, his breath hitching when he came up with nothing.

“Tommy? What’s happening?”

“The pig. It’s lost. It’s not in the box.”

“Oh? I’m sure we’ll find it. And we still have four more pawns. You can play with one of those.”

“No, you don’t understand. I have to find that pig.” He looked under the table. Phil made a cawing sound, then laughed.

“Hey, mate, it’s just a pawn. No use getting so upset about it.”

“You don’t fucking understand! Shut up!”

Tommy was red in the face. When he yelled, droplets of drool splat across the floor he was kneeling on. He gritted his teeth when Phil started hovering, with shredded wings spread as much as he could.

“Tommy, I don’t see how a pawn is worth being so upset about. If you want a pig one that badly, I can make one for you. I picked up some arts and crafts on my trips.”

“No. NO! It’s not something you can fucking replace! But, oh, it’s so fucking easy for you to do that, huh? What, if I’m too much for you to handle you will kill me too? Or will you just abandon me like before?”

“Tommy, I don’t like your tone. We should talk this through like adults. Take a deep breath and calm down, then we can talk about it the right way.”

“Oh, the right way, is it? You know what? I bet Wilbur ruined your wings so you couldn’t leave! And you know what? I want you to! I can’t stand you!”

“Tommy, I know you’re upset, you went through a lot, but I promise, I’m trying to do better. I’m your dad-“

“WILBUR WAS MY DAD MORE THAN YOU EVER WERE!”

Phil’s breath hitched, his feathers ruffled, making him appear bigger and scarier with how mangled his wings were.

Tommy took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“Where were you when Sally died? Where were you when we fought in a war? Where were you when Wilbur and I realized we are so codependent we can’t live without each other? I can tell you; not fucking here. Why would you have fucking children if you couldn’t care enough about us to not leave us? You didn’t give a shit and now suddenly you do, because you can’t do that anymore. I’m not fucking ten anymore! You can’t fix that! You can’t just pretend that you’re a caring dad when you don’t even know what my favourite colour is!”

Philza was quiet, and Tommy started calming himself down. All anger, like a flame, burned out. The room was quiet, the only sound filling it was their breathing.

“It’s red.”

Tommy turned around. Phil looked sad, and more human. He was clenching a pawn too, a little metal wolf.

The teen shoved him on his way out to his room.

Ranboo didn’t look particularly happy with his life choices, and Tommy could’ve sworn that he had seen him writing down “Days without committing a crime: 0” in his notebook. He smiled, sharp, and nudged the older teen with his elbow.

“Let’s go, tall fucker. We have work to do.”

He took a can of paint in his arms and started heading towards the cozy little cottage build-in into a hill. That part was a total ripoff of his own raccoon-hole, and he voiced that loudly, but his complains were met with a shy “I wouldn’t say so, this house is way nicer” from Ranboo.

The Enderman hybrid followed after him, also holding a bucket of paint, probably also filled with regrets.

George’s little cottage core escape was a perfect victim.

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” Ranboo asked as he looked around. Tommy crossed his arms over his chest.

“Everyone griefs my house all the time, he can bitch about it all he wants, but it’s a fair game, believe me, boob boy.”

“That’s not my name.” Ranboo gave him a shaky smile before a bigger and a more confident one spread on his face.

“It’s free therapy. Do you not want me to be therapised? And here I thought we were best friends.”

“We are?” Ranboo looked way too happy and Tommy made a mental note to introduce him to Tubbo - and maybe Phil, to give him another lost child to take care of when he was away from Fundy. They haven’t really spoken since their last one-sided argument. The teen avoided him like Piglins avoid soul fire, and the Avian tried his best to give him space. He still asked him how his day’s been, and prepared meals for him. He even left a small, wooden pig pawn on his desk, as an olive branch.

Tommy didn’t need his weird parental love, he was absolutely fine and too grown up to answer his silly little questions.

His back ached with something that wasn’t even there. Tommy had convinced himself that shutting those thoughts off was a better idea than to deal with them. Years of adoration, of wanting to follow in his father’s footsteps, all gone, all futile.

“We are. Friends. And we will be better ones if we bond. And what’s the better way to do it than to fuck shit up?”

“Well, you did say you need it. And if it helps you to deal with your emotions…” Ranboo looked at the paint, then at the door of the house “I mean, mental health is important, isn’t it?”

“That’s the fucking spirit!” Tommy put his hand inside the bucket - they didn’t have any brushes, so they had to improvise. His forearm was covered in red paint, which he flicked towards the pristine white wall.

Ranboo dipped his tail in the bucket as well, treating it as his brush. The fur on it was stained, but he looked happy.

“Let’s do some crime!” He announced and helped Tommy cover George’s house in shitty doodles and slogans.

“I have such a good influence on people.” The younger teen said, to which Ranboo laughed and gave him a cheeky smile.

None of them had noticed that the lantern that was standing by the door fell over. The flame started licking the wood, and soon, the whole building was aflame.

The sand underneath his feet was wet and cold, and nothing like the one on L’manberg’s riverbank’s shore.

He was holding Wilbur’s coat, clutching it in his hands as if his life depended on it. Dream stood beside him, stoic. He had controlled his anger well enough to make Tommy’s look like the outliner.

Tubbo wasn’t looking at him. His friend was standing on the obsidian wall, back turned as if saying goodbye was a privilege Tommy didn’t deserve.

“I will visit!” Quackity yelled, a promise hidden in his words. Fundy looked uncomfortable, his tail hanging low.

Both were still broken and bruised, but Tommy was too angry and upset to worry about it.

The sky was gray and the rain was slowly pouring in, covering the entire city. The waves weren’t high, but being out in the open during a storm didn’t seem like a particularly good idea.

“Tubbo, man, think about it for a second.” Tommy tried. His ego didn’t let him beg, but that was the closest he could get to it. He didn’t want to think about Phil coming back from Niki’s bakery to an empty house, without anything explaining what had happened.

It was a mistake. They all knew that.

Ranboo was standing on the left, half hidden, and Tommy couldn’t blame him for not wanting any attention. His tail was swaying from side to side, but he didn’t move an inch.

Tommy swallowed. He wanted to take the hit for them. He was already the troublemaker, so it was fit for him to make one mistake too many.

“You messed up, Tommy. I’m a president now. I have a duty to uphold.”

“What? It’s us against the world, man. Cmon, beeboy. You can’t just toss me aside, seriously, think about it. I would’ve never done something like that to you.”

“BECAUSE YOU WOULDN’T HAVE TO! Gods, Tommy, is it that hard to listen for once?” Tubbo turned back to him. His face was red with anger, and he shook with rage. “Maybe you need that! To learn that your actions have consequences!”

“Careful, you’re sounding like Schlatt.” Tommy bit his tongue, but it was too late. Tubbo looked as if he had slapped him. He regained his stoicism, shook his head and put his hands inside his suit’s pockets.

“And with the way you’re behaving, you’re almost like Wilbur.” His words were bitter and poisonous. Quackity rushed to Tubbo’s side to de-escalate the situation, but it was far too late for that. Tommy didn’t try to hide the hurt look.

His friend stood above, and though his words hurt, he didn’t look too perturbed by that.

“Dream, please escort Tommy away from my country.”

“You’re joking.” Tommy whispered when Dream grabbed him by the shoulder and started dragging him away. He was digging his heels into the ground, just to make it a tad bit more annoying. Tubbo turned away and didn’t look back.

“Let’s go.” Tommy hated that damn mask, and he could bet that underneath it was a big grin. Dream’s composure didn’t point to any emotion, but it was obvious that he was glad he got what he wanted.

“I need to tell Phil. He’s a mother hen, he’ll be worried if I suddenly disappear!”

“The government can cover that. I’m sure that he’ll understand that misbehaving children must be punished.”

Before he realized it, they were both in the boat. Dream gave him an oar and sat across, watching his every move, as if Tommy would’ve been able to escape.

“We’re not in L’manberg’s territory anymore. Why the fuck do we need to do this stuff? You want to be dramatic?” He tried sounding nonchalant, but somewhere in the middle his voice broke.

“I need to make sure that you won’t run back. You’re like that, aren’t you, Tommy? A little pest. But that’s alright, all animals need is some proper training.”

“I’m not a fucking animal, dickhead.”

“No, but you do need to be trained. After all, what good you are if you can’t even follow the simpliest of orders?”

“I told you it was an accident. People destroy my stuff and mess with me all the time! You’re just being unreasonable. You need therapy.”

“I can see why everyone left you. I think I’m doing you a favor.”

Tommy splashed water right on the man, earning a sudden “WHAT THE FUCK TOMMY” in response. He snickered.

Soon, they arrived on shore. The air was cold and there were no buildings in sight. Tommy started shivering, Wilbur’s coat being the only thing keeping him warm. His shoes were soaked, and he wished he had grabbed some bread before going on trial.

“I think this is it.” Dream sounded chipper.

Tommy looked around. The sky was gray, and first droplets of rain were dropping, foreshadowing a heavy one coming. The beach wasn’t big, just enough space to lay down on wet sand before grass and gravel started.

There was an oak forest growing a little further, and the only thing making the place look less boring was a high cliff on the other side of the bay.

“Okay, this isn’t funny. We can go back to your shit country now.”

“No, Tommy, you don’t understand. This is where you will live now. Maybe one day, when you’re tamed and well behaved, I will let you visit the Mainland.”

“This is far away from everyone. It took us hours-“

“It’s exile, Tommy. You can’t go back. But, everyone can visit you. I will tell them where you are so they can come here if they want to.”

Tommy crossed his arms across his chest and groaned.

“You’re such a bitch, man. So high on your high horse you might as well be floating. You’re like a fucking- fucking Ravager, just ruining people and being annoying as shit. Die, the world would be a better place without you.”

“That’s why you need to be away. You aren’t good for people.”

“I’m great for people.” Tommy pointed at himself, grinning, although his spirits were not as good as they should’ve been. Well, maybe they shouldn't have, considering his situation. “Tommy the greatest, they call me.”

“You almost took Ranboo down with you. I know he was there too, and you’re covering for him.”

“You have no proof.”

“Maybe, but we both know that’s the truth. I’m letting you take the entire fall because if you mattered for him, he wouldn’t let you. But hey, at least he knows his worth! He can’t being friends with someone who will make his life harder, why would he want that?”

“Shut up!” Tommy bent down and grabbed a fist of sand. He threw it at Dreams face, but the man dodged it without even trying. He sighed, and put the hood of his hoodie up.

“Well then, I will see you later. Make yourself at home.” He turned back to the boat, then stopped. Tommy’s blood was freezing in his veins, he was terrified of the thought of being left alone, isolated. “Ah, I almost forgot.”

Dream spun back, dug a hole and leaned on the shovel, looking nonchalant. The sword he had at his side looked dangerous and threatening.

“Drop your stuff in the hole.”

Chapter Text

The sunlight slowly caressed the sleeping boy’s forehead, sinking inside a tent through the gaps in the material.

Tommy woke up, stretched and crawled outside, grimacing when wet sand clinged to his clothes. He didn’t bother brushing it off, only scratching at the bandages tied around his forearms to get rid of the itchiness.

Clay was standing by the ocean, as he did for the past week. Tommy did his best to summon his usual bravado, and put a cocky smile on his face. He walked towards the man, yawning and stretching.

His back was killing him; even in Pogtopia he had a mattress, but now he was sleeping on cold, bare ground, with a tent filled with holes to shield him from the wind.

“Tommy, let’s get to our little routine, shall we?”

“How about you jump in the hole instead?” Tommy snarked, taking a step backwards when Dream shifted his stance.

“Come on, we talked about this. How many times I have to teach you that backtalking is not something you’re supposed to do?” Tommy flipped him off and gulped when he put his hand on a sword’s handle.

“Sorry, man.” He frowned and unbuckled his bag, but hesitated for a moment. “Can’t I keep this? Just this once?”

“Tommy, how are you supposed to learn to be better if we’re not consequential in your lessons?”

