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tommy is dragged from his bed by the inscessant sound of knocking on his door.
“your imperial majesty! it’s time to get up!” comes a now more familiar holler, before his chamber doors are being opened and a figure dressed neatly in dark fabrics and customary shoulder-chest cape things (he never really listened to what the tailor called them; tommy just knew them as the short cloaks).
they strut confidently in his room, drawing the heavy curtains back to allow light to flood his room, pricking at his eyes and forcing him to roll over to escape the strain.
“eryn, i am going to dismiss you,” he grumbles, sitting up in his bed, sheets still covering his lower half. he untucks the ruffled bits of hair that have been trapped against his back, beneath his night-shirt, and glares at his personal assistant.
“no, you imperial majesty, you won’t. someone has to get you dressed for this afternoon’s preparations!”
tommy grumbles again, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and rubbing blearily at the side of his head. his assistant’s words, no matter how well-natured they are intended to be, strike a sour chord with the crowned prince. he was up working into the very early hours of the morning, getting preparations for the upcoming peace-keeping ceremony, lovingly declared the annual summer ceremony.
tommy had, yet again, lost track of time and his personal assistant had found him half manic, half asleep attempting to figure out what combination and configuration of bouquets would be hung from the sconces in the grand hall.
with a great deal of nagging, shoving and compromises, eryn had got him into bed, under the agreement that tommy would be woken up by no later than ten.
by the look of the sun’s place high in the sky, it was well past that deadline.
“eryn,” he muttered, looking at his personal assistant, who now held a stiff air of panic poorly smothered by a casual facade.
“yes, your imperial majesty?” he asked, a decent impression of innocence.
“what time is it?” he pressed, voice still gravely from sleep. it worked in his aid, as the rumble made his personal assistant’s pleasant exterior crumble slightly.
“uh- if we freshen you up fast enough, maybe you’ll be in time to have lunch,” he tried, smiling sheepishly.
had this been tubbo, two months ago, he would have groaned and thrown a pillow, putting up a dramatic tantrum.
a cold fear gripped the heart hammering in his chest instead.
“eryn, i had a meeting with the foreign affairs minister at noon,” lunch stopped serving a couple hours past noon.
he had missed a meeting with the foreign affairs minister.
usually, tommy would issue a polite and sincere apology and reschedule, but right now, tommy didn’t have that time. he had preparations and paperwork to attend to the rest of the day.
“your imperial majesty,” his personal assistant began, a shade of concern filling his face. “the forgein affairs minister is avalable to speak with you all afternoon,”
tommy steeled his voice and put on his ‘bossy’ expression, eyes cold.
“and i have preparations to attend to,”
eryn was frowning.
“your schedule for the day was to meet with this minister, organise more of the preparations for the annual summer ceremony, and complete the paperwork needed to begin construction of the new trading harbour by the river up at eastmouth,”
tommy kept his composure, though he was impressed by eryn’s competence. tubbo hadn’t been nearly this well put-together.
“because of the stunt you pulled last night, that paperwork is finished, and you’ve already completed a great deal of work for the preparations.”
tommy allows himself to blink, thinking back, realising that- oh, yeah, he… he had done that.
“i informed the minister that you had some last-minute comeuppance, and he agreed to meet with you whenever you sought him; he’ll be in his designated office all day.”
tommy exhales, a relieved breath he didn’t know he was holding. eryn was, to put it bluntly, his saviour. this isn’t the first time he’s helped tommy wrangle his packed schedule, even in his short time of servitude.
tommy thinks grimly that he is losing his wits, what with wilbur’s addition to their life in the palace, and he isn’t filled with uncertainty at the statement.
the realisation settles heavily on his shoulders.
“thank you,” he manages to bite out, giving eryn an apologetic and relieved look. his personal assistant shoots him a signature grin, before heading off to raid tommy’s closet for appropriate apparel for the day’s schedule.
tommy’s mind is unwillingly dragged back to the thought of wilbur, a new problem to add to his growing roster. wilbur is, to be frank, a madman. he is a madman, a gambler, and above all that, he is a very proficient actor.
he has the high emperor wrapped neatly around his pinky-finger, alongside the castle maintenance that came with him. tommy has already lost a friend personal assistant and personal guard to the man’s conniving wiles.
he had been close to losing another of his close circle, his personal chef, charlie, but the man had been outside his chamber doors, about to knock and hand him a platter of food he could actually stomach during the later hours of the evening, and had overheard some of the vile things wilbur had said.
“careful what you say, theseus. you wouldn’t want your father to hear about your quick temper, would you?”
his tone was polite at a very shallow surface-level, but a venom dripped steadily beneath that.
“his imperial highness wouldn’t take the word of a commoner over that of his crowned prince,”
tommy snarled, for once allowing his own frustration to seep through his impartial facade.
wilbur’s face shone with a victorious smirk, smug and condescending.
“not his son?”
tommy did not have a reply.
tommy hadn’t known how to respond, because the high emperor truly was treating wilbur as more of a son than him. at the time, the remark had been a jab at how tommy did not refer to the high emperor as his father; nor he as his son.
now, reflecting, it feels as though wilbur was claiming himself as phil’s son, which resonated truer and truer with each passing day.
“anything else to report?”
tommy held his breath a moment, before asking.
“i was wondering, your imperial highness, if you could teach me the history of the grand hall? it may assist in my preparations of the entertainment for the annual summer ceremony,”
tommy is royalty; he doesn’t have to explain his requests to anyone, yet he still feels obligated to around the high emperor.
he does not look pleased with his suggestion, face indifferent and head not even twitching upwards to look at tommy.
“i have other duties, prince theseus. have a tutor teach you, or search for a record in the library.”
without hesitating the movement of his quill on parchment, the high emperor replied to him, and tommy swallowed his disappointment and shame before dismissing himself.
later that very same day, tommy found himself crumpled on the floor, hiding in the shadow of a pillar, listening to the high emperor explain all the old tales of the avians that used to roam the empire, and how they built the great hall with the help of their wings.
separated from his father by cruel stone walls and an imposter prince, tommy had been forced to evesdrop on all the history he wanted to know.
it wasn’t fair that wilbur was told the stories and he hadn’t, tommy was the prince, he was the avian, not wilbur!
… the darker part of tommy’s mind easily supplied once more that the high emperor didn’t even know he was an avian. and he probably never would, at this rate. before he knows it, the high emperor will probably be training wilbur, the commoner stray, how to be a prince, then the crown prince, before replacing him as his child altogether.
he’s already a third of the way there; wilbur is more phil’s son than tommy is, at this rate.
tommy doesn’t have time enough to brood over that can of worms, however, since he’s now properly dressed and his hair appropriately groomed. with eryn trailing him, and his new personal guard joining his entourage, tommy puts up his blank visage once more and goes in search of the minister.
the meeting goes much better than tommy anticipated; the minister was incredibly understanding, saying something about how this time of year is always a wreck, before the two of them ironed out the details of how the new harbour and river-trading system would work for the three kingdoms involved: the antarctic empire, kinoko kingdom and las nevadas.
of course, a simple document wouldn’t be enough - tommy is going to have to discuss the details in person with each representative involved.
from experience, tommy knows that his royal highness, karl, is kind and easy to work with, so he is hoping that his enthusiasm has rubbed off on whatever representative his leige quackity had sent in his steed for las nevadas. the two kingdoms, even before their current rulers came to power, have always been great friends and fierce allies.
after that, it was back to preparations. today, he’s starting to organise food for all their guests for the duration of their stay - specifically the banquets they’re hosting. of course, tommy needs to notify the kitchen of any dietary requirements of their guests so they can be served properly throughout, but it's the important meals that are his top priority, right now.
whilst some of his work is more hands-on, eryn is almost irksomely good at having himself and a squadron of other servants dutifully create whatever vision he had in his mind’s eye. it was a sharp change of pace from how tubbo would laugh and watch as he sampled different curtain-rope colours.
last year’s annual summer ceremony had a deep, rich emerald shade keeping the grandiose curtains opened, which matched nicely with the spring floral arrangements he had picked, full of purple phlox, pink appleblossoms and baby’s breath with cascading leaves of silver vine.
this year, tommy is partial to the pale aquamarine-blue. it seems wintery at first, but matched with his floral arrangement - a mock-setup created dutifully by eryn - it feels as warm as a cloudless mid-noon sky on a warm summers day.
his chosen flowers for this year are orange amaryllis, a light peachy-shade of astilbe that cascades from the sconces and decorative vases, a carefully-cultivated picking of warmish-yellow snapdragons and and small clustered of jack-frost perennials.
of course, tommy will be the one to create the first floral arrangement, so that the castle’s maintenance can use it as a reference when they create all thirteen of the remaining sconce-arrangements, as well as the twenty-six other vases/dishes/alternative displays for the grand hall.
the rest of his day is equally as productive; he has a fast dinner, thanks to charlie, before doing a final check-up on all the guest rooms that had prior been prepared for their attendees. it takes a good long while and a very ling checklist, but all rooms are accounted for, and only then does tommy allow himself back into his own chambers to rest.
it’s an easy feat, to fall asleep, tommy is exhausted, and has been fairly so for a while. nevertheless, he tucks away that observation as he curls up, bound wings protesting sharply against their bonds.
he does his best to ignore it, drifting off after a little too long of simply laying awake.
tommy is once again woken by eryn in a similar manner to all the other days, but he holds a deeper sense of urgency this time.
“come on, your imperial majesty, we don't know exactly when the guests will start arriving, we cant have you late,” like every other morning, he tugs the curtains open, and tommy gradually slips himself from his bed.
by the time he’s on his feet, eryn has his garnements for the day ready, and tommy slips them on. eryn helps him with the lace ruffles that sit at his chest, folding the collar of his shirt properly so that the fabric spills from beneath the blue gemstone that eryn clips at his front-band.
eryn, once more, helps him with his cufflinks and centres his cloak, so that the chain is in the middle of his chest and everything is even.
tommy can put his waist-jacket on without aid, now. he does.
eryn hands him some hair-pins, and tommy slides them into his locks so they don't abrupt his vision, then ties his hair as best he can in a low ponytail. with haste, he makes his way from his chambers to the front gates.
he assumes the morning will be a great deal of standing around and waiting, which he is not any more looking forward to than he was last year.
tommy is right - as per usual - and he has to wait until the sun is high in the sky, and he assumes it is nearing noon when the first guests begin to arrive. from the hues of red and orange, and the growing encrustment of mushrooms and flowers on the carriages that arrive, tommy concludes that the representatives from the kinoko kingdom have turned up.
as soon as the carriages come to a halt, their drivers are swinging to the floor in order to open their doors, and servants from the antarctic empire are surging forward to offer their assistance. tommy waits to allow all the nobles to exit their carriages, before stepping fourth, hands held politely behind his back, under his cloak.
he ignores the slight irritation his back feels in a form of stabbing pain when his hands brush gently over the bandages binding his wings.
when he reaches an appropriate distance, he smiles and twists his face into a picture-perfect host; his smile is polite and his face is blank aside from it. a perfect, diplomatic greeting from a perfect prince.
"welcome to the antarctic empire," he greets, as the palace servants swarm to collect the various items and luggage brought by the arriving guests. he allows his eyes to drift to the man who emerged in royal attire; specifically, a crown, and bowed respectfully.
their eyes linger for a moment too long on his form, before returning the gesture.