“Maybe I don’t need to learn. Maybe I’m already good enough.”

“And yet, no one bothers to visit you.” Dream’s words were nonchalant, but they startled Tommy, who took a step back, grasping onto his bag in desperation.

“They’re probably busy.”

“You’re right. Busy having fun and enjoying life you keep on ruining. Does it bring you satisfaction, Tommy? Making them be the ones responsible for your mess?”

“Hey, you green fuck, I know you’re just talking shit.”

“Then why does everyone leave you?”

Wilbur’s lifeless body, covered with a flag, an ironic scene, for a person who destroyed the country to be buried covered with its colours.

Philza disappearing for years, not answering his letters.

They all would’ve left eventually, Tommy tried to justify, but the words taste bitter and ashy, like the soot Wilbur had left behind.

But Techno left too, and he was the only person who would never do that , another part of him voiced, and Tommy shaked his head, because thinking of the afternoons spent in the Nether was too much, especially when he was here , on a cold beach, alone.

Tommy bit his lip and shoved the bag forward. The contents of it spilled out into the hole Dream had dug the first time they were there.

“See? It wasn’t that hard. I’m sure they will love to visit you as soon as you’re better.”

“Yeah, right.” Tommy muttered, kicking the sand as he went to start gathering resources again.

Dream trailed behind him, but not too close. He watched as Tommy gathered wood that should’ve last him for the night, as he sharpened some of it into tools.

It wasn’t something he was good at just a week ago, but his skill was improving, mostly due to the fact that it was repetitive, a part of his routine.

“Didn’t take you for someone who would pick up wood carving.” Dream said, leaning on a tree. Tommy shrugged and finished making an ax.

“Of course you didn’t. You’re a bad motherfucker who can only think about making others suffer.”

“Now, now, that’s no way to talk to a friend.”

“Yeah, well, if I see one of my fucking friends I might think about that. You’re just a-“

“Watch your tongue.” Dream growled, his sword out of the scabbard.

Tommy turned to ignore him and focused on the meadow they were approaching. He looked at the sheep, happily baahing and trotting over towards his direction, pushing their heads around his legs.

He bent over to pet one of them, smiling at its efforts to try to eat his pant leg. It managed to chew a hole in it, so he pushed it lightly aback.

“You’re toying with them?”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s a piglin tradition to show respect to the life you will end.” He kneeled before the sheep and sliced its throat in one clean movement. “Maybe I will teach you something too, huh? Watch and learn.”

“Just take it to your camp. You’re getting thin.”

“Maybe if you stopped blowing up my fucking resources-“

“I’m keeping you going. You should be glad. Without me, you would just rot in here. You’re lazy, Tommy, you probably wouldn’t do anything the moment you had enough food to last you for a few days. Just sit and waste time.”

Tommy pushed against Dream as he dragged the sheep back to the beach.

When he returned to that meadow a few days later, all of it was painted red with blood.

He threw up, looking at the massacred animals, all of them slaughtered in a bestial way, torn apart, some still breathing, with skin torn off their limbs.

A cow huffed at him, its vocal cords cut, and Tommy pushed his shirt against the main injury, praying to whoever was listening to let him save it.

He woke up with a scream, trashing and dry heaving.

Dream punished him for wasting food when he vomited and forbade him from going out to find something to eat that day.

“They’re all gone! They were fucking murdered!” Tommy yelled at him, and the man followed, a shadow attached to Tommy, watching his every move.

Tommy showed him the meadow, only to find it clean, not a single animal carcass around.

The teen bent over at the smell of blood, filling his insides, corroding his lungs.

“They were here.” He whispered, and Dream snorts.

“What was here?”

“The animals! I brought the sheep to the camp a few days ago. They were all dead yesterday!”

Dream tapped on his mask, humming.

“What are you talking about, Tommy? What animals?”

“The ones from this meadow, you useless green eyesore! There were a bunch of them-“

“That meadow was always empty, Tommy. There weren’t any animals here. Did you hit your head?”

“What?” Tommy turned, and he could smell the blood in the wind, but there was nothing there, the grass wild, overgrown and unbothered.

Dream sighed and put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder.

“You’re just tired, Tommy. Let’s get your stuff and you can go back to bed.”

That’s the first time Tommy didn’t argue when Dream blew up his possessions, and a voice sounding like Wilbur whispered a vicious “maybe you should stand closer to the edge” to his ear, wrapping those words around his mind like a snake.

It’s a Saturday and the beginning of the third week, when he finally asked about Philza.

He asked about Tubbo; He’s running L’manburg, he’s busy, but I’ve heard him and Ranboo went to look for wild flowers to decorate their homes with.

He asked about Fundy; He found a bunch of recipes and started making ice cream, nothing beats hot chocolate with it, he’s moving on.

He asked about Niki and Quackity; She’s baking again, although she focuses much more on her little flower shop. It’s right in the center of L’manburg and it’s walls are painted yellow. Quackity’s been hanging out with Karl and Sapnap a lot lately. His leg is completely healed, not even a limp present.

Tommy grieved, for people who were moving on, but left him to stay in the past, where it was comfortable to have him.

Dream says “no, they didn’t ask for you” and Tommy nods, as if that’s the right answer.

“How’s Phil?” He asked, nudging a worm drawing through the grass with a long stick. He tried sounding unbothered, but Dream quirked his head to the side and kicked a rock.

“Oh, I wouldn’t know. He left a while ago.”

“What?” Tommy hearts beated faster at that, the bitter feeling spreading, choking him-

“Yeah, come on. He’s a free spirit. He doesn’t let his roots grow! And, besides, there are places where you can find people who can repair damaged wings. I bet he’s searching for a thing called Elytra. Wouldn’t be a surprise to see him soaring through the skies again!”

“He said he wouldn’t leave. You’re lying.” Tommy frowned and stood up, facing against Dream.

The goat hybrid shifted from one leg to another.

“Really, Tommy? After all I do for you, you’re still calling me a liar? Well then, tell me, if he cares about you so much he wouldn’t leave; where is he?”

Tommy leaped at Dream, baring his teeth and snorting a piglin war cry.

The man simply moved out of the way as Tommy lashed out and collided with a tree.

“You’re fucking lying, you green bastard! He wouldn’t leave me!”

“What makes you think that? He already did once.”

Tommy stopped, and kneeled on the grass. His shirt was torn, just as his trousers.

He lost his right shoe when he got stuck in the mud a few days before.

His hair was greasy, dirtier than ever before.

His skin was scratched, bruised. Injuries hid under the bandages Dream gave him.

“Hey, but you know what? I wouldn’t leave you. You’re my best friend, after all.” Dream crouched before him, and pulled his mask back. “See, I trust you.”

Round green eyes, freckles sprinkled across his cheeks and a soft smile welcomed Tommy instead of the monster he was expecting to see.

“Yeah.” He whispered, resigned.

Tommy clutched his Tubbo , recently taken out of his enderchest, and avoided eye contact

“What’s with the compass?”

“Oh. It’s. Its fucking dumb. We believed it would point towards the other one.” The teen explains, something bitter in his voice.

Dream put his mask back on, and reached his hand towards Tommy to help him stand up.

The teen took it, not bothered by how thin his wrist looked compared to Dream’s. The man pushed him out towards the camp, making a joke about George.

Tommy looked up at the sky. A storm was approaching.

Dream not only allows him to eat two days later, but he brings him food by himself.

Tommy was slowly getting accustomed to the fact that half of his meals were burned and the other half undercooked, almost raw. It wouldn’t bother him that much, if not for the fact that when he ate raw pork in the Nether, it was with many different plants that grew there, acting as herbs and spices.

“Are you sure they don’t want to see me? Maybe they just don’t know where I am?” Tommy asked, feeling slightly foolish for even doubting Dream’s words.

The man frowned - Tommy could see his expression, with the mask left in his tent for most of the visits now - but didn’t scream or berate him for accusing him of lying.

Instead, he smiled broadly and ruffled Tommy’s hair.

“Well then, let’s make a path for them to follow.”

He created an obsidian frame, and for a moment, Tommy’s heart stopped.

Dream ignited the portal and bowed before Tommy, like a showman presenting his newest project.

The teen scrambled towards the frame before letting the purple matter consume him.

The hot air hit him in the face first, and he shuddered, feeling sweat sink through his close in an instant. It was too hot, too disorientating.

Red pollen surrounded him, making him have a coughing fit.

Dream stepped out of the frame, his hands gripping onto the obsidian to stabilise himself.

Tommy looked at the red forest, the lava lake spread just before them; they landed on a cliff side, with no way up or down.

Dream took a deep breath and handed Tommy a pickaxe. The blond took it, stunned by the sudden wave of belonging. He could hear some nearby Piglins arguing about trades, a hotline trying to sneak up on them. The rhythmic beat that had always filled the Nether; her heart, a mother to all the creatures here.

The air stung, the soot and smoke reminding him of Wilbur’s coat and of Techno’s fur.

“See? That’s the direction of the community portal. Not so far, huh?”

Dream pointed, and Tommy squinted to see the outline of a black building settled on a floating island, with a bunch of different bridges attached to it.

“You want me to build up there?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard, right? After all, you wanted to see people. Give them an easy way to.”

Tommy grimaced, but decided to take the risk. The pick felt heavy in his hands as he dug for the resources, accompanied by Dream following his every step.

The man helped him gather wood, and listened as Tommy explained how to tie the lianas to create a strong rope.

“ Non-Piglin with no gold, daring to step into our forest? It’s the piglin hunting ground, furless.” An angry snort interrupted them halfway. Tommy paused, reading both the sounds and the gestures.

“It looks like a sick hoglin runt.” A little Piglin added. The necklaces indicated that they came from a smaller bastion, with only fifteen beads on them.

“ Oi, I’m not a fucking hoglin! ” And not a runt , he added to himself. It was weird, seeing the world being used by someone who wasn’t Techno.

The smaller Piglin shrieked and ran to position themselves behind the older one. It wasn’t out of fear, Tommy knew their culture enough to recognise it; it was a strategic position, so the weaker one wouldn’t be a burden during the fight.

The hunter snorted and stomped at the ground, then made a waving gesture with his hand, bringing it upwards.

“ We’re here to collect wood and make a bridge that leads to that portal, ” he pointed towards the blackstone building, “ we don’t mean any harm and won’t interrupt your hunts. ”

He answered the question, but the hunter stayed suspicious. They spotted the necklace around Tommy’s neck; the beads and the compass.

“ It’s from my sounder.” He answered once again.

The Piglin squealed and nodded to the younger one, pointing its crossbow towards the opposite way.

They went to continue hunting, leaving Dream and Tommy alone.

“What did you tell them?”

“Well, basically they were concerned that humans are in this region because they use it for hunting. They agreed to hunt in the other part of the forest and tell their sounder to leave us alone.”

“Just like that?”

“They haven’t met a human that could understand them. I bet it’s more out of shock than generosity.”

Dream hummed, glancing at Tommy weirdly.

“That’s a very useful skill, you know that?”

“What?” Tommy frowned, glancing back where the Piglins had disappeared.

“Communicating with them. I wouldn’t know if they’re fully sentient if not for how… unique you are.”

“Yeah, and see where all that being unique brought me.” Tommy turned towards his portal. “I’m tired.”

“Go then, I’ll finish the path.” Dream waved him off, and the teen obliged, slowly marching back towards his tent.

He stopped for a moment when he appeared in the Overworld, catching his breath. Something behind him moved.

On the tree line of the forest, in its shadow, he could swear that he had seen something watching him.

He clutched his compass, and made sure to run back to his tent

Chapter Text

Hello, I think it's important to address the situation that's currently happening, so, some things that are important, some of my views regarding fics and other.

First of, support Shubble/Shelby! It's a hard thing to speak about abuse of any form, and the fact that she's so strong and brave is admirable! Fuck you, Wilbur Soot.

Second, I think we all know what the situation is, and we should name it - Wilbur Soot is an abuser. Don't listen to his music (Spotify has an option to block an artist!), don't watch his videos, don't support him. Don't let him profit from anything. People like him deserve to rot. This is in no way a place for people who try to justify his actions, and if you try to excuse domestic abuse/abuse of any kind, then you're not welcome on my profile.

Third, regarding fics - I've seen people discontinuing or orphaning what they've wrote. I understand that and if someone comes to that decision, they have all rights to do it.

I won't be deleting or discontinuing my fics. I wrote strictly about characters, not content creators, and after three years of writing and more than 400k words worth of fics, I feel I'm not in the wrong to say that those characters belong to me at this point. The only thing they share with ccs is a blueprint they provided and a name. I think Ranboo stated before (on their tumblr blog, if I'm not mistaken) that, regarding their character, it belongs not to them, but to the fandom, and I feel that way about every dsmp character. We took them and made them our own. They don't belong to CCs anymore.

It's not Wilbur the abuser with a yt channel, it's a Wilbur the character.

For me, they have no connection to the CCs.

I'm sorry if I sound unempathetic or uncaring! I do believe we should drop Wilbur because abusers are pieces of shit that don't deserve to have any attention (SUPPORT SHUBBLE!), if I word something worngly and seem apathetic or unclear, I'm sincerely sorry!

But fanfictions are works of passion, something created for free. Noone but a reader benefits from them. He doesn't get anything from people writing stories that include a character he created. Fics don't give him profit.

For me, characters are just that - characters.

Seperate entities, not connected to CCs actions.

I didn't stop using Dream's character after his allegations, because for me they are seperate entities.

And another thing, one that might seem surprising - I actually never watched any of the dsmp CCs (except for Techno and sometimes Tommy). I never had twt or twitch account (I still don't even know how twitch works and how to make an account there). I stopped following dsmp after the disc saga ended, and after that only saw snippets and posts about the prison and revival arc and Techno's stream of breaking Dream out. I also saw a couple of posts about Wilbur's last stream, and that's all. I got into this fandom through fics and animatics.

I never watched Wilbur, never supported him, and I hold no connection to him. I know of him from either Techno's/Tommy's videos or (mostly) tumblr posts. The one I'm writing about is a character that's basically mine, I don't connect him to the CC at all.

All that said - and again, I'm sorry if it sounds bad, it's hard to express my feelings well enough in english, and my autism prevents me mercilesly of seeing if I'm being an ass, feel free to tell me if I am - even if I want to continue my fics (I do), it's best to take a longer break. Even if this character - for me - is mine, not connected to him, it's still a very serious situation.

No matter what I say, some of the characters were first created by a piece of shit, and thus it's important to acknowledge this and take a break from writing him. Right now, we should focus on giving support to his victims instead.

Once again, support the victims. Support Shubble, she did an amazing thing and should get all love and support she needs.

And fuck Wilbur Soot.

If you have any thoughts, feel free to share them.

Hopefully, til the next one.

Take care of yourselves!

Chapter Text

Tommy was losing his mind.

No, no, losing his mind implied anger, it implied something raw and primal, something furious. He wasn’t feeling angry; or rather, his anger wasn’t as strong as it used to.

He was going crazy.

It started in the fourth week; three days after building the path in the Nether; one that was unused and felt isolating, even though it was connected to the main hub.

Tommy would sit on it and stare into the lava lake below it, doing his best to avoid staring at the Piglins that were collecting red roots near it, on the gravel shore just below.

His shadow, cast on the blackstone wall, almost unnoticeable, seemed weird, unnatural. For a moment, Tommy could swear it smiled at him.; other times, it seemed to not be Tommy-shaped at all, as if it didn’t belong to him.

He fell asleep in the Nether, the warm air blowing on his face, his hands covered in blisters. He lost his shoe a few hours earlier; it was damaged beyond repair in a creeper explosion.

His body was aching, hurting. His knees and elbows were scratched, his arms adorned with cuts and barely healed scars.

Burns on his stomach and lap, from when he walked too close to an explosion, made his skin stretch in a more awkward way; where the worst of the burn was, it looked as if it was melted; Dream gave him bandages to cover his body with, complaining about how clumsy and stupid Tommy was.

And now he could swear he heard a subtle giggling coming from the shadows of the Nether.

“There you are.” He didn’t turn, just sighing before getting up from his resting spot.

Dream lifted up his mask and sent him a bright smile.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to greet your friends.”

“Sorry.” Tommy bowed his head and went in the direction of the portal. The Piglins that were observing them made few alarmed snorts; they were quickly stopped by an elder that was accompanying them.

“Let’s get this over with.” Dream said, nonchalant, as if he was tired of their little routine. Tommy obliged and threw his stuff into the hole.

It was a good day; Dream must’ve noticed that his hands were dirty with dried blood and didn’t make him dig the hole, doing it by himself instead.

“I don’t get it.” Tommy whispered, looking at the smoke leaving the site of the explosion. Complaining was a dangerous thing, but if Dream seemed bored of taking his stuff, maybe he could question it-

“What?” Dream’s voice was light, but it balanced on a dangerous edge. Tommy shrugged.

“I’ve been good, haven’t I? Why are we still doing this?”

Dream sighed, and Tommy didn’t try to suppress the flinch that rang through his body; it was identical to how Wilbur would’ve sighed after Tommy disappointed him.

“I thought you learned that already. Do you really need to question me any time I try to-“

“I’m sorry, Dream! I just- I want to understand better.” Tommy mumbled, scratching at the irritated skin on his forearms.

Dream scoffed, an unpleasant look crossing his face upon being interrupted.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? I’m taking your things because it’s your punishment. You need to learn.”

“But I did! I got better, you know that! I don’t even try to keep them-“

“Tommy, when you train an animal, do you stop punishing it after it messes up? Let’s say you want to make sure your dog won’t bark, unless it’s by your command. What do you do to strengthen that? You punish it when it gets loud. You’re good now, because you’re being punished. But would you stay good if I stopped?”

Tommy stayed silent, scratching with even more force, until he felt his skin rip under his fingernails.

“Look, nobody wants you. Wilbur thought it would be better to die than to be by your side. You failed him. Philza left; do you think he ever cared? And that damned Piglin, it was simply an animal, mirroring you. None of that was real. I pity you, Tommy. It must be really hard, being so lonely you seek love from something that can’t feel it. But in that way, we’re the same.” He clicked his tongue and put his mask aside. “You and I, we’re too great, people don’t understand us. They don’t want to keep us around, because they don’t like the potential we have. I understand you. I care. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

Tommy scowled, but kept the words of you’re just here to destroy my stuff to himself.

Dream must’ve sensed that, though, because he continued.

“And it’s not just a punishment. It’s an opportunity! If I let you gather resources and keep them, you’d grow lazy. You would just lay in your tent and rot there. You’ve seen what happens to people who get stuck without a routine. They lose themselves. I’m keeping you on your feet. I’m helping you. Without me, you’d end up like your brother.”

Tommy covered his ears, gritted his teeth together until he heard and felt one of them crack under pressure.

“Tommy, look at me-“ Dream grabbed his forearms, squeezing tightly at the places Tommy scratched open. Blood started coating his fingers, but he kept squeezing, with more force, making sure Tommy paid attention. “I’m your friend. I’m helping you, so you won’t rot and be depressed over not having anything to do. I’m helping you reshape yourself to be a good person. Do you want to end like Schlatt? Like Wilbur? Do you want to be left alone for the rest of your life, because no one wants you?”

“No.” Tommy was shaking, and kept his eyes focused on the sand below their feet. Dream squeezed his arm once again.

“I want to help you. Look at me- Tommy, you can look at me. We’re equals. I’m making sure you’ll get better. I need to punish you so you know when you mess up, and I will reward you when you’ll do good. And maybe then someone will want to visit you.”

Tommy bit his lip, but managed to look up. Without the mask on his face, Dream looked almost human.

He nodded.

“I’ll get better.”

“Great! Now, you can tell me about that compass of yours- oh, don’t worry, I won’t take it, I was just curious.”

“Right…” Tommy sat down on the sand. He took the compass off his neck and looked at the needle, stuck pointing north. Dream crouched beside him, but didn’t move an inch closer, as if to give him some space. “It was a gift, from Tubbo. He has one too.” Tommy mumbled, drumming at the metal with his fingers.

Dream hummed, his eyes shining with curiosity.

“We used to imagine that they’re pointing to each other- That my compass would always point to Tubbo, and- yeah.”

“Interesting.” Tommy glanced at the ocean. The waves weren’t high, but he knew the water was freezing cold, and the darkness that was spreading further out made it seem endless.

Dream left it at that, and their day continued; Tommy flinched as he felt a sudden feeling of something watching them.

“You good, Tommy?” Dream called, tilting his head to the side. The teen shrugged, then turned to him.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thought I heard something.”

Dream hummed and nodded, then continued his walk on the beach.

So good at taking orders, a perfect little soldier, Tommy’s face twisted into a grimace as he emptied his belongings into the hole.

“What? What the fuck are you-“ He turned and saw Tubbo holding a sword, pointing it right between his eyes. “Tubbo? You’re here?”

“You’re not good enough. You’re a burden.” Tubbo’s voice was cold, as cold as the waves that were suddenly consuming Tommy’s body, grabbing his hair and legs, dragging him down into the endless sea- “you should jump into the hole.”

A hand reached out; Dream pulled him out from the water- from the hole- before the sound of an explosion went out, deafening him. Tommy was dry heaving, kneeling on the sand as if stuck praying; he looked up - Dream’s face was blocking the sun, the sunrays surrounding him, making him look godly, holy.

“Do what you’re good at and listen.” Dream growled, but when Tommy blinked, his face morphed into Wilbur’s.

There he stood, in a bloodied uniform, back perfectly straight, even as his shirt was getting more and more bloody from the sword stick between his ribs.

“You could’ve saved me. Why did you love a Piglin more than your brother? Why couldn’t you be good?”

The sky was getting darker with each second.

Tommy reached out and clung to his brother’s shirt, clenching at it, keeping his face against the general’s chest even as he felt it get stained with blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I’ll be better, I promise!”

The arms around him squeezed, a pair of familiar green eyes looking straight into his-

Sally smiles at him before her expression was turned into one of agony, her face melting off, leaving a screaming macabre. Tommy tried to pull away, but she held him closer, until the world was completely dark;

Tommy gasped, trying to push her off, but instead found himself in Philza’s embrace, his black wings surrounding them both, a cage sheltering Tommy from the world. Be bit, hard, and pushed-

He woke up gasping for air, the water surrounding him. He was drowning, so deep in the ocean he couldn’t decide where the bottom and where the surface were.

Something grabbed the collar of his shirt and he struggled, trashing in the water until he heard the wind whistle around him.

He landed on the beach, coughing violently. Dream stood above him, his sweatshirt wet; he was holding a trident, one that was shining with enchants.

“You’re lucky I noticed you in the water.” He says, nudging him with the weapon. “Now, I think you owe me some words.”

“Thank you, Dream.” Tommy coughed, rolling on his back. He closed his eyes, not caring that sand was clinging to his clothes and skin, getting in his wounds.

“Come on, now. Stand up, you have to gather things for today.”

“Can we- Can we not do that? Just take my things and burn them, but could I stay today? Rest?”

“And how would that help with teaching you discipline? Such a shame, you were doing so good that you’ve gotten a letter.”

“A letter?” Tommy sat up and looked at Dream. For a second, his face looked like Wil-

He blinked and it was gone.

“Yeah.” Dream hummed, sliding his mask to the side. “I was telling Tubbo how good you were for the past week, how much you improved, and Ranboo heard of it and wanted to send you something.”

Tommy races to his tent and drags all of his recent belonging with him; a bunch of sticks, a torch, several herbs he snacked on to keep his stomach feeling full, and a pickaxe. He threw them before Dream’s feet, then dug a hole and pushed them into it.

Dream smiled at him and threw in a lot stick of dynamite.

“Oh, I’m proud.” He said and handed him an envelope. “You’re proving that you deserve this, good.”