"might i guide you inside, prince george?"
the prince spouted something respectful and agreeing, following tommy as he guided him through the entrance halls of the empire's lavish castle.
smile a bit longer, tommy. just a bit longer.
the walk is shorter than that to his own chambers; the castle gates are nearer the north wing than they are the west. he escorts each member of prince george’s party to their rooms, and offers to send them an escort when the time for the first banquet arrives. the prince pleasantly accepts his offer, and tommy bids them goodbye for the time being.
he reaches the gates again, and begins another stretch of waiting. by the time the next guests arrive, his feet have long since started to ache beneath his own wright.
there is no rest for the wicked, though, so tommy just sticks through it.
the next carriage is decked-out in live plants and flora, most obviously cherry blossom, so tommy knows to expect the attendees from eldrian. tommy knows a few faces, mainly her regal majesty, niki and duchess poki from the providence of the rapids.
tommy remembers niki from her days as the princess, but that history really means nothing more than a ploy for his father to use as a political tidbit.
like he has done for their last arrivals, tommy brings himself fourth to them in the same manner once everyone has exited their carriages.
“greetings your royal empress, duchess,” he bows as the two look at him from the front of their assembled group.
“prince theseus, again an honour,” the royal empress greets, smiling softly at him. the two women curtsy, and tommy has to force a more genuine smile to his face. these are meant to be friends, he reminds himself.
“the honour is all mine. might i have the pleasure of seeing you and your colleagues to your chambers for the duration of your stays?” he proposes, turning and leading them through the gates once they agree.
the royal empress is much more chatty than the guests from kinoko kingdom, which he can only justify; they’ve known eachother a great deal longer. they are halfway through their walk to their chambers when niki asks a question that prods tommy right at his sore spot.
“where are your personal assistant and guard? you, tuboo and ranboo were always close when we were younger,” she remarks, and tommy has to try very hard not to let his steps falter, and to keep his chin held high.
“forgive me, your regal majesty, i have forgotten to introduce you to my new personal assistant and personal guard.” his voice is perfectly clipped, and he ignores the traces of shock that the empress’s face reveals.
“this is eryn, my new personal assistant, and purpled, my personal guard.” the two dip their heads respectfully when they are introduced, hastening their pace to show themselves to the empress momentarily when tommy gestures to them.
“pleasure,” she says off-handedly to the two, and tommy has to ignore the rudeness in order to listen to niki’s next question. “what happened to tubbo and ranboo?” she is asking questions out of turn and out of place.
tommy is crown prince. he should not be afraid to shy away from pointing out such violations of the etiquette code.
“the happenings within the serving quarters of a castle that is not your own is not of your business, your regal majesty. it would be wise of you to remember that.”
they stop walking, and the empress is fixing him with a confused, hurt look. her regal majesty niki always wears her heart on her sleeve; tommy is acutely aware of this flaw. this time, tommy does not propose his suggestion as a question.
“i’ll have someone sent to collect you come time for the banquet. in the meantime, please feel free to rest and prepare yourselves for the night. i’m sure you’ve had a long journey to reach us,” and with that, he dips his head respectfully, dismisses himself, and turns to leave.
“what’s happened to you, theseus?” the royal empress asks as he has his back faced to her. he barely manages to catch his halting, forcing himself back down the corridor and ignoring her words, content to simply pretend he never heard them.
tommy ignores the words in his own mind, as well. what has happened to him?
tommy has barely stuffed down his feelings from the last escort when he is thrust into the next; by the time he has arrived at the palace gates the next kingdom had already come in, and their luggage dismounted from their stede.
tommy has to swallow his nerves when he sees wilbur addressing the new guests.
as he approaches, he can hear wilbur’s words, which swiftly turn to focus on tommy as he arrives by his side.
“ah, prince theseus! at last, you join us. i’ve just greeted our guests from las nevadas, since you were absent,”
tommy knows he’s trying to drag him down, to get him to growl or to glare, but tommy keeps his face perfectly neural.
“this is the imperial prince, sapnap, and the grand duke of the outerbanks, sam.”
once wilbur has adressed both the men in noble attire, tommy respectfully bows and allows himself to speak, keeping his voice indifferent yet polite. he even tries - just a little bit - to sound remorseful.
“forgive me for being unable to greet you properly; please excuse my tardiness. i was escorting her regal majesty of eldrian to her chambers. might i have the honour of doing the same for you?”
he asks, raising his head to look them in the eyes once more. they both, in turn, dip their heads respectfully and accept his offer, summoning the servants with a flick of their wrists as they follow tommy through the main entrance to the castle’s main hallways, leading them to their designated rooms in the northern wing.
they make small-talk, then thank him for his kindness and agree to have someone send for them when the dinner starts, as all the other guests have.
tommy took special note of the soft - true - smile that graced sir sam’s face when he peered into his prepared room. it’s one of the things tommy had organised for the annual summer ceremony; he researched the land of each invited nobleman, prince or queen and tried to have the room they were allocated tailored to suit them better. using sir sam’s chambers as an example, the sconces were draped with purple hyacinths, a species indigenous to the outerbanks.
they part their ways, and tommy finds himself briskly walking back through the halls to the castle gates one more.
tommy finished greeting all the guests by the time the sun was beginning to set, which was perfect, as it allowed him time enough to sit down and rest his feet, as well as freshen up once more.
eryn helped him re-do his hair, choosing some more decorative hair-pins, with glass flora on their ends, and tommy chose his pale blue waist-jacket, and dropped the cloak entirely for one that matched eryn’s, but in a deeper shade of the same blue.
eryn was permitted to attend tonight’s festivities, as was purpled, so he helped the two of them in turn look more presentable as well.
come time for the banquet, tommy sent eryn to fetch some other servants to call for their guests, allowing his own personal assistant to take his place at the side of the grand hall, with the high emperor’s personal assistant, michael, as well as a dozen or so other servers.
he and the emperor stood side-to side infront of the shorter-length wall; the one that was almost entirely a stained-glass window. previously, it had been of an old avian lord, but his father had it re-commissioned to be of his wife, the late empress, after her passing.
it was only after it was finished did the annual sumer ceremony’s location get shifted to the great hall.
the long dining table was in the centre of the hall, ample space on all ends for mingling amongst the attendees. as their guests began to trickle into the hall, chatter broke out among them, and tommy had to hold his position beside his father until the grandiose door was shut, signifying the arrival of all the guests.
the high emperor summoned the room’s attention, announcing the official commencing of the annual summer ceremony, before dismissing their attention and gliding down the steps, mingling himself among the crowd.
tommy gave eryn a look from the side of the hall, before steeling his resolve and preparing for an evening of fake-fronts and false cheer.
tommy, was, again, correct with that vein. he’s currently trying to memorise the names of all the noblemen and ladies he’s spoken to - in addition to the ones he already knows. there was lords corpse and sykkuno from kinoko kingdom, as well as duchess leslie from the providence of the tierstreets, on eldrian’s western border. he is now also acquainted with the personal guard for all their royal attendees; he always makes purpose to memorise them lest an issue with their royal arises.
now, he is talking with duke schlatt and his imperial majesty of las nevadas, sapnap. the duke is saying something about the harbour, and sapnap seems engrossed in the possibility of establishing a new trade route to las nevadas.
“i would gladly help! i need to propose the idea to the council, first, before we can start plotting proper routes and such. prince theseus?” tommy smiles when sir schlatt calls his name. “is it a possibility that you suggest this in your next meeting with the council?” tommy pauses to think a moment.
he’ll have to convince the foreign trades minister, first, but considering his ease at accepting the new river-route, he doesn't think it will be much of a challenge. “i’ll discuss the matter with our foreign trades minister, though i doubt he’ll have any qualms. i’ll make sure to address it in my next gathering with the council,” he assures, offering pleasantries when his lordship sapnap thanks him.
tommy doesn't have time to linger on the conversation much longer, nor drift to a new one, because the high emperor has taken his seat, which earns that everyone starts to follow to the table. tommy finds himself dismissing himself from the duke and the imperial prince of las nevadas, instead bringing himself to the seat at his father’s side, who is sat at the head of the table.
tommy’s chair is smaller, but tommy is smaller than his father, so it makes sense. that doesn't mean the chair is any nicer for his binded wings, though. people start new conversations with the people beside them, now in their designated seats.
the kings, queens and other royal representatives sit at the head of the table; closer to the high emperor and himself. then, the dukes and duchesses - the great majority of the gathered attendees - and, near the opposite end from the high emperor, are the knights and personal guard gathered. its segregation, sure, but it was one of the few things out of tommy’s power to change.
tommy is sat nearest the sovereign king of the primelands, eret, who is opposite the crown prince of kinoko, george. her regal majesty niki is also within conversing distance, as is his lordship, sapnap, though beyond that he’s sure to struggle conversing politely.
unless directly addressed, tommy allows his father to handle most of the talking. last year, when tommy had attempted to start things himself, his father had been thoroughly unimpressed, and doubled his paperwork for the next two weeks.
at some point, tommy waved his hand to summon the food for the banquet, but the night is soon lost to him as the hours draw into the early times of the morning, and when he is at last allowed to return to his chambers, eryn can barely get him into his night-top and trousers before he collapses into his bed and falls asleep.
he, of course, gives one final reminder to eryn for him to wake him up at the usual time the following day, before letting his head fall to his pillow, and drifting promptly to sleep.
the second day of celebrations is all an action-packed blur, filled with talks of truce, alliance and trade proposal, and excitement for the proper amendment ceremony of the peace treaty. tommy is worried for the official ceremony, since it’s him in charge of it this year.
strictly speaking, it falls under forgeign affairs, which he is in charge of, and the high emperor hasn't approached him with qualms as to otherwise, so tommy takes initiative and proceeds with the day under the expectation that he will be taking charge.
time for the ceremony is too swiftly upon him, and he finds himself standing in the secretary of the royal treasury’s office, waiting for the other representatives to arrive. the office is not the most grand location they have to offer, he will admit, but it has been a tradition of a hundred years; it is where their ancestors first met when they crafted the original document.
before long, he is joined by prince george, king eret, empress niki and sir sapnap. as per tradition, they have all discussed among their dukes, councils and lords what amendments they believe must be made to the treaty, and have the suggestions in their own documentations to assess together.
only one representative from each of the empires on the continent is allowed.
the meeting hasnt yet begun, for the sun is still in the sky, and it must commence when it starts to dip below the horizon, and yet tommy is already faced with an issue.
a large, unimpressed issue under the name of sir sapnap.
“with the greatest respect, prince theseus, isn't your father meant to be the representative of the antarctic empire? you are - young,” tommy levels the man with a steady glare, not hostile yet not kind either.
“you do not need to worry about how my age might conflict with my qualifications, sir sapnap. the amendments of the treaty fall under foreign affairs, and dealings of such nature are under my control, as they have been the past eight months.” he assures, and all the representatives seem to digest his words. “i hope you all find i am perfectly capable to handle this.”
the address is to all in the room, before he turns to the window, watching as the sun begins to shy away behind the distant line of the horizon. “the sun is setting. we shall begin the evening’s proceedings now.” he announced, sitting down in his seat at the circular table. each of the representatives followed suit, bringing out their documents of suggested amendments.
tommy has to swallow his nervousness, attempting to ban his anxiety to a far corner of his mind. he is not as collected as he appears, and sir sapnap’s remark had dug up his attempts to bury his fear of doing something wrong.
he is prince theseus, heir to the throne of the antarctic empire. he is the crown prince. he can do this.
he brings forth his own document, and the representatives begin to discuss. their demeanours are much more laid-back, though still certainly proper. it appears like that, among just them, without the threat of a nobleman or woman to gossip about their relaxation.
tommy doesn't grant himself that luxury. he doesn't think anything other than the calculated front of prince theseus will deliver satisfyingly to everyone’s expectations.
the night is long and gruelling, the other representatives helping themselves to the vintage wine he’d selected for the occasion.
tommy didn't have anything to drink; he isn't old enough to consume alcohol, yet.
once they finished discourse on the amendments, tommy reached into the chest containing the original scroll, and they all payed their respects and thanks to those who came before them. as tradition then states, he put the scroll away after it had been observed, and tommy brought out the parchment scroll for their rewrite of this year’s amendments.
tommy isn't looking forward to this. as host, it is up to him to scribe everything they’ve just agreed upon.
with a concealed sigh, tommy begins with the date, writing swiftly and neatly, in proper cursive. he could feel the eyes of the other representatives watching his hand, and ignored everything else- judgments be damned, he hasn't made a spelling mistake, so he’ll be fine.
it is a lengthy process to write everything out, and tommy’s wrist and fingers ache desperately from his grip on the quill and the repetitive re-dipping in ink. by the time he is done, he scarcely has the ability to sign off the document, hiding his relief when he passes the quill to the nearest representative so that they can add their signatures to the document as well.
“this has been a fruitful session,” king eret states, once the scroll is rolled back up and tied with a lapiz ribbon, safely stored in its own box for tommy to pass off to a scribe to document, so the information can be spread among the councils of all the empires.
tommy feels horrible for the poor scribe who has to procure five copies of what he’s just done.
“thank you, prince theseus, for leading us through it. i struggle to recall a time this ceremony has settled so many issues,” the older king praises, and tommy has to be very forceful with how he squashes his emotion, the way he wants to preen at the affirmation, at last, of his hard work.
instead, he offers a thin smile. “the pleasure is all mine, king eret. i hope to have put any unease you’ve felt at my qualification to rest,” he replies, before realising what he’d just said and wanting to slap himself. these are the rulers or other empires, not wilbur.
he cant be petty.
instead of berating him, however, sir sapnap snorts, and reassures him, “dont worry, prince theseus, i’ll be sure to pass the word. qua- his liege quackity is sure to want to meet your acquaintance, after he sees the work you’ve done here tonight.” before tommy can offer any pleasantries to the man, prince george - who has been relatively quiet since he’d settled on the adjustments he wanted to make to the treaty - offers up his own thought.
“as will his royal highness karl. your work is spectacular, prince theseus. don’t forget it.”
it feels like, for a moment, they know he is a child, that he is barely seventeen. like they know the affirmations are what he so desperately needs, and has yet been denied for the past five years that he has been crown prince.
tommy offers them nothing more than a grateful incline of his head, before they all dismiss themselves from the office, and the guests are led to their chambers by in-wait servants and personal guards.
after - and only after they have left, does tommy turn to his own personal assistant and guard, passing the box containing the scroll to eryn.
“deliver that to the east wing, a servant called clara should be there to take it from you.”
eryn nods, grasping the box in his hands before pausing, offering an anxious smile and asking: “all went well, your imperial majesty?”
normally, in the halls of the castle, he would reprimand a personal assistant for talking without a prior direct address. but, eryn is the closest thing he has to a friend right now, and his spirits were high.
“perfectly.”
when tommy smiles, it is genuine. eryn seems pleased by this, before he excuses himself and makes his way to the east wing. tommy is left with purpled, who silently escorts him to his own chambers, but he can tell by his demeanour and the comfortable silence that purpled was also happy with the good news tommy had brought.
bidding him goodnight at his door, purpled shuts the door behind tommy, and he is free to change himself of the garnements he’s in and dress in his night-time apparel once more, content to fall asleep again.
despite last night’s success, when tommy is woken, it is to a sinking feeling in his gut and an ever-rising paranoia, not eryn.
when his personal assistant does knock and enter, tommy is already fully dressed with his hair dutifully groomed. for the day, tommy has selected red as his colour. a white button-down with ruffled sleeves, a deep, crimson red waist-coat and grey slacks.
eryn is stumped momentarily, and when he asks about his promptness, tommy does not respond, instead brushing past him and already heading downstairs, arriving to breakfast for the first time in an age.
charlie is slightly shocked to see him, but serves him the prepared food nonetheless. it is a small portion, with some ripe cantaloupe and a petite assortment of fresh berries, as well as exactly two strips of fried bacon.
he takes his time, but tommy eats the meal before him, not once engaging his father in conversation. that right is reserved for wilbur, who perches beside him, and general technoblade- one of his father’s closest friends and most trusted advisor.
tommy used to be fond of technoblade as a child, but he was away fighting more often than not, and in recent years, technoblade has treated him with disdain in place of respect since the empress died.
part of tommy thinks technoblade blames him for her death, and another thinks he wanted the title of crown prince and heir for himself.
tommy is ready to get up and leave; he’s turned his head to thank charlie so he can take his plate, when-
“oh, prince theseus! before you go, sir fundy said it was alright if i took his invite to the banquet last night, as well as tonight’s.”
tommy’s brain stopped for a moment. he was struggling to digest the word vomit just spat at him so his jaw opens before he can regulate the words, and the thing running rings around his brain gets fired out:
“what.”
wilbur’s smile widens, and tommy is the only person who seems to realise it is backed by malice and ill-will.
“sir fundy did not attend the banquet last night, so i took his place, as with tonight. i also promised tubbo and ranboo they could come, so… i- im sorry, that might not work, i’ll just tell them i’m-”
for the first time that day, tommy is listening to what the high emperor has to say.
“don't apologise, wilbur. theseus should be apologising for his blatant disrespect. tubbo and ranboo can attend, they can take the invitation-slots handed to theseus's new personal assistant and guard.”
any reply tommy has dies on his tongue. his father, the high emperor, was letting him get walked over like this? the blatant disrespect phil is showing him is worthy of a challenge - not a duel, but a challenge for the mantle of emperor.
tommy leaves without a word, rage simmering.
his father had taken the word of a commoner with no title and no family over that of his son, the crown prince.
the day is bleary from there.
like all times tommy has felt like this; cast aside, forgotten, disrespected, he’s gone to the same place- the castle observatory.
granted, tommy usually escapes to here at night, but now, he doesn't have that luxury. still, being in a place so familiar brings a tattered sense of comfort to his mind.
the glass-domed observatory doubles as a library, where books filled with tales of ancient avians were stowed away, out of public grasp.
the overgrown vines and flora that cascaded from the shelves, old statue, skirting board- that was all him, cultivated by his own hand.
here, tommy could be amongst the flowers and gaze upon the stars from the warmth of his home.
home. tommy doesn't know if he can call the palace home anymore; it hasn't felt like his home since he become crown price, since his mother died.
he’s sat on the bench, pressed up against the curved glass that makes up this wall and the ceiling, when he’s made aware of someone else’s presence.
he turns, expecting to see eryn, but instead he finds his personal assistant with the crown prince of kinoko kingdom, prince george.
tommy wipes the melancholy from his face and lets a cold indifference take it’s place. the first lesson phil taught him was to never show weakness, never present yourself as something other than perfect, that noblemen might pick apart like dogs.
“your imperial majesty, thank goodness-” eryn had panted, surging forth to be infront of him, eyes scanning him for any potential injury.
“you disappeared for hours, prince theseus, i- i got really worried,” he admits, blushing slightly as he shoots the prince an embarrassed look. prince george waves him off, a look tommy can’t quite perceive on his face.
“no need to worry, eryn. it’s normal for personal assistants to worry about their masters, it isn't unusual for friendships to form between them.” he dismisses, walking a few paces closer.
tommy is fine with having eryn in this space, something makes the place seem just a little bit warmer, with him there, but prince george’s presence feels more like an intrusion.
the words don't form on his tongue to request his presence be removed.
none do.
“your imperial majesty, are-”
“just-” tommy interrupts eryn, who stops talking respectfully. tommy exhales, “just theseus is fine, eryn. drop the formalities.” tommy, quite honestly, doesn't really care that prince george is witness to this- from what he’s heard, the man is a sleepy one when it comes to gossip, nothing of interest ever comes from him or really sticks with him, either. from the past two days, tommy is inclined to believe it.
eryn, though, looks a bit choked, but takes his words with good grace and offers him a thankful smile, that’s soft around the edges in a way that tommy doesn't quite recognise anymore. his expression quickly changes to confusion, though, and he parts his jaw to talk again.
“but, his imperial highness, he wouldn't like that i-”
a thin string within tommy’s heart snaps, and he cuts his personal assistant off again, much harsher this time.
“his imperial highness,” he sneers, uncaring of how rude and imprudent of him it is, “doesn't like me, so it seems. i’m quite sure your insubordination wont matter to him.”
eryn looks strongly taken aback by his words, and doesn't say anything. he looks to be processing his small outburst, when tommy’s train of sorrow is brought to a screaming halt when prince george talks once more.
“so the heartless prince of ice does have emotions,” it feels more like an observation, not a jab; at it doesn't feel like what wilbur’s observations are, tommy can't detect a malice in his words. if anything, they’re relieved.
“dont take that the wrong way, prince theseus. i and the other guests from kinoko were worried your father beat the feelings from your soul.”
tommy wants to prickle, an instinctual ‘he never hit me’ lying on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't utter the words.
tommy tries to be many things. a liar is not one of them.
he doesn't know how to respond to the other crown prince’s words.
“theseus,” eryn looks as though he is trialing the word, pausing to think on it, before he continues to talk, “the banquet is starting soon. it’s best we arrive early.”
the words leave a bitter pang of resentment in his chest.
“i,” he amends his personal assistant. eryn looks conflicted, if not a little hurt.
“what?”
something in tommy breaks and bawls, crawling to wipe the hurt look from eryn’s face.
the best tommy can allow himself is to explain.
“wilbur is taking sir funny's place at the banquet tonight, as he did yesterday. he insisted tubbo and ranboo be brought, so my father said they were to take your’s and purpled’s invitation slots.”
eryn looked crushed for a moment, before an anger sparks in his eyes.
“why would he let a bloke like wilbur come? let alone have the crown prince’s personal guard and assistant replaced,” this would usually be a time where tommy chastised eryn on his vernacular, but he doesn't have the heart to do it now.
especially since eryn is insulting wilbur; it makes a part of him curl with glee that eryn seems to hate the stray as much as he does.
“don't know, don't know if i care anymore,” he dismisses in an improper fashion.
prince george doesn't seem to care that they’re being improper, and eryn isn't going to tell anyone. he’ll simply explain to purpled the circumstances and they’ll brood about it in silence, like tommy always does.
tommy brings himself to his feet, and calms his mind, he forces his emotion back and pulls together his perfect-host-face, before striding to the door of the observatory, and inviting prince george to join him on the way to the third banquet.
he looks a little upset now that tommy’s facade is back on, and his walls are up. something within tommy knows the distaste isn't directed at him, but more so for him.
in silence, they walk to the banquet, and are among the first to arrive. that isn't to say people don't start to pile in within quick succession of the last; the room is soon packed and tommy finds himself separated from the prince he had entered with. this is a political banquet, though, despite the lowered tensions after the treaty amending, so tommy still has to show face.
not for his father, but for the empire itself.
floating around from noble to noble, tommy is acutely aware of the peculiar looks they’re giving him. duke schlatt had narrowed his eyes and spoke slowly; duchess poki had looked startled and concerned when she looked at him in the face.
it’s probably deserved, though. whilst tommy is keeping up the polite front, it is incredibly clear that its just that: a front. tommy has played the part of the perfect, heartless prince for years. this is the first time anyone from outside the castle - hell, even most people in the castle - have seen an inkling of his true feelings.
he’s having a conversation with some of the knights, the personal guard for crown prince of kinoko kingdom, george, duchess of the rapids, poki and the sovereign king of the primelands, eret.