Tommy nodded, thanked him and opened the letter. He glanced at Dream, who shrugged and looked away.

“You were good, and it’s your letter.”

Tommy nodded again, then focused on the paper in his hands.

Ranboo’s handwriting was a bit more sloppy than his - he also doodles on the page, something Tommy never done, with Wilbur making sure to teach him to always keep his writing neat and clean. One was a doodle of a cat in a crown, with big eyes and a flower in its mouth.

Tommy smiled, then started reading.

“Hello, Dream said you were doing well, and that a letter would be a good idea, one that might help you keep going, see that people are rooting for you.

I’m doing good, Tubbo made me his minuteman. I like taking notes, I’m pretty good at it.

I won’t be talking about Phil, I know you probably don’t want me to. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.

And thank you, for taking the blame. Dream says you’re doing very well, that you’re strong, and he must be right, because from what I remember you don’t seem like a weak person. Well, I don’t know what more to write.

Keep it up king?”

Tommy snorted, but lift his head at Dream, who was still turned around, to give him some privacy.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to read this aloud?” He asked, voice tense; he didn’t expect Ranboo to talk about his involvement in burning George’s house down.

He didn’t want him to suffer the consequences of that.

“Yeah, it’s yours.”

“Okay then, can we burn it? I read it already.” Tommy threw it in the hole, still steaming from all the smoke left by his burning things.

“If you say so. Do you want to write back to him?”

Tommy opened his eyes wide.

“Can I?”

“Of course. You’re behaving well, I don’t see why not.”

He nodded furiously and looked around; Dream handed him a piece of paper and a pencil, and announced that he’s going on a walk to give him space.

Tommy wrote about the beach; how it was cold, but had a nice view. How he was being productive everyday, never being lazy.

How he was doing a good job and listening to Dream, and hasn't gotten in any trouble.

He left out his nightmares and the hollowness that was filling up his chest from time to time. Ranboo probably didn’t want to hear about his struggles. What if he would stop writing because Tommy was a burden?

Dream returned and took the letter, promising Tommy to deliver it straight to Ranboo.

“Counting on it, big man.”

Dream saluted him and left. Tommy stood on the beach for a bit, letting the wind brush his hair.

He heard giggling, again.

Frowning, he turned towards the forest; the trees were dancing in the wind, swaying slowly to the sides, the leaves falling off making it look like a wonderful spectacle.

Tommy took steps towards it, rubbing his eyes.

A person in a yellow sweater seemed to swirl between the trees, giggling softly.

He walked towards the sound, away from the shore.

Between the oaks, he saw a familiar figure; one in a yellow sweater, with a wooden gitar swung across his back. He rushed forward, pushing tree branches aside, ignoring how they scratched his arms and face.

He arrived at a clearing, almost out of breath, but looked up-

A young aspen tree with dried oak branches flung against it was swaying in the wind with the rest of the trees.

“What?” He whispered, coming closer. He touched the trunk, but it stayed solid. “But-“

He shook his head and turned away, clutching at the compass.

He could have sworn-

Ranboo kept writing to him, but he stayed the only person to do so.

Tommy responded to him, always joking, telling him how much fun he was having.

Dream never read the letters, never ordered Tommy to hand them over. He was helping Tommy, and Ranboo seemed to think so as well;

When Tommy pushed Dream one day, because he didn’t want to give him all of the food he gathered, and Dream beat him until he couldn’t walk, Ranboo wrote that it’s good that Dream is teaching him to be a better person.

Dream was being generous. He brought Tommy some sweets from Niki’s bakery, he let him use his trident for a day, and helped Tommy swim out of the ocean when he fell into it after flying too high (I’m all alone, he thought, looking at the stars; the water looked just like the sky did, and maybe with enough force, he found hit it just right to become a constellation across many others), he kept being good and showing Tommy how to be good-

“You’re seriously underfed. Sally would’ve cooked you so many pancakes-“

“Shut up.” Tommy clenched his teeth, turning away from the sound.

Sometimes he would wake up covered by a ratty blanket. Sometimes, he would see footsteps in the sand that only he noticed; or, before Dream could, they were washed away by the waves.

Sometimes, a yellow sweater was just in the corner of his vision.

Most of the time, he heard joyous giggling, or humming.

“Excuse me?” Dream turned to him, a dangerous look on his face. Tommy flinched.

“I’m sorry! Not you!” He quickly responded, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. He could feel arms wrapping around him in a cold, freezing hug-

“Then who?” Dream said, voice low. Tommy shivered as he heard another giggle.

“I’m-“ he swallowed, a blush crawling onto his cheeks. “I’m seeing things.”

“Seeing things.”

Tommy looked away. He tugged at his hard, hard, almost wincing in pain.

“I- sometimes I hear Wil. I know he’s not real, I know I’m just seeing things-“ going crazy just like he did, he thinks with despair, but Dream laughs.

“Ah, that’s Ghostbur!”

“Ghostbur?”

“Tommy, don’t tell me you don’t remember him? He was with you from the day one! We had to hide him from the rain before he melted.”

“You’re making fun of me. You’re being a dick-“

“Careful with that language, Tommy.” Dream warns him, but then adds. “I can’t hear him that well, but I can see him. He’s wearing, um-“

“A yellow sweater?”

“Yeah! And the ripped part of it is sewn together with a blue thread. And he looks just like Wilbur, but more… gray, right?”

Tommy took a deep breath and turned; the thing was standing by the edge of the forest, smiling widely. It’s skin looked a bit gray, if he focused on it-

He blinked and the ghost was gone.

“He disappeared.” He voiced. Dream was looking in the same direction and shrugged.

“He does as he pleases. Do you really not remember?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure I would’ve remembered a fucking ghost-“

“Just like you remembered that bloody field of animal corpses?”

“I-“

“Tommy, you’re not well. That’s why I’m here. I’m helping you, making sure you don’t get hurt. You need my guidance, look at you; you’re so full of self pity that you’re trying to make yourself even more miserable, faking your own memories just so you can feel lonlier. Don’t worry, I’m here. I’ll help you get things straight when they get too confusing.”

Tommy nodded dumbly, taken aback.

Was he really-

But now that Dream said it, wasn’t he feeling as if he was being watched ever since he arrived on the island? Could he trust his memories?

“Hey, let’s go, we need to make a fire and cook these.” Dream lifted up two dead rabbits. Tommy nodded and followed his lead.

Chapter Text

The compass went missing. Tommy spent the entire night searching for it, to no avail. The cursed thing was gone, and he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen it.

Perhaps Dream knew. Dream knew many things. He helped Tommy to be better, to grow, to change into a version of himself that wouldn’t be so hated.

And he cleared some of the confusion that surrounded Tommy most days.

He spotted Dream on the beach, running up to him and throwing his half-broken axe down on the sand.

“My compass went missing.” He said, then grimaced and bowed his head low. “Sorry. Hi, Dream. My compass went missing.”

The man stood still, and Tommy winced; he knew that he should’ve greeted him first. What friend starts talking by sharing a problem that they should solve by themselves?

“At least you know when you make a mistake.” Dream said, his voice sounding resigned. Maybe he was disappointed that, despite all his lessons, Tommy still kept forgetting himself. “Is that all?” He nudged the axe, disdain tainting his words. Tommy bit the inside of his cheek and slowly nodded.

“I’m sorry. I was searching for it- I know I shouldn’t be messy.”

Dream hummed.

How is it that the most free of us all became tamed like a dog? Tommy winced at his brother’s harsh words.

He could sense Ghostbur behind him, both amused and cruel in an ignorant way.

I’m just making an observation. You never listened to me, not how I wanted you to. Otherwise I wouldn’t be dead, would I? All you had to do was to follow, and you only know how to do it now? Disappointing.

“Have you checked your tent?” Dream asked nonchalantly, lighting up the TNT and letting Tommy have a purpose for today.

Tommy huffed but pushed his annoyance aside.

“I should check it again.” He told him, waiting for Dream to start walking first.

His tent was a miserable little thing, patched up and yet still leaking every time there was rain. There was a bed made of grass Tommy collected from the nearby meadow, with an old blanket and Wilbur’s coat, rolled up to serve as a pillow.

Tommy looked through the items Dream let him keep, and bit his lip.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have borrowed it, look at Tommy. He’s clearly distressed. You should apologise.”

Tommy turned to Dream, question on his lips; it looked as if the man was scolding the air.

“What?” He rasped, tasting blood on his tongue as he licked his dry lips.

Dream offered him the compass - it looked the same as always; almost. There was something slightly different about it; the magical humm under Tommy’s fingers, the way it glistered and shone. An enchantment.

“Ghostbur borrowed it. He just said so. Really, Tommy, you need to start listening when others are talking to you.” Dream scoffed. “He said that you and Tubbo wanted for those to point to each other, and he managed to make it work.”

“Oh. Uh, thank you.” Tommy glanced at the empty space near Dream. He did notice a glimpse of yellow and blue. 

Didn’t he tell that to Dream? He can’t remember.

He looked down on the compass, then at Dream’s hand. His fingers grasped the iron frame a bit tighter.

“Do I have to burn it?” He asked, fearing the answer. To his surprise, Dream started laughing and shook his head.

“Of course not! It’s good, see? I was wrong, Tubbo must still care about you, even if he’s angry.” Dream shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets and clicked his tongue. “I apologize for believing he doesn’t, though he didn’t make any sign that he does.”

Tommy stared at him, disbelief flooding his features. He wasn’t sure when was the last time someone actually apologised to him, and was honest about it.

It was nice.

“No big deal, big man. I know you care about me and were… upset. For me, that is.” Tommy hides the compass under his ‘pillow’ hesitating for a second, watching the spinning needle. “Thank you. And, uh, thank you too, Ghostbur.”

He heard giggles and a soft humming. 

He went outside, Dream following him close; this time, he wasn’t searching for resources. The man gave him food and offered him a dull sword, saying something about proper training.

“You need to be better. And for that, you need to not only learn how to behave, but also how to be useful. At your core, you’re a soldier. And if you are one, then you need to know how to fight.”

Tommy tried to fight Dream; a part of him wondered if this was just yet another way for the man to display how much above Tommy he stood.

If you’d run, he would catch you with ease, Ghostbur teased, not cruel or mean, just stating a fact. Tommy shook his head and took a deep breath. He has no reason to run.

He took fighting stance, leaning to the left; when, just as he suspected, Dream tried to block his move, he quickly switched legs, jumped to the right and managed to trip him with his sword.

Dream stumbled but he didn’t fall; he quickly regained balance and started fighting Tommy.

The thing was, Tommy saw the way Piglin brutes fight; brute force, close to their opponent. Dream was cunning, more skilled and dodging and running, letting the opponent become exhausted and confused.

Finally, he fell, sword at his neck. Dream offered him a hand and he took it.

“Not bad. Maybe you’re not so useless.”

Tommy nodded and stumbled, his muscles aching.

“Has… has Ranboo written to me?”

“Oh?” Dream stilled, then searched through his pocket and gave Tommy a crinkled paper. “I sat on it, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, no problem, big man.” Tommy read through it and sighed with relief. Just some news about his friend’s adventures; he described his work as a minute man, never outright complaining, but there were some undertones of it in the way he described how most of Tubbo’s cabinet don’t make any sense.

Tommy wouldn’t be able to say why exactly he ruined whatever trust he built with Dream. It was a day like any other, started with Dream dragging him back to the shore from where he sleepwalked into the ocean.

He was cold and angry, and that familiar ire started building up inside him the moment he got dumped on the sandy beach.

Dream pushed his mask to the side, looking at him angrier than before. His hair was sticking to his face, and his clothes were soaked.

There was rain falling onto them, mud sticking to Tommy’s hands as he tried to catch a breath.

He hasn’t felt rested for quite some time by now, with Ghostbur following him everywhere - most of the time Tommy didn’t actually even see him, but his voice was loud and clear, more than anything.

He thought of the phantom he killed back in Pogtopia, of Dream’s training that he felt too tired to deal with, and so when the man presented him with a dug hole for his items, Tommy snapped.