“so, prince theseus, where is your knight?” rae, her ladyship poki’s guard asks. her tone is curious, and tommy can't actually fault any malicious intent. the question still catches him unaware, though, an he stumbles.
“m- my knight?” tommy glances around the bustling hall, droves of noblemen and women conversing amicably. it is the third day, after all, people are here for friendships and allies, not only trade-deals and peace treaties.
from where he is stood, he can see the high emperor practically glowing, a smile lighting his face as he talks to some noblemen from eldrian, alongside the royal empress herself.
at his side, preening in the attention and affection being showered onto him, is wilbur.
the look on his father’s face is one tommy is known to, though not as familiar as it once was: paternal adoration. pride.
“we- we’d love to meet them, is all,” the knight rushes to clarify, relapsing in the potential implications of her question. punz snorts at her, amused. tommy allows his eyes that he know will be distant and murky to land on her again, before he slowly asks,
“which one?”
it is dream who speaks next, inquisitive if not nosy. “ranboo, correct? last year, you two were almost inseparable, as for the year before that,” he comments, swirling the contents of his cup; the white wine tommy had selected for tonight’s occasion.
him. not his father. yet he is out and about, gallivanting around with his false, stray-son replacement and absorbing the praises and acknowledgements meant for me.
“no, not as of late. time, it seems, is no testament for one’s loyalty. a young knight, purpled, is my personal guard.” he replies, glaring at wilbur as he says the words, before turning back to the knights for the latter half of his explanation.
“might we- uh, meet him?” the female knight asks, voice now strained. she is no idiot - none of them are - and can sense that there is a tension in this topic. dropping the code of formality entirely, tommy grimaces in a sorry attempt of a smile, and talks with a heavily distasteful tone.
“unfortunately, no. the invitation for both my personal assistant and guard had to be rescinded in order that wilbur’s might make attendance,”
the knights looks bewildered at that, and punz is the first to grapple his words. “you mean you are unguarded and unserved right now?” tommy nods, folding his arms in a rather improper manner. tommy, though, is losing his heart to care about the formalities he’s fronted for the past years.
“indeed, and i would have been so since yesterday had i attended that banquet, since wilbur considered himself important enough to request his presence in the castle be known to all the kingdoms by attending.” tommy knows he isn't meant to talk badly of someone, but wilbur’s been doing it since the guests got here, so tommy sees no foul in returning the favour. “it’s why you don't see sir fundy here tonight, or last. wilbur saw him as a good candidate for replacement.” after me.
the knights seem startled by his words; no one is used to malicious words and direct disrespect like this in the courts, no less from royalty, and especially from a crown prince like tommy.
before he can much elaborate, though, people begin to drift towards the dining table laid out for them, and they start to sit at their designated seats, stopping their chatting with their current conversation partners and starting fresh with those now next to them.
tommy makes his way over to his seat, at the side of the high emperor, only to find a mop of brown hair already in his place.
“wilbur,” he finds himself biting, once again restricting emotion from his tone, “you appear to be in the wrong place. this is my seat; yours is over there, where sir fundy was meant to be,” he states, expecting the man to seeth silently at him, before begrudgingly getting up and moving himself to his chair.
wilbur is a bag full of surprises, though, and does not do that.
“oh, im so sorry, prince theseus- i didn't know! it's just, well my invitation was so late, see - no fault of yours, i am sure, so i didn't know where to sit. his imperial highness invited me to sit beside him,” his voice is apologetic, but a bit too enthused, tommy knows, to be truly genuine. tommy ignores the cold wash of dread and rage that fills him, face twitching as he gives a polite, yet incredibly strained smile, and excuses himself.
“no worries, wilbur. i can remove myself now. sincerest apologies, your imperial highness,” the people around them have gone quiet, no doubts listening in to wilbur’s words, perfectly polite but poised to belittle tommy once more, as they watch as tommy makes his way to the other side of the table, nearer the knights and dukes; the lesser of the people at the table.
they watch, shocked, as he sits in the place formerly reserved for sir fundy, eyes wide as he takes the walk of shame. never has a prince - a crown prince, at that - been made to sit amongst the lesser of the nobles present in any celebration or gathering.
the high emperor, though, seems entirely unbothered as tommy stiffly takes his seat beside duchess poki and duke schlatt. they both look at him from either side, blatant looks of shock, but he pays them no mind, instead raising his arm and waving his hand in a ‘come hither’ motion.
he may have been shamefully sent to the other side of the table, but he was still the one running the majority of the ceremony’s events, so the chefs and servicemen answered to him.
at his command, the service arrives, and platters of food crafted with luxury goods to make exquisite dishes are delivered. each person at the table has been allocated a server, and they bring their dish accordingly. tommy waits patiently for his, even though the other servers have all placed the other dishes in a neat semblance of semi-synchronism.
looking over his shoulder, he sees a rather confused serving-boy, who appears not to recognise him as the man he’s meant to be serving. tommy inclines his head to the other side of the table, where wilbur sits, and the server spots him, and starts to make his way over.
watching wilbur once more, he can see charlie - his server - approach the seat, and lean over with a smile to present the dish to should-be-tommy. wilbur smiles, glad to accept it, a malice in the formation of his face, but as charlie is leaning over to lower the dish, he properly sees wilbur in the chair, and stops.
after a moment of pause, he stands back up, taking the plate with him, and briskly just walks away. the attendees watch as he walks over to where he’s spotted tommy, and presents the dish to him instead with a warm yet upset smile. tommy offers one back, and thanks the man, as he strides out of the hall without so much as a glance back.
the server who had originally came to tommy hurried to present wilbur his dish, and hurried equally as fast to remove himself from the room.
in front of tommy is a simple dish, in comparison to all the others; his favourite. a butter-and-garlic-salt basted steak, a fried egg and asparagus. he can recognise it by merely the way charlie has presented it, let alone smell the familiar tang of garlic-salt.
looking up to the high emperor, mainly for the gesture to begin the meal, tommy finds him silently fuming. it’s a split second only, though, before he plasters a smile on his face, and gives the permission to begin.
he cannot be seen showing favour to a new face in the court over his son; wilbur doesn't even have a title, and yet he’s found himself among queens and princes alike.
tommy looks at his dish, and doesn't feel all that hungry anymore, despite skipping lunch.
still, tommy knows how good charlie’s cooking is, and once he takes that first bite, he can feel some of his hunger returning.
none of the nobles or knights around him say a word, and the whole table is in fit of quiet; hardly anyone is talking.
tommy can feel several eyes resting on him as he eats alongside everyone else.
“your imperial majesty,” tommy knows his title, and as such swiftly raises his head to look for the person addressing him. it is duchess poki, from his side. her expression is blatantly scandalised, eyes flickering from the high emperor to him. “are - i don't mean to intrude, but are you simply going to allow him to disrespect you like that?”
tommy doesn't put his utensils down, staring at his plate again. his response is quiet, in hopes not the entire table can hear.
“he is my father, there is nothing i can do to change tonight’s course.”
clearly he has not spoken quietly enough.
“prince theseus, disrespect of this magnitude is permission enough for a duel, you do know, right?” tommy sends sir dream a strained look, not lifting his head. all attention feels to be on him, and with anymore pushing, he might snap.
“i’d prefer to settle these matters privately, i’m sure this is nothing that can’t be solved between us,” he grits out, returning to cutting his steak. lifting his chin, he addresses the full table as he talks this time, authority seeping into his voice. “i think we’d all prefer the subject be dropped,” and just like that, chatter breaks out, and tommy can drown his thoughts out with the overlapping sounds of their voices.
it feels as though it takes him forever to eat his meal, everyone seemingly finished eons before him. they all still sit and talk, though, the nature of conversation much lighter than the banquet’s rickety start.
he’s finished his food now, so all he can do is keep his head down and listen to people talk, in hopes to ignore the growing pit that is his thoughts. it shouldn't be hard, but…
“can't believe he just took that..”
“something about them isn't right…”
“who even is this wilbur..?”
tommy catches strands and echoes of the gossip, and can occasionally feel eyes burn into his form.
“it’s preposterous,”
“someone ought to teach the high emperor some manners,”
“prince theseus deserves an apology, at least…”
his death-grip on the steak knife in his hand strengthens, seemingly forgetting to put the utensil down. each comment strikes a chord with tommy, and the longer he listens, the more things he wants to hear he does.
“it’s viciously unfair to the crown prince…”
“- worrying how much he’s doing, he’s just turned seventeen,”
“if i were him, i’d have challenged him right then and there,”
tommy has lived this life long enough to know he hates it. he’s also lived long enough to know it has to be his life, because so much of the empire already depends on his work. he’s the prince, he owes his life to the people-
that’s something phil taught him, very early. all royals owe their lives in service to their people.
everything his father taught him feels like ash in his throat, now. it all feels like lies.
if tommy acts out, the high emperor is in a foul mood enough to simply replace him, banish him from the antarctic empire.
that trail of thought trickles into another, though, one that leaves his body rigid.
if his father banishes him, then he will have to take up tommy’s duties. tommy’s work has always been that of his mother’s; duties the high emperor has never fulfilled, in addition to a great chunk of other work his father decided to dump on him.
if tommy were to be exiled, his father would crumple under the weight of responsibility, too stuck-up to accept help until, no doubt, the people rose up.
the people love schlatt, he will probably be phil’s replacement, and schlatt is a smart and well-meaning man- he would run the empire well.
with that image in mind, for the first time, it feels, tommy lets his body relax, ignoring the pain of his bound wings as he leans back against his chair, crosses his legs, and rests an elbow on his armrest, propping his head against the raised arm.
“charlie,” he calls, voice bored. his chef appears infront of him swiftly, face twisted in concern and a vaguely-covered fear.
“get me a glass of red, would you? none of that new chianti either, a nice vintage margaux will do,” charlie fixes him with a shocked, wide-eyed look, as do the people within earshot. by now, many have noticed his change in posture, and are looking at him with a mix of confusion and fear: what is the prince of ice up to now?
“your imperial majesty, i-”
“i don't care about good conscience or concerns, charlie. make it happen. oh, and bring me the whole bottle, too.” at his snappish interruption, charlie levels him with a concerned look once more, but tommy shuts it down by returning his look with an unwavering one of his own, and before too long, charlie was sighing, and leaving to fetch his requests.
not too many eyes were focused on him, but of those that were, the most poignant were those of duke schlatt.
swinging his head lazily, he arches an unimpressed brow at the duke. the look on his face is slightly dark, a cautious warning. tommy knows his behaviour is inexcusable and poor, and yet no one was raising a finger just yet.
“kid,” he warned, attempting an old nickname of his. tommy’s posture nor his expression changed, and he found himself locked in a staring competition with the duke until charlie returned, golden platter holding an unopened bottle of wine and a glass.
“your requests,” he said as he placed both the items infront of tommy.
with the bottle of red before him, he grins once more, looking up to his chef and thanking him, “most kind of you charlie, that will be all.” his chef lingers a moment longer, but leaves after his dismissal. by now, people have noticed him if they hadn't before, and are now watching in perplexion as he pops the bottle open and pours himself a large glass.
the glass charlie gave him was meant for champagne, not wine, so it is considerably a smaller portion than he’d have liked, but nonetheless, he swirls the wine around in his glass and takes a sip.
tommy hasn't had wine before. he knows enough from books and gossiped word to know what's good and what isn't, but tommy can soundly say that what he’d just tasted was delightful.
he can see the appeal of alcoholism, now, though the idea doesn't tempt him.
it is silent as tommy drinks the wine, long enough so that he is pouring himself a second by the time someone talks.
“prince theseus,” his eyes raise from the glass, though he doesn't halt in taking his next sip of the drink. “what do you think you are doing?” the emperor hisses, blatant fury on his features.
tommy pauses, before replying as though the most obvious thing in the world, “drinking?”
and the noblemen liked that, a chorus of gasps and choked laughter breaks out, making him smile. the high emperor fumes.
“do you not think,” he begins, halting to gather some sense of composure, “that our guests deserve a little more respect from you?”
tommy pauses, bringing the glass from his lips and swirling its contents, tilting his head as he replies snidely, “do i not deserve respect from you?”
all other sound ceases. everyone seems to be holding in a collective breath.
“even if not, isn't it still treason to lie to royalty, royalty yourself or not?” he proposes. he can see the genuine confusion flit across the high emperor’s face, which hurts tommy more than he cares to admit,
“i have not lied,” the high emperor begins, but tommy cuts him off.
“two weeks ago i requested that you explain to me the history of this great hall, in order that i make arrangements for entertainment more suitable for the night,” he pauses, swallowing emotion and soldiering on, “i also wanted to spend time with you,” the jab lands as he had expected, and the people’s faces soften with pity. he takes another sip of his wine in the silence. “you said no, that you were busy, and that i should simply get a tutor or read about it myself.”
he pauses again to swallow another sip of wine, bile building up with the swelling emotion. “that night you were bellowing the tales of old to wilbur in this great hall. i had to listen from outside, by the door.”
the confession leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and a more bitter air among the guests.
“so, do i not deserve your respect? is that it?” he proposes again, more conviction held in his voice this time.
“with your continus displays of insubordination and childish stupidity? i’d firmly say not. do not forget who you are talking to, prince theseus,” the high emperor warns, darkness churning in his voice. his father looks tense, as though ready to spring at any moment.
tommy looks as though he hasn't a care in the world.
“i think you’ll find, your imperial highness,” someone interjects, and tommy turns his slightly shocked expression to the sovereign king of the primelands as he continues to speak, “that you must also remember who you are talking to.”
“last i remember,” crown prince george adds, “that son of yours runs more of your empire than you do,”
“whilst you’re off parading around a commoner stray,” another voice pipes, and the attention turns to his imperial majesty of las nevadas, “prince theseus has been pushing your empire to longer peace and prosperity than your reign has ever seen,”
the high emperor looks as though he’s about to spit fire.
“you might all do well to remember who exactly it is i am,” he snarls, fists clenching, knuckles white.
“we are your equals here, phil,” comes a quiet voice, one that shocks the high emperor from his rage into a stunned silence for a few moments. “you seem to have forgotten that.”
her regal majesty niki’s induced quiet does not last long, before the high emperor turns his attention back to tommy.
“prince theseus,” he starts, voice low and rumbling with rage, “you’ll find yourself dismissed of your duties, title and place within the castle come the morning. if you are found within the castle’s premises, you will be removed. by force.”
the silence that follows is shocked, as outrage begins to spark amongst the gathered nobles, but tommy stands with a smile before they can say anything.
“of course, phil, can i call you phil?” with his glass now empty, he forgoes it entirely and picks up the bottle in his free hand, taking a quick swig before continuing. “who am i kidding, of course i can. thank you, phil. you won't find a hair of me within these walls again,” he announces, his steak knife still in hand. he slips it under his shirt to tear the bandages binding his wings.
he can feel the binding unfurl, and he’s removed it all and left his wings taught against his back, confined now by his shirt as he removes his waist-coat and discards it on his chair.
“or, well, i suppose my feathers, either,” he adds, dropping the knife to the floor and taking another sip of wine. with a great stretch of his muscles, the feathered appendages tear through the back of his shirt, drawing shocked gasps upon their reveal.
the limbs, as tattered as they may seem, are still a striking shade of tawny brown, red feathers hidden in and among the brown plumage.
they aren't meant to be red, they’re just bloodied.
knowing he has caused torment and strife, he turns and leaves, folding his wings behind him as best he can manage. strides long and purposeful, he opened the grand doors and leaves, not even hesitating as he passes the several guards and personal assistants stationed outside.
there’s a clambering, before the door is opened after him, but he’s marching his way down the corridor, having another drink from the bottle of red. purpled and eryn rushing to match his stride with questions spilling from their lips.
“your imperial majesty, what- “
“prince theseus, where did-“
“tommy!”
the bellow cuts him short, and he turns around and glares at the culprit, glowering. he brings the bottle away from his lips.
tubbo.
“tommy, what-,”
“what do you,” he snaps, taking a step forward, “think you are doing?” he snarls, jabbing an accusatory finger at the servant.
“i am trying to ask you what’s wrong!” he fires right back, exasperated.
“what’s wrong or what’s wrong with me?” he growls, accusatory.
“you-“
“don’t you forget,” he interrupts, using his pointer finger to gesture at his former personal assistant, being cautious of the half-empty bottle in his hand. “that tonight, i am still crown prince of the antarctic empire. you are my subordinate. you may not serve me, but i can have you punished. wilbur is a lowlife and a commoner, and he bows to me, don’t you forget it.”
tubbo’s eyes spark with fury at his new master’s mention.
“what is your problem with wilbur? he’s harmless! yet you slander and sneer down at him because he isn’t a nobleman? what sort of sick, privileged prick are you?” any other day, tommy would have tubbo punished for his foul behaviour. considering what he’d just done, though, tommy isn’t really in a place to be dishing out punishment.
“harmless? he has taken everything from me!” tommy rebuked, anger surging in his words. tubbo looked scandalised.
“what do you mean taken everything from you? you have it all! wilbur had nothing!” tubbo spat back, shoving his shoulder. tommy had to suppress a flinch, his wings flaring out behind him with aggravation.
“and now he as a lavish life, the adoration of my father, and look at me now!” tommy isn’t worried about being overheard- he can hear dissonant arguing and clashing voices from within the hall, even with the doors nearly fully shut.
they don’t sound like they’ll stop arguing in the great hall anytime soon.
“that’s your own damn fault!” tubbo roared, staring coldly at him. tommy’s heart flared as he absolutely screams in response.
“i have served this empire!” he has to take in a raggedy, harsh breath to muster the air needed to yell again. tubbo is silent, and his grip on the bottle is near enough to break it. “i have done everything that man has asked and more with no complaint.” his voice drops to a growl, not backing down from tubbo’s defiant stare.
“doesn’t meant you have to be a prick,” the servant bites back, voice dropped and tone dark. tommy scoffs, a half disbelieving, half hysteric laugh.
“that’s what he wanted!” memories of his father’s many teachings flood his mind. “don’t show emotion, don’t be weak, don’t disappoint me, no matter what i do it’s wrong!” tommy hasn’t done anything right that he can remember. it’s always be better, that’s not enough, don’t do that, you’re not good enough-
“have you ever considered listening?” tubbo’s voice is venom. their arguing has dropped to inside voices, but the pain and anger punctuated by each syllable that escapes tommy’s mouth is as apparent as it was when he was howling.
“i do listen!” he defied the other, throwing a hand to the side in a wild gesture. who does tubbo think he is?
“no you don’t!” tubbo argues back, bordering hysteric himself.
tommy’s eye twitches, and he has to smother cackles as he speaks, he’s sure he sounds like a deranged man.
“who do you think proposed, wrote and passed the amendment for treatment of servants within the castle and throughout the empire?” ire builds with each word he spoke, and he can tell tubbo isn’t expecting it. his resolve falters, and his next response seems weaker than his last.
“wilbur said he proposed the idea to his imperial highness-“
“wilbur lies!” tommy seethed, interrupting the server again. tubbo opens his mouth, then halts, apparently finally taking the meaning of his words into consideration.
he starts to look guilty.
“it- that was you?” it’s quiet now, tommy can tell he wants to deny it. tommy barks a laugh.
“treatment, pay and assigning of service within the castle was my mother’s duties, all of which were passed to me. of fucking course it was,” he snaps by the end, taking a pace or two back. tubbo is looking remorseful, now, pain painting clear on his face, like the consequences of his shallowness and other actions are racing to catch him now.
winning.
tommy brings the bottle to his lips once more and drinks, longing for the haze of drunkenness he’s heard so much about.
“tommy, i-“
“you lost any right you had to call me that the moment you even dared consider serving wilbur instead of me,” tommy cut in, tilting his head in a more menacing manner than curious. tubbo swallowed.
“i’ll be gone by tomorrow morning, don’t you worry.” he assures, before spinning on his heels and stomping off again, eryn and purpled hot on his trail.
when they reach his chambers, tommy makes one final effort and downs the rest of the wine, before he slams the empty bottle on his dresser and collapses to the floor, missing his bed by a long shot. purpled has to catch him instead, making sure his body’s reuniting with the ground isn’t as painful as it would have otherwise been.
weariness and emotion catch up to him, and sobs rack his body sooner than he can quell them. surprising him, purpled stays behind him to hold him, a firm yet not too tight grip on his shoulder keeping him grounded as he desperately tries to sort his emotion.
it’s a bit awkward, with his wings and all, but eryn emerges infront of him, offering out his hands. after a moments hesitation, tommy takes them in his own, and squeezes them like the other prompts, trying his hardest to listening to his personal assistant’s soothing words.
tommy’s face is a mess, his throat is hoarse and his hair is amuck. he is tired, and debates falling asleep where he sits. purpled is warm behind him, and the pressure against his shoulder blades, between his wings, makes a deeply buried instinct within him preen.
there is no rest for the wicked, though, and someone knocks at his door.
tommy doesn’t give them permission to enter, but the door opens anyways.
tubbo and ranboo are the first people he sees, but eryn beats him to words. “get out. you heard what the prince said earlier. i won’t hesitate to use force on you,” clearly, the two see something in the desolate scene before them, and the darkness in eryn’s words, before turning to leave.
tommy thinks he would have flushed, a mix of embarrassed and comforted by the threat, but his cheeks were already blossoming scarlet and marred by tear-tracks, a result, of course, of his treacherous crying and the effects of the alcohol.
that leaves him with no less than 5 of their guests at his chamber doors, however.
“we aren’t here to intrude,” sovereign king eret starts. yeah, good job so far.
“- we’re trying to talk sense into your father, prince theseus. it’s- a loosing battle, admittedly, but schlatt is prepared to challenge him.” sapnap continues, stumbling over his words for a moment.
“there’s a chance you stay here, but the possibility of you being exiled - at least for the time being - is there.” eret finishes, an apologetic lilt to his voice. tommy’s breath hitches at the thought of actually leaving his home- earlier, it had all been bark with no bite, he hadn’t yet considered the reality of living the consequences.