He was cold, shivering and soaked, and more to it he was so hungry. And sleepwalking was becoming a much bigger issue - one day Dream might arrive too late. Or Tommy could drift so far from the shore that he wouldn’t even know how to get back.

He tried to make Dream trip and succeeded, the man falling behind and into the hole, clearly surprised by his sudden outburst.

Oh, are you playing a soldier now? Little fighter, little flame. I was worried it was completely extinguished.

Tommy gritted his teeth, the anger overcoming him. His body was aching, he lost his shoe and his clothes were torn and dirty. He didn’t look like a soldier, just like a street rat who had no one to care about.

Wilbur- Ghostbur sounded amused. Tommy found that most of the time, even when he said vicious things, he did so with a childlike wonder, as if he couldn’t register the cruelty behind them.

He flipped Dream off, his heart racing.

“Fuck you, bitch.” He snarled, kicking sand into the man’s eyes.

Dream climbed out of the hole and immediately grabbed Tommy’s wrists, kicking him in the knee when he started struggling against his hold.

“I am so disappointed.” Dream’s voice was gentle but stern. “You were doing so good. I can’t believe you’re making me punish you.”

“I-“ Tommy choked, fear overcoming his anger. “I don’t know why I did that- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please don’t-“

“Tommy, you need to learn. I’m only punishing you because I care about you. Parents discipline their children all the time. It’s a sign of love, you should be thankful for it. It means that I didn’t give up on you, when everyone else thinks you’re beyond saving.”

Tommy clenched his teeth, shame crawling onto his cheeks and ears in the form of a brightly red blush.

Dream forced him to lay on the ground and stood on his wrist with his foot, immobilising it from moving.

Tommy gasped, his eyes widening at the sight of the dagger Dream was holding. The man spread his fingers apart and pointed the blade at the middle one.

“You won’t be using it anymore. I’m doing you a favor. Really, Tommy, I can’t believe you’re making me do this. I only ever wanted to help you.”

“No, no- Dream, Dream please. Stop, stop, you’re hurting me-“ Tommy sobbed, his whole body shaking. “I’ll be good! I’ll behave, I will never disobey you- please!”

His pleas turned into screams when Dream lifted the blade and then quickly brought it down with enough force to almost fully cut the finger off in one swift move.

Tommy screamed until his voice turned hoarse and his throat started aching. He threw up, vomit staining his ratted clothes and face, as he still lay down, head pressed in the sand that his blood was slowly soaking into.

The mud was red, and it reminded him of a place he once called home. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything he ever felt before.

Dream stitched the skin between his pointer and ring fingers close, and bandaged his hand. Tommy didn’t fight him; his body felt as if it was submerged deep in cold water, and he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think or scream anymore; he was left frozen, stuck in one spot, looking at the amputated finger laying across him.

Dream crouched beside him.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe you made me do it, Tommy. I care for you, alright? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want for you to be better. You’re like a brother to me, that’s why I care so much.”

Tommy didn’t answer. His eyes didn’t leave the finger, covered in blood, broken bone protruding from the spasming muscles and ripped skin.

Dream brushed his hair from his face and went towards his boat. He glanced back at Tommy.

“Keep it clean, we don’t want you to get an infection.”

The next few days were a blur. It took Tommy two weeks to finally become responsive again, though, much to Dream’s delight, he’s been more obedient than ever before. His visits were a bit shorter - something about troubles brewing in the Mainland. He didn’t say much about it, and Tommy didn’t dare to ask, briefly wondering if the price would be his other middle finger.

His hand felt awkward, and he had phantom pains through most of the days after that. For the first three, he avoided looking at it completely. Then, when he finally dared to do so, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

Technoblade has three fingers, does he not? You’re more like him now. Maybe you should cut off your pinky so you fully match.

“It doesn’t work like that, Ghostbur.” Tommy explains patiently, dragging a log through the grass. He puts it next to others, counting them. “Didn’t we bring thirteen of those?”

Twelve. I helped you drag one but I keep phasing through it.

The voice was clear now, almost less scary, if Tommy didn’t think about it for too long.

Tommy sat on the log and sighed, digging in his pocket for a piece of paper and a bit of coal. It coated his fingers in the back dust, so he absentmindedly wiped them on his shirt.

He wrote to Ranboo, apologizing for not replying to his letters sooner. Dream was still bringing them, and all were praising Tommy’s progress. It was validating, to see that Dream was right, and he was truly just trying to help.

You should tell him.

“No-“ Tommy coughs. His body’s temperature has been acting off, if he could say so. Last thing he needed was to get sick.

I trusted you with how bad I was.

“And look how good of a job I did with helping you.” Tommy barked, his patience snapping. A sudden wave of anxiety engulfed him. “I- Sorry-“

Good. I like this anger. The spirit smiled widely. You can’t change, can you? You may pretend for Dream but I know the truth. You’re as bad as I am. That’s why everyone left you. And just like I only had you, you only have Dream. It’s almost tragic how alike we are.

Tommy’s hands shook and he took a deep breath, then wrote to Ranboo, words spilling out of him as if they were waiting for his hand to touch the paper.

When he handed Dream the letter later that day, the goat hybrid only shrugged and promised to deliver it as soon as possible. He changed Tommy’s bandages and praised his behavior when he wordlessly threw all his tools in the hole.

What Tommy didn’t expect was the letter he got in return.

“I don’t understand.” He said, clenching the paper in his healthy hand. Dream raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

“What do you not understand?”

Tommy knew his voice was shaking and cracking. There was an angry sob stuck in his throat.

“Ranboo- I thought he was my friend.”

“Did something happen?”

“He wrote… he wrote that I shouldn’t make him carry my burden, and that it’s not his job to fix me- he doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” He whispered, avoiding Dream’s eyes. The man frowned and pushed his mask aside.

“Why would he write that?” Dream clicked his tongue. “You’re doing so good. There’s no reason for him to be mean.”

Tommy clenched his hands into fists. He was scared, but he also knew that Dream wouldn’t punish him if he didn’t do anything bad.

“I told him that you cut my finger off, and that it made me depressed.”

Dream was silent for a longer while, seemingly processing his words.

“Oh. I understand.” He said, and sat next to Tommy. “Hey, you see- how do I explain this? You’re a bit sick, Tommy. In the same way Wilbur was. You’re codependent on people, and most of them - the ones that are healthy - don’t appreciate that.  When you have a problem, it’s yours to take care of, and if you share it, you might drive people away. Everyone has their own problems to carry, if you give them yours as well, you’ll be nothing but a burden to them.”

Tommy bit his lip and nodded, his chest feeling hollow.

“Look at Technoblade. He never told you when he was hurt or why he lived alone despite being a pack creature. But you-“

“I was a burden.” Tommy whispered, thinking about all the times Techno helped him. Even the beginning, how they met, was putting them in unequal positions. It was Tommy who always needed saving. Tommy, who Technoblade had to take care of. He almost died because of Tommy too - he still remembered the infection and the lost look in his eyes as they tried to rescue Sally.

Always the fighter, never the fought for.

It was no surprise that he finally left.

“But you’re going to be better, isn’t that right?”

He nodded mutely. There wasn’t much else to say.

“Tubbo destroyed his compass. Perhaps Ranboo told him that you’re not making progress.” Dream said a week later, when he caught Tommy staring at his.

“What? No, Tubbo wouldn’t.” He tried to argue. He looked down on the needle, still pointed towards L’manburg.

Would he?

“I’m sorry. But that’s okay! You don’t need them anyway. You’re better off alone! We’re the same- we only need each other.”

“Right.” Tommy stared at his compass, anger growing inside of him, consuming him like fire.

He marched up towards the portal and through it. He ignored the heat biting at his skin, sweat slowly coating him from head to toe. The Piglins were looking up at him as he climbed on the bridge and stopped near the edge. The lava was hot, almost inviting. He held his hand out, holding the compass only by the chain.

Dream caught up to him and slowly approached.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t need him. I don’t fucking need him.” Tommy clenched his hand on the brittle iron chain. “I don’t need anyone.”

You’re alone and it’s all your own doing.

Is it?

Dream grabbed his hand and pulled him back from the edge.

“Step away.” He warned, then grabbed the compass to put it in Tommy’s hand. “Keep it.”

“Why? You said so yourself, he doesn’t need me, he doesn’t even want me-“

“It’s a trophy. A reminder. Attachments slow you down. Attachments are a weakness. Keep it so you never forget.” Dream tilted his head to the side. “Besides, you’re not Tubbo, are you?”

Tommy looked at the compass. He shook his head. Perhaps if he was, he wouldn’t be so alone.

“Come on, let’s train for a bit, clear that head of yours.” Dream nudged him. “They’re better off without you and you’re better off without them. We’re the same, we don’t need anyone.”

Tommy stayed silent, not daring to say that he didn’t want to be like Dream.

He looked towards the edge, his chest still hollow. Some tiny voice inside him wondered how it would feel to jump.

Chapter Text

The wind carried whatever was left of the photographs, away from that forsaken beach. Tommy tried to chase after them, squeezing tightly one taken many years ago, before he felt like control was slipping away.

The smile on Sally’s face looked as if she was mocking him, and the image of the table, full of food, made his stomach hurt. When was the last time he ate? He started eating grass and leaves; it was hard to get any real food with how isolated the island was. No animals, no nothing. He though about going to the Nether, but Dream forbid him from doing so without him after his last slip up.

He could still feel netherrack under his bare feet as he felt the words: “it’s never my time to die” escape his mouth. Dream’s presence, looming over his shoulder, a pinched look on his face and a stern grasp he had on his shoulder.

Tommy wondered, albeit briefly, if it was enough to stop him from jumping. He feared the answer.

Without Ghostbur’s unclear voice, almost as foggy and washed up as Tommy’s memories of his Wilbur, the real one, not whatever this was, his head felt clearer.

The burns on his forearms and legs hurt, but he hadn’t had any more bandages to spare. There wasn’t anything left, only a crater in the ground, filled with choking smoke. He should’ve known better than to keep things. Dream was helping him, and now he drove him away, just like he did with everyone else.

“I’ll be back in a week, maybe by then you’ll learn. I’ll be here to watch you,” Tommy couldn’t remember when was the last time he begged so desperately. Apologies spilled from his mouth, but they were of no use. He was left alone, hungry, injured, without any resources to keep himself safe, or at the very least warm. With a singed photograph in his hands, feeling utterly helpless and jealous of the times it depicted.

His climb to the cliff wasn’t terrifying. The finality set in his veins, but so did the numbness. Waves were crashing into the rocks, hitting the cliffside and climbing upwards. The ocean looked inviting, welcoming.

It would’ve been better if Tommy listened. If he disappeared. Everyone was doing better - without him. With every single of his fears confirmed, he found himself staring into the ocean, with nothing else to lose.

His skin flickered for a moment, but it was quickly over, gone before he could notice.

Maybe, if he couldn’t be loved, he could be used. Usefulness was better than being disregarded, thrown to the side like a broken toy.

Tommy was a name made for a soldier, and the mold fit him perfectly.

“If I get wings,” he whispered into the wind, letting it carry his words into the distance, “I will cut them off.” The way down seemed to be a long one, but it wasn’t that Tommy had never fallen so greatly before.

A son who didn’t know how to have a father, a child who couldn’t save his brother, a soldier who never won any battle. A friend who could never be good enough.

A failure.

“I will cut them off and-“ his voice got cut short by a sob. Philza promised to stay and try, but he didn’t. Tommy would never allow himself to keep wings; not if it meant that he would be able to escape.

Dream would know what to do. He helped Tommy; handed him a trident when he felt like he wanted to fly. The stars seemed so close, for a moment, until the loneliness of the sky became apparent. No sounds, no smells. Only the cold air that stung at his cheeks and bandaged hands.

A cake and a table with no guests, only one pair of eyes that rarely looked away, always-

“Watching.” He was bleeding through his bandages, his right leg was covered in burns, and the skin started peeling off of it in a rotten mess. He stood, staring into the ocean. L’manberg called him. He heard home calling his name, a gentle song carried by the cold wind.