“the other four empires are in your support though, prince theseus,” duchess poki chimes in, a soft look on her face.
“you have open invitations from all the empires for indefinite stay, should you so choose to accept them if you are exiled,” duke sam finishes, voice gentle.
something about the offer- the promise of indefinite shelter- soothes his worries, and he exhaled, head lolling to the side. looking away from them.
he trusts eryn to deal with this.
“thank you,” he begins. tommy can tell he means it, half black-out drunk as he is. i’m such a lightweight. “i think, maybe it would be best if we are left alone for now. your offers are all greatly appreciated, please do not overlook that, but….” his voice trails off, and tommy can feel eyes on him once more.
“… we must pack,” he finishes lamely, but the people at his door seem to understand.
“if it helps, we’ve agreed to leave some guards stationed at your chamber doors; not antarctic empire, as they still serve the high emperor.” those words make his anxiety spike again, but duchess poki helps qualm that anxiety by adding on to what sir sapnap had just brought up.
“i have my own personal guard, rae, stationed here, and eret has agreed to lend punz. dream cannot be stopped from standing guard if we tried, and there are a dozen other men and attendants from our kingdoms combined on your side in this hallway. you are safe.” she finishes confidently, and her authoritive yet comforting demeanour helps him to relax further.
he has people in his corner, he thinks, relived.
“might i say,” comes a new voice; it’s rae.
“we are not doing this out of obligation to our royals, back there in the grand hall, you earned our respect more than you already have. we do this for you, not them.”
the conviction with with rae speaks is finaly enough the give him peace of mind - at least, enough to comfort his anxieties enough that he begins to feel himself drift to sleep.
purpled doesn’t jostle him as his body gradually goes lax, instead shifting himself to better accommodate tommy’s limp body.
the comforting sound of eryn’s now hushed voice discussing his safety with the people at his chamber door is enough to let him fall fast asleep.
for once, when tommy wakes up, it’s a slow thing. when his eyes first blearily fly open, he tries to push himself forward and get to his feet, on instinct, but something - someone behind him gently yet firmly pulls him back to his resting place against their chest, and to be frank, he’s still too tired to really care.
he’s in his bed leaning against a comfortable and protective warmth, what more could he want?
maybe for this pounding headache to be gone, he thinks - sort of. his thoughts are all jumbled and drifty.
there’s a split second where he has half a heart to be worried, but the person must sense that and immidiatly dispels his worry by carding soft fingers through his hair.
tommy turns into a puddle beneath the hand, body tingling from the contact - in a pleasant way, though. the rhythmic brushing of fingers in his hair, occasionally scratching at his scalp which makes his brain absolutely melt, prevents him from fully waking up just yet.
his consciousness returns to him more fully when there’s a knock at the door which halts the hand in his hair and makes his headache just that much worse.
am i hungover?
“erm, pardon- purpled?” one of the foreign knights stationed outside his door said, catching the person behind him’s attention.
“yes, sir dream?” he replies, voice low. tommy’s wings flare slightly, his tired and muddled brain upset at the lack of attention he was getting, deciding to be problematic by a mind of their own now that they were unbound.
“uh, someone’s here to talk to the prince, but-“
“you must leave at once,” a feminine voice interrupted, which made tommy lull his head to actually look at the people at his chamber door, eyes opening.
everything is blurry, at first, but once he focuses he quickly recognises her regal majesty, niki. her face is held taught and she looks none to pleased.
considering her introducing words, tommy feels his own muscles start to tense. purpled’s already are.
“the high emperor is searching for you, none of us are naive enough to think he wants to apologise,” she continues, stepping past the threshold of his room and talking down at him from the side of his bed.
her hands are clasped politely in her lap, but her expression reveals too much emotion for her to be properly following the code of royal etiquette.
“his men are coming for this wing next, i scarcely managed to throw them off for the time being by saying you were spotted with your chef,” she’s clearly going to talk more, her mouth is moving to form the next words, but-
“charlie!” the cry flees from his mouth before he can stop it, and he launches forward, now separated from purpled on his bed and clutching his duvet desperately beneath one of his hands.
if his father found charlie after the empress told him that, he’d be executed.
“prince theseus,” a voice parrots back swiftly, entering his room and brushing past the empress. her eyes, momentarily rounded with shock and concern, melt into something softer as tommy struggles to contain himself, attempting to get to his feet.
charlie, ever dutiful, helps him, and is instantly rewarded by tommy’s hands throwing up and around his neck in a hug that he has to stand on his tip-toes for.
charlie stumbles for only a second before returning the hug, being cautious of tommy’s wings, which instinctually wrap around the man also, to cocoon him.
the hug is very nice, tommy decides. he can’t remember when he last had one. it makes his skin prickle again in every place he’s being held, and his brain turns to goo for a second time.
he has to focus on his breathing, because when he didn’t, he forgot to actually do it.
“p-prince theseus, he’s downstairs. right now. we must leave,” punz interrupts, raggedly breathing outside his doors.
tommy released charlie, collecting himself.
now is not the time for weakness. he has to flee.
“vacate the floor behind us, he can’t know you were here. if he finds any of you, he’ll know i’m near.” he directs, looking around for eryn.
he’d been asleep on the chair in his room when tommy first noticed him, but now, he was at the ready, stood with three bags fully packed.
had he done that whilst tommy slept?
he tucks in his wings, and marches out his chamber, taking the hallway that would mean they didn’t bump into the high emperor.
the slightly hushed patter of several feet follow him.
“uh, prince theseus?” one knight, rae whispers, speeding up her pace to walk alongside him for a few moments.
“you have no shoes. or socks,” she comments, and tommy looks down at his pale feet and- yeah. he doesn’t have shoes; he must have forgotten to put them on.
the cold stone beneath his feet doesn’t really bother him though, so he shrugs.
“oh well,” he remarks, just before they head down the spiral stairwell.
tommy’s taking the lead on their escape, there’s no one who knows this castle better than he, after all, so they descend the stairwell all the way until they reach the ground floor, before taking a sharp left.
had they gone right, they’d be at the main gates of the castle, but it was undoubtedly guarded - in search of him and to protect the leavings guests, as the ceremony was now over - so tommy took them to the old, abandoned servants exit, from before the reform he passed.
serpents used to be unable to use the same entrance as nobles or royalty, and thus had to use this side-exit from the courtyard as to not be seen. that, now, was dated because of tommy’s reform and thus the side-exit was abandoned.
the door led them into the courtyard, so sir dream proposed an idea: try to sneak tommy into a carriage, under the cover of all the hustle and bustle of the guests leaving.
“how do we know which i can enter?” tommy had asked.
“all the empires extended an invite to you; it wouldn’t matter.” the knight had replied.
“it might be easiest if you join me with duchess poki,” madam rae commented, searching for her mistress through the barred window at the top of the door. “it’s only meant to be me and her in the carriage, as we are to be dropped off in her region of the rapids,”
tommy had fixed her with a perplexed look, before purpled put the puzzle pieces together for him. “we would all fit into one carriage,” rae smiled, nodding.
“precisely. once we leave the antarctic empire, we can tell the driver to take us to the kinoko castle with everyone else, instead, so you can stay there.”
“i can take charlie with me, i’m sure george and callahan won't mind the extra company,” sir dream interjects, and after receiving an affirmative nod from himself, charlie gracefully accepts the offer.
as for his own course of action, it was a solid plan, so, tommy tightened his wings as close to his body as he could manage, covering them as best he could with his still-tattered shirt, and hiding them under eryn’s half-cloak, which sat warmly on his shoulders.
they waited a while until rae gave them the go-ahead, and the four of them marched into the throng of people buzzing about, headed straight for one of the carriages.
with rae in the lead, he brought them to the correct carriage with ease and the three of them were within its confines before anyone could truly take note of their presence.
the door shut behind them and, apon seeing them, both duchess poki and rae leant simultaneously to the curtains on either side of the carriage and closed them.
no one uttered a word until they were moving.
“it’s great to see you back safe, rae, as for you three,” she said, looking pleased.
tommy was busy trying to unfurl his wings to allow them to be comfortable without being intrusive.
“if you’d like,” purpled spoke, looking at him, “you can lean against me again. you’ll have more room to spread your wings like that,” he suggested. tommy took a few moments to consider the logistics- purpled was right, of course, but he hesitated to accept.
was he still prince theseus? who was he without his title?
tommy decided to push the crisis to the back of his mind, for now, hoping that he’d feel less stressed with his wings not so tightly held to his body.
he can't remember the last time he had them unbound, let alone for this long. he doesn't think he’s ever actually had them out for such a long stretch of time.
as he’s adjusting himself on the cushioned bench of the carriage, duchess poki talks to them. “last night, i sent my personal assistant back to kinoko directly after you left. everyone argued much longer, but she was on her way by the time we came to talk to you in your chambers,” tommy nods, wondering where this is going. “she took a horse, she should have reached the palace by the time we woke. she brought tidings of our return, but also requested they summon the supreme ruler of las nevadas due to… complications that arose at the banquet.” oh. “his liege quackity should be there on our arrival.”
tommy has never met the supreme ruler of las nevadas before, the only place outside his own empire he’s known to frequent is kinoko kingdom, due to his pre-existing friendship with its leader, karl.
a nervous shiver shoots down his spine.
his liege quackity is the only other avian leader on the whole continent. for the longest time, he was thought to be the only one.
tommy isn't sure how he’s going to take it.
“what were people arguing about?” he asked, hesitantly at first. tommy thinks he can be a bit more casual - he isn't really a prince anymore. does he have to keep up the formalities?
tommy has never known what it's like to have a normal conversation before, one not shrouded in false fronts and icy platitudes.
the duchess’s face is kind as she talks to him. tommy is quite certain she is the nicest anyone has ever been to him.
“i was only there for the start, but it was lots of discourse on your attitude, though, many of us were actually in support of you,”
tommy took a sharp breath as she spoke, a long-trained shame filling him. the duchess's guard seemed to take notice of it, though, because she added to what her mistress said, “all guests from kinoko and las nevadas took your side, and most royal representatives did also. it was empress niki who seemed the most reserved, but it’s clear to us now that she was also on your side.”