How many times had he tried to swim there? Too far away to be reached, his legs bound to the ground.

The song stopped, and so did the wind.

“He was only-“ he swallowed, struggling to breathe. “He was only there to watch me.”

The compass swayed with sudden movement as he came closer to the edge. He thought of the lava, warm and inviting, much less scary than the unforgiving waves. It was always calm, as it fell in a bright cascade over the basalt pillars.

“He wasn’t my friend. He was only here to watch me.” The picture he managed to save was ruined by how hard he was holding onto it. The creases on the paper never got Sally’s smile to disappear off of it. Out of everything that survived the fire, the memory of her stayed with him, singed, crumpled, blurred, but as present as always.

When was the last time he thought of home?

A gentle hum of the portal interrupted his thoughts. He stared into the distance, searching for the inviting purple glow. He looked to the side, and took his ruined socks and the remaining shoe, letting them fall and disappear under the waves. He imagined himself; falling down. Maybe with wings, ones that would get broken on the rocks, spread in a tragic display of mangled limbs.

If he squinted, the stars reflecting in the water looked like L’manburg’s lights.

Tubbo was happy. Philza left him. Ranboo didn’t want to carry his burdens.

His skin flickered once again. The hum of the portal was louder than the ocean. It was calling him.

His heart beat hard, he could hear it in his ears as he crossed the obsidian frame.

The netherrack was warm under the soles of his feet. He stepped further into the red forest, not waiting for the nausea to pass. His skin was covered in sweat, but he couldn’t care less.

A single, black feather was tangled into a nearby vine. The mushroom spores floated in the air, filling it with a certain smell he got used to so, so many years ago. The mixture of smoke, sulfur and the characteristic smell of Nether’s flora filled his lungs.

He clutched two familiar beads he kept in his trousers’ pocket, both worn by time, in his bleeding hand, squeezing them tightly. A lifeline, one that would guide him home when nothing else could.

“He was never my friend.” He spoke. His voice was breaking, a sob choking him as he refused to let it escape. His hands shook the same way they did when he made a mistake, Dream’s netherite sword looming over his head. He squeezed the beads harder, wincing when the twigs he was maneuvering around brushed against his bruises. “Friends don’t hurt each other like this.”

A memory of Tubbo’s laughter, however faint, calmed him. The scraped knees and elbows, the bandages painted with a flower dye. Sally’s soft laughter, Fundy’s complaints and Wilbur’s stern lecture about taking care of each other.

“Friendship doesn’t hurt like this.” Two hooved hands maneuvering around his body, desperate oinking and snorting filling up the air as his injuries from a Hoglin attack were being attended to. The carefulness and kindness with which Technoblade gave him food, caring for a stranger he didn’t know.

The memory of Technoblade trying with a rising desperation to save Sally, risking his own life in return-

“He was bad for me,” he reassured himself, the bruises littering his body aching in agreement. Friendship did hurt sometimes. Wilbur’s insults, turned into sobs that wrecked his whole body; Tubbo, avoiding looking at him as Dream escorted him to exile. The withers destroying everything with deadly explosions.

But the kindness lingered, and even if it was gone now, it was never as destructive and hurting as the one that Dream offered.

“You’re on our sounder’s hunting grounds,” an angry snort made its way to him. Tommy paused, swaying in place and trying to keep himself steady. His foot was hurting, and he didn’t know how much longer he could count on the numbness filling him.

The Piglin’s ears were pinned to the back of her skull. She bared her tusks and held her crossbow higher, stomping on the ground. Her hooves dug into the netherrack, bent in a position that would make it easier to aim.

“I mean no harm,” Tommy bared his neck and then, when he heard a satisfying snort, bowed his head low. “I’m passing through. I don’t have any means to hunt for Hoglins, and I don’t have any gold to offer to you.”

“An Overworlder who knows our tongue?” Intrigued, she leaned closer. Her grip on the crossbow was still stern, but her tail started wagging slowly. “You’re the lonely one. The one without a sounder.”

“I-“ Tommy frowned. Technoblade’s empty house flashed in his memories. “I’m looking for my way home,” he said instead. If he even had one.

“You have a-“ she made a gesture as if she was holding up a string, then made another one, placing her hand on her right collarbone and moving it to the left one. “Do you know what that means?”

“My sounder.” Technoblade never ripped it from him, never took it. The only confirmation that there was hope.

The Piglin lowered her crossbow and snorted. She tilted her head.

“I met him when we were both young. He took me as his, and I him as mine.”

“Not from a proper Bastion, then.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Tommy tilted his head, then dug his good foot into the ground, wincing when he put too much weight on the injured one.

“I’m not interested in your stories. My life is to hunt, to prevail.” She pointed him forward. “Search for what you’re looking for, and if the Nether is kind, she will help you find it.”

Tommy didn’t respond to her blessing. He shook his head and started walking. The Ghast flying above the cliffs slowed his journey, as he took refuge in some long forgotten dens. He cut the red vines, more than needed, just in case his trip happened to be a long one.

The red netherrack dust bled into the cold grey of the basalt craters. He manouvered between them, a surprised yelp escaping his throat when he slipped and burnt his toes on the lava.

The skin on his foot was starting to look black, and it began to become so numb it made it difficult to travel.

Tommy sat on a higher pillar, watching Magma Cubes jump around. The Nether was peaceful, quiet with the exception of the thumping heartbeat of it. He closed his eyes; looking into lava only made Dream’s shadow appear in his peripheral vision.

He bit his lip and climbed up, putting his weight on the side of another pillar. A Soulsand beach was groaning faintly in the distance, blue spirits escaping it under Skeleton’s and rotten Poglin’s feet.

The blue fires burning on the edge of it seemed welcoming, for a moment.

Tommy shook his head and continued on, sparing one glance at his compass. The needle was spinning uselessly, either from the other one being broken, as Dream said, or from Tommy being in the Nether. He hid it under his shirt, ignoring the sting in his heart.

The trip reminded him of something from before, but this time the air was silent, opposed to the mindless chatter. No firepits, no sleeping bags. His stomach was empty, not an alien feeling, but it didn’t mean it was any less upsetting.

The hum of the Nether was relaxing. It was the fourth or fifth day that he stopped looking over his shoulder. Dream might’ve been smart and fast, but it’s Tommy who spent most of his life navigating through those kinds of terrains.

A gruff snort interrupted his attempts to climb up a narrow path up a cliff.

A Hoglin stared at him. Which wouldn’t be such a surprise, if not for the fact that the nearest Red Forest was a day and a half away, and he was nearing the edge of a Warped Forest, where Hoglins wouldn’t usually even attempt to go in search of food. The roots growing there weren’t sweet enough for them.

It snorted loudly again, making no move in his direction. Tommy squinted, then a flood of emotions overtook him. He took a hesitant step forward, outstretching his hand.

Nutpig nuzzled into it, her massive body almost slamming into Tommy’s. She squealed happily, wagging her tail and dancing all around him.

“Fuck-“ Tommy hugged her tightly, wincing when she moved with his body still attached to her giant head. She was careful not to graze him with her tusks. The familiar scars littered her body, and even after all those weeks, months, she still recognised Tommy as her own. “You’re here. You’re here!”

She shook him off, then started walking, slowly, stopping and waiting for him to join her.

Tommy looked at the beads in his hand; the compass felt heavy against his chest.

“I’m coming,” he promised.

The wooden door in front of him was possibly the scariest thing he ever had to face. His hand was raised, knuckles positioned against the dark oak frame.

Nutpig grunted from her little feeding space. After guiding him to the little cabin, she seemed satisfied enough with her work and, with one last pet she demanded from him, she returned to her spot.

The cabin looked slightly different from the one Tommy was used to, but not unfamiliar. It was in an isolated spot, far from any communal paths or Basions. The white concrete was the biggest surprise, if he had to be honest. There wasn’t a place in the Nether where it could be found. It had to be transported from the Overworld.

He took a deep breath, the beads still in his hand, as if they would shield him from a rejection. Long, dirty hair, filled with twigs, leaves, dust and - possibly - insects, fell on his face, hiding it from view.

He knocked and his heart went silent.

Faced with the finality of his decision, the shy knock felt like an executioner’s axe. He stayed in place, his legs hurting, his hands covered in bandages, and his whole body feeling too big for him.

A faint sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, the door handle turning-

A man stood on the other side of it. Tommy was taken aback by the rusty blond curls - not quite golden, not quite pink, meeting somewhere in between - and blue eyes, identical to what he remembered his own to look like. Hooved legs and hands, a very familiar height.

The man’s eyes widened, and he bared his teeth, showing off two tusks. His ears shot up in alarm, and Tommy noticed that a tail started curling between his legs.

Golden scars littered Technoblade’s human face, and yet, somehow, Tommy was able to recognise him with no place in his heart for doubt.

“Please,” he rasped. That seemed to bring Technoblade out of his shock.

“Tommy?” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Tommy stared at him, avoiding his eyes and baring his neck. The beads felt heavy in his hand. A familiar chuff took the tension off his shoulders. He lifted his head: Technoblade chuffed, lifted his right ear and stomped on the floorboards twice. “Tommy,” he repeated, and it sounded as if something within him was breaking.

“I have nowhere else to go. Please,” Tommy begged, baring his neck again. His whole body was shaking.

Two hands landed on his shoulders and brought him closer. Technoblade sniffed at him, his face scrunched up in displeasure as he buried it in his dirty locks.

“Runt. Runt-“ other words were barely coherent. His pupils expanded, and he brushed Tommy’s hair from his face. “Tommy.”

Not knowing what to say, Tommy finally looked in Techno’s eyes, forcing himself to not look away.

“I think I’m technically an orphan now, big man. Can we still be cool?”

Technoblade paused, flabbergasted. His pupils shrunk a little. Tommy fumbled with his shirt, and then - a loud laugh startled him.

“As long as you don’t bring my property value too low.” With the invitation, Tommy followed him inside.

As soon as he sat in the living room, the excitement started to leave him. The faux confidence he wore daily was only one of many things he seemingly left in Logstedshire. Even his anger, the one he had grown so used to, was nothing but a burned out exhaustion.

Technoblade played with the tuft at the end of his tail, his ears low and his shoulders up.

“I’ll be good, this time. I promise,” Tommy said quickly. He didn’t notice as Technoblade straightened up. “I’m sorry that I made you leave. I’ll be useful. I can hunt. I can clean. I can get you resources-“

“What happened, Tommy?”

“I-“ the Logstedshire was nothing but a smoking crater. The waves crashed into the rocks at the bottom of the cliffside, and Tommy’s body could’ve been flying in their direction- “I fucked up.”

Techno’s ear flickered. He didn’t make any other movements.

“Why did you leave?” Tommy found himself asking instead. Like a spark near gunpowder, the anger inside him exploded. “No. No, you don’t get to fucking ask what happened, Tommy. Mimimi, I’m Technoblade and I care. Believe me. That’s why I would leave you after your brother-“ he made a choked sound. “Wilbur killed himself and you fucking left!”

“You had Phil-“

“I don’t know him! I didn’t want a fucking stranger to tell me it’s going to be fine! I wanted my brother! And you- you fucking left me!” His cheeks burnt. Every single bruise on his body stinged in pain.

He huffed, pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in them.

“Phil doesn’t know the shitty songs Wil used to write. He doesn’t know that I learnt how to cook, he doesn’t keep my embroidery. He hasn’t been my dad for years.” He mumbled.

In place where Phil’s hand should’ve been, Wil’s always rested. The long nights when he got sick with the flu and Wilbur kept playing his guitar to help him sleep, the awful meals that were too burnt or too raw, because before Technoblade, no one ever bothered to teach them how to cook.

The pillows Tommy decorated with embroidery were behind Techno, on the sofa.

“I just wanted to go home,” he whispered.