“lots of the yelling was initiated by the high emperor,” the duchess agreed, and the words did something to soothe his nerves, though his anxiety was still in the forefront of his mind.
he doesn't regret his careless behaviour, he’s just worried as to how the noble ranks from the continent will view him after this. he had been rather petty and childish, though many would argue he was still a child.
he hasn't felt like a child in an age.
the duchess and her guard speak more on his support, and the reality of how things will go down from then on out. at a certain point, the curtains are pulled to allow some airflow and a view once they leave the grounds of the antarctic empire, and travel along one of the many routes used by merchants to get between the empires.
the antarctic empire, like most empires on the continent, has a coastal border; though it also shares borders with kinoko kingdom and the primelands. las nevadas is the only empire to be landlocked, surrounded by kinoko, the primelands and eldrian, which is on the opposite side of the continent to the antarctic empire.
it is no secret that kinoko and las nevadas are strong allies; they share the largest border of all the kingdoms, and for as long as anyone can remember, its leaders have been good friends.
tommy has sort of zoned out, after a certain point, looking at how the landscape around him changes. it’s fascinating to him, he’s never left the antarctic empire’s capital before, let alone the empire itself. it's been a few years since he’s left the castle grounds, either, so…
tommy can gather when they’re nearing the kinoko castle, tommy has heard tales of the magical, mushroom-filled lands that are staple of the castle’s location. with the sun only beginning its evening cycle, the light dapples beautifully on their path and the lush forest around them, slipping plentifully through the trees.
tommy knows when they’ve reaches the castle when they’re allowed though a grand set of gates, and the trees stop behind a high-rise, flower-covered stone wall.
the land is flatter, and filled with nothing but fields of vibrant budding blooms.
they reach a rustic, cobbled road, and before long, the carriage is stopping. tommy lets the duchess and her guard leave first, taking the time to tuck his wings in, under the torn back of his shirt and covering as much of them as he could with his half-cloak from eryn. only then did he allow himself to get out. the beauty of the castle struck him for a moment, but he tried not to show his bewilderment.
royals are meant to show indifference to the wealth of others.
its a lovely palace, divided up into several buildings, all joining with paths that lead to a central pond. the architecture is very different to that of the arctic castle, and tommy isn't familiar with it.
they are brought to the largest of the buildings, overgrown with a large, twisting oak and the largest red-capped mushroom he’s ever seen.
the guards bow to them as they enter, and they are guided to a large, engraved double-door, stone staircases leading to the other floors on either side.
the doors are opened for them, and tommy finds himself in the throneroom.
its long- like the grand hall was, and a red carpet path leads all the way up the steps that the throne is perched on.
in the seat is a man with a flower crown made of gold, dressed in a purple tailcoat and a white ruffled blouse. stood next to his throne, is another short man with a modest crown of silver and encrusted with sapphire. he wears a simple blouse and slacks with a grey, blue-toned waist-coat.
poised just behind the throne and to the sides stood 2 guards, with a serving boy each stood next to them.
tommy’s eyes widen slightly when he notices a pair of navy-gray wings on the short man’s back. a pang of something akin to resentment and jealousy flares within him when he sees their slick, glossy look and the way none of his feathers seem bent or bloody.
tommy is almost certain that his wings had left a feathery mess in the carriage they’d arrived in.
they get closer, and stop a few paces from the stairs leading to the throne. tommy is stood behind prince george, who had travelled in a carriage infront of them, his personal guard sir dream and personal assistant callahan, several other knights who had accompanied them and the servants as well as the duchess and her personal guard. eryn stood beside him, while charlie and purpled brought up the rear.
the king before them spoke warmly, happy to see the return party.
“george, its great to have you back. pokimane,” he directed his attention to the duchess, who curtsied to him.
“your royal highness,” she returned the greeting, lifting her head to look at him once she rose again. the king studied her for a few moments, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.
“i received your personal assistant, and sent for his liege quackity immediately.” he surmised, giving a gentle gesture towards the other leader. said man dipped his head, posture more relaxed than any royal he’d ever seen before, with his arms crossed.
he looked a bit imposing from this distance; tommy counted three scars on the man’s face alone- one going straight down from his eyebrow to his cheekbone, one across his nose-bridge and one at the corner of his lip.
tommy swallowed with a new uncertainty.
“what was the complication you faced, duchess poki?” the king asks, leaning forwards in his throne. he seems intrigued, the interest seems concerned, though.
“the high emperor exiled his crown prince. he needs a place to say.” the duchess replies bluntly. she speaks with confidence, not an ounce of uncertainty to be seen. it’s a feat tommy is growing to admire about the duchess; she’s confident, or at least presents as such.
“he what?” his liege quackity remarks, sounding wholly taken aback. tommy can see the king wear his own expression of confusion, brown eyes wide with the shock.
“the high emperor exiled his son, and until further action is taken, it is unsafe for him to remain in the antarctic empire.” the duchess calmly explain, hands held neatly at her lap. tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and eryn casts him a weary look.
by the time tommy looks up, the supreme ruler of las nevadas is talking again, having apparently collected himself.
tommy feels like he’s going to have to come forth soon.
“this is- horrible, don't get me wrong, but why was i called for? i have an empire of my own to run,” he sounds as though he’s disinterested again, unamused. tommy breathes sharply; he isn't sure why he had been summoned either, but he can hazard a guess.
he takes a few steps forward, keeping his gaze on the floor as he does so. people part to make way for him, anyways, until both rulers can see him. he’s aware of how he looked- raggard and tired, a torn shirt with no socks or shoes.
he speaks anyways, looking up to the rulers.
they look aghast.
“pleased to make your acquaintance at long last, your liege,” he says, trying to steel his voice. for whatever reason, it is much harder than it used to be. he turns his eyes to the other ruler, “your royal highness,” he greets the other.
they stare at him in silence for a few seconds, before king quackity is the one to speak.
“why,” he begins, making tommy flinch by the way his voice is grating and wrangling emotions tommy can't decipher, “has everyone failed to tell me that the crown prince of the antarctic empire,” he pauses again, breathing sharply. tommy is holding his own breath, not daring to exhale before the scrutinising looks of the kings. “is avian?”
it isn't the finish tommy was expecting, and the surprise is more of a relief than anything, though he is still tense. tommy decides to take a gamble, and tries to lessen the tension with an air of humor.
“admittedly,” he replies, swallowing once more. his mouth just feels so dry, like his anxiety is absorbing the moisture in his mouth to make it harder for him to talk, “they only just found out last night.”
his humor is a miss, apparently, because the silence is the same.
uh oh.
“... wings come in no later than twelve.” the supreme ruler of las nevadas manages, sounding choked with barely-restrained anger.
tommy winces, turning his gaze to the floor. “i am aware, i’ve had my wings for nine years.” he mutters, trying to pull them closer to his body. the avian king makes some form of distressed noise that clashes horribly with his deep-buried instincts, and tommy tries his hardest to ignore it.
“alright. why, pray tell, were you exiled?” king karl manages, shifting the topic slightly. tommy is about to reply, but eryn steps forward to his side and bites out the words before he can.
“it’s the high emperor’s stray, wilbur.” tommy is surprised by eryn’s fury, but he supposes it makes sense. he had a comfortable enough life in the castle- his status as the crown prince’s personal assistant made him of great value within the castle itself, and with the recent reform, he was well on his way to having a very content life, if he hadn't one already.
it was a huge step up from his previous employment, so tommy can understand why he's upset; wilbur practically had tommy thrown out, which means eryn’s name is taken down alongside him.
“wilbur?” the supreme ruler of las nevadas parroted, sounding surprised. his face morphed into one of recognition, and prince george took a step forward, inserting himself into the conversation once more.
“you’re familiar?” he asked, eyes unreadable from under a pair of white-rimmed glasses he was now wearing. tommy hasn't seen them before, they weren't present at all for any of the proceedings throughout the annual summer ceremony.
“he served a short stint in the nevadas casinos, he was punished for stealing, then left.” there’s a glint in the king’s eyes, something that gives tommy the impression that it isn't quite the truth, and that there’s something deeper - perhaps the stolen artefact had been sentimental? or maybe, perhaps wilbur had hurt someone.
tommy’s not quite sure about that last thought, wilbur’s thin as a stick and seems entirely incapable of causing bodily harm because an actual toddler would be able to beat him in a fight.
“so he’s a thief?” prince george confirms, more of a question than a statement. he hears eryn snort discontentedly beside him, muttering something.
“and he’s stolen the prince’s place in the castle,” the words strike a frightful chord within tommy’s heart; they are his own thoughts, but he has assumed all these months that he has been the only one to truly take notice of it.
“so it would seem.” king karl adds, and tommy clenches his fists - the kings were not meant to hear eryn’s comment. well, tommy assumes that’s the case.
“makes sense,” he grits out, having to force each syllable with a great deal of effort. “all he’s done is take what's mine. my guard, my personal assistant, my reputation, my father,” the words are a confession, and tommy finally confronts them as he says them: wilbur has replaced him.
tommy is no longer crown prince, he is no longer the heir to the antarctic empire and he is no longer the high emperor’s son.
wilbur is. wilbur is phil’s new son. he might as well be royalty.
the room brood over his words, his admission, for a while, before being interrupted by king karl. his voice is laced with concern, but it is the most authoritative he’s sounded since they arrived.
“- this is all grave, i am aware, but you look dead on your feet.” the comment is bland and blunt and tommy recoils slightly, before remembering: he looks dreadful. in yesterday’s shirt, no waist-coat, and the back of his shirt donning a great big hole. no shoes.
he supposes he does look a little like death warmed over.
“george, why don't you bring our guests to some of the guest rooms? we can continue this conversation when you’re well rested,” the king offers, and tommy finds himself liking the idea more and more. he doesn't remember these polite exchanges being so draining - and these aren't nearly as up-tight as they used to be.
a sliver in the back of his mind tells him it’s because he hasn't allowed himself to feel the exhaustion before.
the king narrows his eyes after a second, before adding, “all of you. i can see the weariness in your eyes, rae, this order extends to you, too.”
tommy turns to see the knight glaring brightly, a defiance glittering in her eyes.
when she speaks, it is slow.
“with respect, i don't serve your orders,”
a tone such as her’s would have been severely punished in the antarctic empire, but the duchess seems entirely unbothered and brightly speaks next.
“and yet you serve mine. get some rest, you’ve been up all night.”
at that, the knight’s body sags, and tommy can see the extent of her exhaustion- there are bags forming beneath her eyes, and her usually pristine braid is coming loose, her har a mild mess.
king karl makes a dismissive motion with his hand, and the group turn after george, who is confidently walking down the carpet as the others trail behind him.
the walk is pleasant, if not a bit too warm for him. it is summer throughout the kingdoms, but tommy is yet to experience the season without the chill the antarctic empire still brings. sure, flowers bloom and their stunning colours are in season, but he’s never actually been in the outside warmth before.
tommy doesn't have long to ponder on the circumstances, as they’re swiftly brought into one of the other main buildings, this one much taller than the last. clearly, it is designated for the royals to sleep, as everything is rather homey; a form of common-room on each floor, alongside some bedchambers.
prince george guides them to the third floor, flashing them a brief apologetic glance as they’re brought to a room.
“none of our prepared guest rooms contain larger beds, these are more so for younger guests…” the room in question has two single beds, but tommy isn't going to complain.
“it’s perfectly fine,” he consoles, trying to be reassuring.
“wonderful. i can have another room made up, as there are four of you.”
tommy thanks the prince, and the four of them leave themselves in the room they’d been presented first for the time-being. with the door shut, he gravitates towards the small terrace they have, overlooking the mountains that lay behind the main palace grounds.
“your imperial majesty?” tommy turns to look at purpled, who has one of his bags. tommy feels a flood of something, not returning his guard’s eyes.
“dont- that's not my title. not anymore. i’m no prince, just,” tommy hesitates a moment, before coming to a sturdy resolve and continuing. “just theseus. or - well, tommy, if… if you really feel like it,” he offers, putting his heart on the line.
the last people he’d trusted with his nickname; the name he chose for himself instead of calling himself theseus, had betrayed him, just like that.
“tommy,” purpled trials the word, smiling to himself. “tommy- you should change, maybe have a bath as well, you could do with some relaxation,” he offers, and tommy considers it.
“once i find the bathroom, i’ll prepare myself one-” eryn looks alarmed when he speaks surging to his feet from where he was sitting on the side of the bed.
“that's for me to do, your- tommy. that's my job.” tommy frowns at this.
he isn't the prince anymore, eryn doesn't serve him. none of them do, not anymore.
“... i'm not crown prince anymore, eryn. you don't serve me.” eryn looks taken aback for a second, before his eyes clear and he stares right back at tommy.