Looking at his hands, he scowled at how unrecognizable they became. They were trembling, more than they ever did before. Adorned with cuts and scars - Tommy briefly wondered if they made him look older. He lifted his gaze and met the one of the Piglin. He looked at him with remorse, ears pinned to the back of his head. Tommy wondered when exactly he became so good at reading Technoblade’s feelings.

“You are home,” he said. The teen looked away, frowning. “Tommy. You loved a sacrificed everything again and again, and the world just took more and more,” Technoblade shook his head and approached Tommy, kneeling before him. He took his hands into his own, then put them together, four fingers against three. The Piglin frowned, concern flickering in his eyes.

The gesture felt familiar. A welcoming greeting, reminding them of a time long passed. Tommy felt like then too - a scared child, who got lost on his way.

His brother - because that’s what he was now, the last person who didn’t turn away, who still tried, with a necklace twin to Tommy’s hung around his neck - squeezed his hand gently.

“You loved, but nobody loved you back in the same way.” He brought Tommy closer, and the teen hid his face in his chest. “You deserve to be loved, kid. I’m here now. You don’t have to be brave anymore.” Tommy clung to him, flinching when two strong arms surrounded him in kind. “Let it out.”

Tears streamed down Tommy’s cheeks, and he let himself get lost in the emptiness of the despair and loneliness he was feeling. Every insult, every night when he had to promise that he wouldn’t leave. The years of waiting for a father that never came, the letters that never got a response back.

Sally, dying underneath a fallen roof. Wilbur, with a look of relief on his face as he collapsed into Philza’s arms.

He sobbed, burying his face in Techno’s chest, because somehow he was still there.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” he choked. “Why weren’t you there?! You left me with-“ a sob stopped him.

He didn’t feel strong. He felt small. But Philza wasn’t here, and he hadn’t cried in so long.

“Please don’t leave me,” he settled on, fear tainting his words. Technoblade held him closer, tighter. So many things left unaddressed, with Tommy’s blood staining his shirt, and a face capable of expressions, now scrunched into a pained frown.

“I won’t,” was the answer he gave, and let Tommy unravel in his arms.

Chapter Text

Tommy didn’t ask Technoblade about his human features. He didn’t ask him about his reason for leaving. He didn’t ask him anything at all, after screaming for hours for keeping their necklace, because it proved that, despite everything he was told, Techno actually cared and still considered him his sounder.

He was tired, and the fear of showing utter lack of respect was almost soul-crushing, and his hands still trembled with barely contained anger.

“I don’t understand,” he wanted to say, but he didn’t make a sound; instead, he watched as Techno maneuvered between the furniture, all of it way nicer than the one he had in his last house; they were all made with proper care, with resources that were available only in the Overworld.

They were made with a skill only a human could possess; despite being equal once, Tommy knew that their differences made them experience the world in a way the other couldn’t comprehend completely.

When Technoblade made something, it required more precision out of him; even with limbs similar to one another - two hands and two legs - his eyes worked a tad bit differently - enough for him to struggle with tasks that were easy for humans.

More accustomed to the darkness, to the dry and hot air of the nether. He never once spoke about the light of the Overworld confusing him or blinding him, but when Tommy got to see how he walked now, after the changes in his appearance happened, it became clear that something else changed too.

Now they didn’t seem equal at all.

Tommy was a kid stumbling through life, without any direction to follow. A parasite that clings to others in a vain attempt of finding something that would feed his own ego.

Techno returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray with a bowl of stew and a golden apple. Tommy eyed it, refusing to make eye contact.

Techno left it on the table in front of him and sat down in his armchair, his tail swinging idly.

There was something strange in the whole scenario - once, they wouldn’t have spent a minute in silence like that one; now, it seemed that all of their interactions carried that uneasy feeling of awkwardness. Like they forgot how to talk to each other.

Techno chuffed and Tommy stilled, his eyes squeezed shut.

He braced himself for some disciplinary action; for a scolding monologue, for Techno’s disdain over his lack of manners.

For not being better, despite trying so hard to.

Unlovable.

And yet, Techno stayed unmoving, glancing at the bowl, then at Tommy. The teen bit his lower lip, his stomach churning. He was so hungry and so tired, but he didn’t deserve any of that kindness.

“You could at the very least thank him before you force him into feeding this to you, because you’re too scared to do it yourself,” Ghostbur’s amused voice made him flinch; Techno’s ears moved slightly, twitching.

“I, uh- I can leave if you don’t want me here-“ he started, chuckling nervously. “I ate like a pig after my appearance changed and I still haven’t figured out how to shift between- yeah.”

So he can change his forms; Tommy noted, dutly, like any good soldier would’ve.

Technoblade’s new face didn’t make him uncomfortable because it was weird seeing him with something other than a snout; he never cared for his appearance, because he was simply more than that.

What made him uncomfortable was how much that new face of Techno’s resembled his own; big blue eyes, freckles on the nose. A dimple in his left cheek, the nose pointed upwards. Even his hair was a mixture between the rusty colour of his Piglin fur and Tommy’s golden curls.

Hybrids inherited traits of those who they trusted most.

Tommy was terrified of what this meant.

“I can… eat that?” He hated himself for how insecure he sounded. His voice quivered and Techno stilled instantly, like a lever was pulled.

He shouldn’t have asked.

“You’re learning manners now? Kid, last time we saw each other you would’ve jumped on the food even if I prepared it for myself and severely undercooked it.”

The joke landed flat; last time they met, Tommy was half-starved, feeding off of rotten vegetables and whatever he was able to find in the forest.

Last time they saw each other, Tommy was struggling to fight for what others might’ve seen as freedom while trapped under Wilbur’s dependent grasp.

Last time he might’ve refused to eat, because his pride wouldn’t let him and his guilt over going behind Wil’s back would’ve gotten rid of his appetite.

But there was a time when he ate without asking, when Techno brought food and Tommy hadn’t even considered thanking him.

“That’s why Phil left. You’re ungrateful,” something inside him whispered; he wasn’t sure anymore if it sounded like Wilbur, or just like himself. „No one wants a broken toy soldier.”

“Tommy?” Runt, Techno repeated, and Tommy shook his head; he was going to vomit from how much his anxiety spiked from his gentle, uncertain tone.

He cradled his hand to his chest, and, without the middle finger it really did resemble Techno’s hand more.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked, and Technoblade backed away. “I don’t have anything-“ he clung to the compass hanging from his neck. To the two beads on a necklace. “I will repay you. I will do whatever you need me to- I’ll be good.”

He needed Dream. Dream would’ve known what to do. He stayed at his side despite how annoying, ungrateful and irredeemable Tommy was.

Techno stayed silent, calculating. Then, he slowly got up and, after a moment, returned with his own spoon.

“How about we eat it together? Like the old times,” those, Tommy did miss. Everything was much simpler back then.

So, he eats. One spoon after another, then he moved to the golden apple and but it until all that was left was a core - normally, he would’ve eaten it as well, taught by starvation that seeped deep into his bones - but something snapped, and suddenly he was as angry as ever, and his hands felt heavy with all the blood he wanted to spill.

So he threw it in Techno’s face and paused only after it bounced off his forehead with a wet smack.

The Piglin stared at the pitiful remains of the apple, his face stained with juices and Tommy’s saliva.

And then he rolled his eyes and smiled, as if nothing bad happened.

“Bruh,” he groaned, picking the core up and eyeing Tommy. “Are you gonna eat that?”

If times were different, Wilbur would’ve snorted like a pig from his own crook that Techno allowed him to claim in his house, saying something about a pig in a pigsty, or how at least one of them isn’t a picky eater.

But times weren’t different, and Wilbur was gone, all that was left of him - a sad echo in the back of Tommy’s mind, with poisonous whispers and venomous hate.

“Why aren’t you punishing me?” Tommy asked, his hands shaking as badly as his voice. He felt his face heat up, cheeks red. “Fucking do something! Yell at me! Punish me! I misbehaved! I have to be punished!”

Techno took his hands into his and didn’t let go, even when Tommy flinched so violently he kicked him in the shin.

“Do you want me to?” He asked slowly, clearly as surprised by the development as Tommy was by the lack of consequences.

“Why are you kind to me? You should punish me- I was bad to you-“

“You’re my brother. That’s just something that brothers do. They fight, then they stop.”

“But-“ but Techno shouldn’t want him; he should’ve rejected him, should’ve taken the beads from him as soon as Tommy came to beg for help.

“Bruh,” Techno snorted and leaned closer, his forehead next to Tommy’s. “This kind of thing doesn’t just end when one of us is angry.”

Tommy wasn’t sure how many times Techno had called them brothers before; how many times did he truly admit it.

But it felt strangely new, hearing it like this; when he was a broken shell, when Technoblade clearly lived a better life far from him, and yet greeted him like he was coming home.

He let himself be held. 

He tried to be good, despite Techno’s half-hidden concerned glances; Tommy wasn’t made of glass; he could never be, because he wasn’t supposed to be fragile.

He cleaned around the house and didn’t eat unless he was directly ordered to; he ignored how Techno’s tail hung low every time he hesitated before taking a bite; how his ears twitched when Tommy had to bite his tongue and force himself into focusing on controlling his breathing.

They both danced around each other like they were nothing more but two strangers trapped within the same confined space.

At least Nutpig was making things easier - some of them, at the very least.

She snorted and squealed until Tommy pet her through the window, making sure that Technoblade wouldn’t see him lean through it, knees on the windowsill and left hand gripping the wooden frame; a risky attempt at not losing his balance and falling outside.

The Nether’s air bit his skin and welcomed him like a long lost friend; he stared at the lava for too long sometimes, but it felt more like home than an escape now.

“You’re going to catch a cold. And then my property value  will go down because of your germs,” Technoblade groaned, leaning on the wall beside him. Tommy blinked at him.

“Fuck you-“ he studied his face for a reaction, and when no rage came, he allowed himself to smile impishly; “Your property value can suck my-“

“I will stop you here.”

His heart rate must’ve been that of an adrenaline junkie - he’s been testing the limits, lately. Seeing how far he can make it until Technoblade snaps.

“You should get a polar bear. And a cow. Cow would be the best. And we would call her Henry.”

“I wouldn’t need a bull- her? Henry doesn’t seem too-“ he stared at Tommy, Tommy stared back, blinking blankly. Technoblade looked as if he was reaching yet another stage of depression before concluding; “Bob is a much nicer name.”

“It’s a name for a wrongun.” Tommy sniffed. “You don’t know shit. Clearly.”

Technoblade laughs, taken aback; it startled Tommy, making him curl into himself, but the moment lasted anyways. Unexpected, almost calling back to another lifetime entirely.

“I don’t know if I would want to learn from you. You look like a terrible teacher.”

“I would be a lovely teacher, thank you very much. I taught you so well that now you can insult me in my own language,” a snort, “if you’re so clever, you should teach.”

“I did, actually. And I taught you so well that you can insult everyone in my own language.”

“Wouldn’t have to if they weren’t all assholes,” Tommy grinned at him.

His cheeks were still sunken, his skin too pale and the bags under his eyes resembled bruises more than anything else. But, even if rare, the moment served as a reminder for them both; of normalcy, of moving forward.

“I should get you new clothes. Do you want some of mine?” Tommy eyed Techno, lifting his eyebrow - even human, he still towered over him.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” He asked instead, rubbing at the scratchy and patched up fabric of his shirt. Techno snorted, gave him a deadpan stare in response.

“You look like you’re homeless.”

Tommy stomped twice, then made a chuffing sound and a growl in the back of his throat. Techno sniffed.

“Don’t call me that, that’s offensive.” He scrunched up his nose and poked at Tommy’s shirt. The teen scowled and hugged himself, a naive form of protection against Technoblade’s judgemental stare. “It’s filthy. I think I saw a flea jump between the seams. Do you know how hard it would be to get rid of them? It’s hot in here, it’s the perfect breeding ground. I don’t want to burn my house down.”

“You’re saying that because you’re weak.”

“If they get in my fur, I will have to bathe in the snow. And if I have to, then I will take you down with me.”

Tommy rolled his eyes and did his best to call for his bravado.

“You’re just jealous of the relationship I have with my fleas, Techn-no-friends. In fact, I will soon create my own flea army. This was my plan all along! Together we will conquer the Overworld and then, when I’m drunk with power and the most powerful overlord, they will eat me alive as a karmic retribution for my sins.”

“Heh?”

“The fleas, Technoblade. The fleas see everything.”

Technoblade blinked at him, very slowly. When Tommy was ready to start celebrating his diversion, it turned out that it was, in fact, not strong enough of a distraction to keep Techno from remembering the main issue.

“I’ll get you my shirt,” he mumbled more to himself than to Tommy, then left the room.

The teen scowled; he brought his pointer finger to his neck - his heartbeat was fast, not enough to cause concern, but far from normal.

He looked at the plates left after their meal; he still couldn’t stomach more than one full meal a day, and he often forced himself to eat, scared of what Dream- Techno- Dream-

He grabbed the plate and threw it into the wall, watching with bitter and anxious satisfaction as it broke into tiny pieces, exploding upon impact.

Technoblade returned to the room, a folded shirt held tightly in his hand; his eyes, wide and wild, looked around.

The way he positioned his body screamed of a warrior emancipating an attack.

He looked at Tommy, who stared him down; a challenge.

His tail hung low; he left the shirt on the edge of the couch, then kneeled to pick up the shards of porcelain. With his hooved fingers, he struggled to pick the tiny pieces up from the floor, but it seemed that he was dead set on not leaving Tommy alone in the room until every single piece was gone.

He opened his mouth, hesitating. There was frustration lingering in his features; a vile thing, easy to miss. He sighed deeply.

Maybe neither of them were accustomed to the violent outbursts. Not when everything seemed fine seconds earlier.

He could’ve joked about needing to replace it anyways; he didn’t. He looked at Tommy, something within him snapping into place.

“Take the shirt and go to the den,” he said; a simple instruction.

With a terrifying ease, Tommy realised that he needed exactly that to get himself off the edge. Orders - those, he did know how to follow.

Maybe it was ironic for the canary to long for the cage it was locked in; maybe the familiarity of it put him at ease.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the mattress shifting slightly. An irrational fear, but fear nonetheless; he felt his breathing stutter when Technoblade’s tail brushed past his arm.

The fact that Techno had prepared a spare bedroom that clearly screamed of how much it belonged to Tommy was yet another thing they didn’t talk about.

“When Dream comes,” Tommy started whispering; so quiet and so unlike himself. Techno stilled beside him. “Could you hide when you hand me over? I don’t want-“ Tommy stopped, reconsidered. Pests like him don’t get to want. “I would appreciate if my last memory of you wasn’t- you know.”

The room went even more silent than it was before. Something in Technoblade’s posture changed slightly; softened, Tommy would assume if he were a bit more naive.

The Piglin chuffed.

“I’m not letting him take you.”

Tommy was shaking, his whole body beyond the grasps of his control. He didn’t look at Techno.

“You let him take me once already,” he pointed out. It’s unfair; he knew that there was little to no possibility that Technoblade knew about his exile. A childish part of him stubbornly believed that he would’ve rushed to be by his side if he knew.

Technoblade didn’t answer that. Tommy thought that those sorts of conversations happened only with Wilbur present.

He wasn’t supposed to be needy, to be petty.

“It won’t happen again,” the Piglin breaks the silence. “Those who hurt the ones I care about, that unkindness shall be repaid tenfold.”

Tommy snorted, against his better judgement. The proclamation of loyalty both did and didn’t matter at all - if Techno still considered them to be a sounder, if he kept Tommy safe despite the fact that his presence was causing more problems than he was ready to face, then, despite the fear and the general knowledge of the fact of how unworthy of it all he was, Tommy knew that Technoblade still cared. Wouldn’t betray him.

“You won’t let him take me,” he repeated blankly. Technoblade chuffed; a confirmation. “You should.”

“I fucking hate you,” Tommy mumbled into the collar of his shirt, coughing profusely.

Technoblade leaned on the tree, an amused smile pressed to his lips.

“Skill issue,” he ignored Tommy’s groans and curses.

He didn’t point out that Tommy’s lack of physical condition was due to malnutrition. He didn’t say anything about him being out of shape because of months of starvation and general lack of sleep. Of infections and illnesses left untreated.

Even living together again, Tommy failed to fix his sleep schedule, waking up in the middle of the night, facing either night terrors or sleep paralysis.

He never told Technoblade what he saw; how he could see Wilbur’s shadow standing by the edge of his bed, the ram horns curling around his ears.

How sometimes his face morphed into Philza’s, and the coat unfolded into wings; how Tommy tried to scream for him to save him, and how every time he made a sound Philza vanished.

Sometimes he caught glimpses of Sally’s charred fingers, the skin on her face melting like wax.

Worst of all, he saw Tubbo, staring at him, indifferent. During the nights where, despite being buried under layers upon layers of furs and blankets, Tommy still felt the coldness of the beach in Logstedshire, Tubbo always was present: watching idly as Dream beat Tommy to death, or took all his stuff, or hugged him and told him how much he cared.

Somehow, he never once saw Technoblade. Sometimes there was a portal frame somewhere in the background, the wooshing sound begging for him to follow; most times, it startled him awake.

Tommy turned to Techno, pointing his sword in his direction. The blade shimmered with enchantments, and felt good in his hand; tailored to his height and weight - or, rather, his proper weight.

“You’re torturing me. When we meet another sounder they will go, poor Tommy, his own brother is trying to kill him, and you’ll be like, bruuuuh I am literally just making him suffer why are you all judgin’ me. I am big and scary.”

“I don’t sound like that.”

“So you agree that this is what you’d say, just not the tone.”

“Sure. You should pursue acting.”

“Maybe I will,” Tommy told him, then sneezed. The warped forest hummed a melody. An Enderman teleported near them; Tommy bowed his head, and, when he noticed that Techno was still looking around, yanked him down by the collar of his shirt.

“Bruh-“

“Don’t look at him!” Then, Tommy jumped from the Piglin as if he was burnt. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Technoblade ignored his cries and tilted his head to the side.

“I’ve encountered Endermen before. I think I know how to handle them, Tommy. They only get agitated if humans look them in the eyes.”

Tommy took a deep breath and dug his nails into his forearm.

“And what do you look like now?”

Technoblade paused, considering his words for a moment. It looked like it was only then that it struck him.

He sniffed, following Tommy’s example. His ears pricked up when the creature walked past them, mumbling something in its language.

“Bruh, that is so inconvenient.” Technoblade rubbed his eyelids, scowling. The blue irises followed after Tommy.

With eyes no longer blank, it seemed that it made enough of a difference not only to his vision, but his general situation.

“Well, this sucks.”

Tommy stopped, looked at him and bursted out laughing.

With no further comments, off they went, in search of Hoglins. Two hours later they found a herd of them, all digging in the netherrack.

Technoblade handed Tommy his crossbow, nudging him gently in their direction. The latter frowned deeply, his hands shaking on the trigger.

He desperately tried to hide how hard it was to hold the weapon with his mangled hands.

“Do you think Nutpig will mind committing cannibalism?”

“I doubt it would be the worst crime she commited,” Techno shrugged. Tommy glanced at him, hesitating. Then, with a racing heart, he added:

“Yeah, the tax fraud was definitely worse.”

Technoblade snorted, then shook his head and pointed him to the Hoglins, urging him to take aim.

Tommy released the arrow and it sank deep into the skin of the creature; it collapsed on the ground and the herd near it scattered.

Hoglins were, in Nether’s conditions, a bit unique; they protected their offspring, attacked if it was harmed or approached, but at the same time they didn’t take risks if an adult specimen was hurt.

Perhaps it was logical, to prioritise their own life rather than a member of their herd; many of them were solitary, some even fought for territories.

“Well, today we will feast,” Techno said dryly, moving forward to take the dead Hoglin onto his back. Before doing that, he sliced its side, revealing the, still pulsating and moving, muscles.

Tommy stood still, breathing becoming hard; for a moment he found himself on the meadow near Logstedshire, surrounded by dead animals.

He saw their throats, all ripped open, as if a feral animal hunted them down and killed in a way to ensure as much pain as possible.

They suffered, and Tommy saw blood on the grass, on his hands and clothes.

And then it was over, and he was back in the Nether, watching as Technoblade approached him.

The Piglin turned his head to the side, a puzzled look on his face. Tommy shook his head, gathering his thoughts and courage.

“I would rather stay away from meat for a while, big man,” he stuttered over, refusing to look at him. With a shaky grin, he added: “You know me, big T. I’m bound to veganism.”

Technoblade frowned, glancing at their prize; Tommy flinched ever so slightly, awaiting his judgement; a session of scolding, berating him for being wasteful and ungrateful.

“Let’s go home, then. You’ll peel the potatoes.”

He looked up, but Technoblade was already walking away.

With no other thing left to do, Tommy followed.

“I have to go back,” Tommy whispered, looking outside the window. “He will forgive me if I go back. He’s my friend.”

Technoblade chuffed, his tail swaying from side to side. The slight change in his posture made Tommy realise how anxious he must’ve felt.

“Is he?” He asked, voice dry.

Tommy scowled.

“You don’t understand- he didn’t leave me. Everyone left, and he stayed! He wanted to help me! He wanted me to be good!”

Tommy didn’t steal, he didn’t take without asking. He ate his food even if he felt like vomiting, and he didn’t make a sound when Technoblade sat by his side in the den.

He wasn’t as loud, he used proper manners.

He still glanced at lava sometimes, hearing its call.

“He wanted to fix me.” He mumbled. “He did what he had to-“

“Would you let him treat Tubbo that way?”

“What?”

“Just askin’” Technoblade shrugged, seemingly disinterested.

Tommy looked at his hands, at the chipped paint on the wall where he threw the plate.

A patched tent set on the beach; clinging to a thin blanket as he heard the phantom screeches outside.

The letters, the explosions.

Putting his stuff in the hole.

“No,” he didn’t sound sure, because admitting this with confidence would’ve meant that he didn’t agree with what happened to him. That he did see the problem. That there truly was an issue with what Dream was doing.

“But he was my friend- no, no. He was only there to watch me. He’s bad for me- but he cared,” he turned to Techno, tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what to-“

“You have to figure it out yourself, runt. You have to tell me if Dream was your friend or not.”

Tommy bit his lower lip and dug his nails into his skin. He truly didn’t know the answer to that.

“I think- I reckon he enjoyed hurting me,” he slurred slowly, his whole body heavy.

Friends didn’t hurt each other like that. Maybe. He wasn’t sure anymore.

They were sitting in the kitchen; a group of Piglins living in a bastion nearby had traded with human merchants and managed to get cocoa alongside gold; a peace offering.

Human merchants wished to please them with such a gift; the nearest jungle was weeks away. It was unfortunate that to Piglins, cocoa was useless. At the same time, it was great news for Technoblade, who happened to come across them during his hunting trip.

So now there they were, in the kitchen, Technoblade looking through Niki’s culinary book on how to prepare hot cocoa, and Tommy staring blankly at the ingredients.

He grinded sugar cane into sugar, handed it to Technoblade silently. Ever since coming to him, Tommy felt himself slipping more and more.

He didn’t have hobbies, the embroidery felt strange, alien to him. He helped to cook only as a means of showing gratitude. He didn’t sing nor draw, nor sew.

He felt like the only thing he knew how to do anymore was to fight. And he was tired of it.

He glanced at Techno, who maneuvered around the kitchen, opening various cabinets and drawers in search of carefully crafted bowls and ornamented plates.

Minutes later - or hours, time no longer had much meaning to Tommy - he placed a mug with hot beverage in front of him, adding whipped cream to the top.

“My magnum opus,” he grunted, presenting it to Tommy; the latter snorted, but he sounded a bit dejected.

They were both standing on thin ice, despite living in the Nether. Always dancing around each other, careful not to cross anything that would ruin what they hoped to build.