“right. that just means i can actually be rude now, doesn't mean i can't do things for you.” tommy is startled by the conviction with which he speaks, as well as the jovial tone he has. tommy blinks for a few seconds, stumped.
did… did eryn just want to be mean? or was it in good fun, like a friend?
“come on, i’ll prepare you a bath, you can have your crisis in there,” tommy’s jaw clicks shut, purpled and charlie snorting and sniggering respectively at eryn’s comment. tommy finds, after a few seconds, that a smile tries to quirk at his lips as well.
eryn opens the door, soldiering in search of a bathroom, only to find a startled king quackity standing there, prepared to knock at the door. eryn near jumps from his skin, almost slamming the door on him again.
“i- sorry, uh, your liege, i was just heading out-” eryn scrambles to explain, and the king scoffs light-heartedly.
“don't fret, i’m here to have a word with prince theseus, is all.” oh dear. that makes his worry spike, almost laughably so.
“um. of course. i’ll just…” eryn awkwardly sidesteps the king, who looks down at him with an amused sort of expression.
eryn scrambles away once he isn't trying to get around the other, and tommy is left with purpled, charlie, and an avian king.
“can i have a word, prince theseus?” he asks, tone much lighter. it seems like he’s genuinely asking, and that he’ll simply accept if tommy says no.
“um, of course, your liege.” no! you're meant to say no! stop saying yes to things you don't want to do!
the king flashes him a bright smile, asking tommy to follow him. say no!
he follows the king silently.
tommy remains quiet, even as the king walks him to another small building within the palace grounds, the interior distinctly more modern and dark blue than the rustic, floral of the other buildings he’s been in.
“i know prince george told you that only a single guest room was prepared, but i have a more permanent residence here, as does king karl in las nevadas.” ah. that does make sense.
tommy peers around the man, glancing at his bed. tommy’s never seen this type of bed before: it is a circle.
quite literally, the mattress is round. its not a nest of blankets on a larger, rectangular mattress, the whole thing - including the bedstand - is a circle.
the back of his mind screeches the word nest.
when he manages to snap his eyes away, he becomes aware of how intently the king is staring at him, despite having only one working eye. his expression is a mix of softly amused and deeply upset.
“nest, right?” he asks and, good graces, tommy is startled; is this king a mind-reader as well?
“it’s instinct, i have them too.” not helping his ‘im-avian-not-psychic’ case. “you said you’ve had your wings for nine years?” tommy nods sheepishly, shuffling the appendages on his back. he watches as a feather of his falls to the ground, and he swiftly picks it up, crushing the thing in his palm, embarrassment flooding through him.
“sorry,” he mumbles, twiddling the broken thing between his fingers as he lets his eyes burn a hole into the floor.
he still isn't wearing shoes.
“- how much do you know about wing care?” the king asks, sounding as though he is restraining himself with a great deal of effort. tommy doesnt like to think what exactly he’s restraining. when he makes no reply, the king adjusts his question, desperation seeking into his voice. “avians?”
tommy perks slightly at that; he knows some history of avians.
“i- i know that they flew to the continent an age ago, and were the first settlers here. that… that they created factions, then their own empires.. and that the genes slowly died out, so avians became scarce,” he offers. when he looks at the king’s face, tommy feels crushed.
the king looks absolutely crestfallen, and tommy feels like he’s just told a sweet old lady that her cat has died.
“can we sit?” the king asks, gesturing to the beanbags in the room. tommy nods stiffly, sitting in the one opposite to the king. tommy’s never actually sat in a beanbag before, and he doesnt think he’s ever seen one, either, so he remains stiff as a board as he sits in it.
the king crosses his legs in his beanbag, shifting a bit in an attempt to get comfortable. tommy wants to mimic the action, for a reason unfathomable to him, but manages to refrain himself. he sits, knees up with his feet still on the floor and his hands in his lap.
the king fixes him with a look tommy can’t quite place, frowning mildly, before asking:
“have you ever been flying?”
tommy frowns in return. should he be able to fly? “no,”
the king’s brows furrow, not pleased by the answer. he hesitates a moment, before asking, “have you ever molted?
tommy scrunches his brow, confused. what is molted? the word isn't familiar to him, so he goes out on a limb and assumes he’s never done it before. his voice is uncertain when he answers. “no..?”
the king goes bug-eyed for a second, quickly collecting himself. his eye twitches slightly as he tilts his head, asking his next question. “have you ever preened?” his words are significantly more strained than before.
it’s another term tommy doesn't know. preen? what’s preen? he, again, thinks it’s probably safest to answer the negative, struggling to think of things preen could be.
“no?”
the king looks downright concerned when he says that, jaws parted with no sound for a few seconds, before his jaws click shut once more and he thinks.
“i- do you bind your wings?” he asks slowly, and tommy’s face lights. he knows that! he does that!
“yes!” he blurts, smiling faintly. when the king does not share the enthusiasm or even relief, he backtracks a bit, stammering to explain himself, a sudden shame at his outburst coursing through him. “i-, yeah. i know what that one means,”
there is an uncomfortable silence in the following moments. the king swallows, breathing in harshly.
“how often do you bind them?” his words are cautious, as if he’s tiptoeing past his own thoughts and feelings. tommy tries to return back to his enthusiasm, deciding that, if he ignores the swelling pit of anxiety in his gut and tries to stay positive, he can forgo the crushing unease entirely.
“always!” he pushes, though it sounds strained even it him. he sounds like a child, trying to say the right thing in order to please their father. it’s right, in a way. king quackity isn't his father, but tommy is certainly trying to please him.
“do - do you wash them?” the king tries, voice getting more and more desperate. tommy has to think a little harder about that one, because he’s never actually cleaned the things. he’s lathered them in essential oils and scents so they don't stink, but other than that, he’s never really tried much.
“they get all soggy and heavy, and they hurt to try. the bandages i use are waterproof, so-” he tacs on, remembering how relieved he’d been when he’d managed to snatch some of the waterproof stuff, after around two years of having to use normal stuff that would go soggy and bad if he got in the bath wearing them
he’s cut off suddenly, though, when the king snaps at him
“stop being so enthusiastic!” he yells, and tommy shrinks back into himself. tommy’s never done well with yelling, especially if it isn't him. “binding your wings is bad, okay? very, very bad!” the king goes on, bringing his noise level down, eyes burning into tommy’s form.
his mouth goes dry, enthusiasm swiftly draining.
“...what?” he breathes, shifting his legs uncomfortably. this entire time, the king has sounded pained, and it hasn't been more evident than it is in the current moment.
“an avian should never bind their wings, ever. it-” the man’s wings fluff up, twitching outward slightly, as if the appendages themselves are distraught. “it’s criminal that you have.”
that makes tommy’s thoughts still for a moment. criminal? that means hes in trouble- more trouble than already. how has he even managed that? if his breathing wasn't even before, it was sporadic now. he scarcely managed to properly string together his words in a way that was coherent.
“im… going to be punished?”
the king looked alarmed, realising the connotations that his words actually held.
“i- heavens, no, it,” he pauses again, collecting his composure- though it doesnt do much. he’s still a little frantic, but he doesn't comment on it. “look, kid, those- those thoughts in the back of your mind, the ones… you bury, yeah?”
huh. that’s a little out of the blue. tommy does know what he’s talking about, and it’s illegal to lie to royalty or a ruler, so…
“yeah…” he says, cautiously.
“those are instincts. they’re your avian instincts, okay? can you hear them?” he asks, to which tommy just gives a small, stiff nod. “good. what are they saying?” he asks and tommy’s thoughts kind of just… stop. what sort of weird question was that?
nevertheless, king quackity is his superior, so… he listens.
or, tries, at least. the ‘instincts’ he has are usually things he either isn't aware of enough to shut down, or the thoughts he hates to have. it’s a presence deep in the back of his conscience that he’s spent time burying, so actively seeking it out in his mind feels wrong.
the instinct follows in that vein, as it tries desperately to move his body away from the king, and back in the room he’s been given so he doesn't have to face this conversation.
he can hear the screeches of danger, but he can't just say that, so…
“um… nothing?” he tries for, concentrating.what should he say? king quackity expects an answer. “i just… kinda want to, like… hide?” he tries, his voice nervously lilting. goodness, i’ve shown more emotion the past day than i have ever. like, combined.
“i’m not going to hurt you, prince theseus.” the king offers, voice slow- an attempt to be easily-digestible. tommy looks away, feeling very called out.
“r-right.” he tries to affirm, but it’s very weak and unconvincing. king quackity has spent this entire conversation telling him how horrible he is at being an avian. still reeling from last night, he isn't really sure who he can trust.
“sorry for coming off so harsh, its just-” he drags a hand down his face, before pulling it through the hair that falls from beneath the front of the crown, pushing it out of his face. “i know one singular avian - she lives in eldrian. you are the second. my instincts? they're livid, not at you, for you. i’m upset on your behalf.”
tommy shifts again; he supposes that makes sense. the prospect of being the third avian alive right now makes something in him uneasy, though, and he’s… he’s really confused. with his exile, his reveal, being sat in a beanbag conversing with a king - everything is all a bit much.
tommy wants another charlie hug. that made him feel nice, he kind of wants to feel it again.
“oh…” words are failing him, it’s all he can manage.
“when i look at you, my instincts scream fledgling,” when tommy hears that words, the voice in the back of his head practically screams, violently trying to fill his conscious. that word, the label, it feels right to that instinct, and tommy struggles to stop it, tightening his closed jaw so no sound can escape. “and its upsetting to hear how neglectful you’ve been.”
at the chastising, the instincts quiver again, upset. he doesn't know why he’s so upset at having displeased king quackity, they met like twenty minutes ago. tommy’s going to chalk it up to avian things. that’s probably the best explanation he’s going to be getting for a while.
“that sounds- no, i'm not blaming you,” he backtracks, seemingly catching how tommy gets even more tense. he’s found the entire conversation incredibly uncomfortable, so his stiffness was a constant, but the king can see when his body gets held even more tightly. “it’s atrocious how neglectful you’ve been forced to be towards your wings. there are - basics you should have known a long time ago.”
“what,” he begins on impulse, clicking his jaw shut quickly. when he glances over at the king, he’s giving tommy an encouraging look, “what are the basics? that i should know,”
“binding your wings is never okay.” the king swiftly starts, not even hesitating for a moment to think. tommy shrinks further in on himself slightly, “you should have and do need a flock. you need to preen at least once a week.”
tommy wants to interject and say he doesn't know what any of that means, but the king talks with so much confidence, so… “you should always have a nest or the ability to create a nest.” a nest?
does he have to sleep in trees, now?
“do… do you know what any of that means?” the king looks at him, finally catching on to tommy’s ever growing confusion. tommy swallows, averting his eyes.
“um. no.”
the king seems to… buffer for a moment, straining to keep himself composed. after a little while of gawking, he finds his voice once more. “okay. uh,” that sounds like a great start. “who… do you have anyone you trust?”
the tommy catches tommy unaware, and his eyes snap back to the king, head tilting like a curious cat.
“what?” he manages, other words - polite words - failing him completely.
“a close friend? someone you’d lay down your life for,” the king clarifies, a hit of desperation finding a way into his tone. tommy thinks for a minute.
“um,” is eryn his friend? are purpled and charlie his friends? he brings himself back to what the king just said. would i lay down my ice for them? would i sacrifice myself for them?
absolutely. i… i think i love them. they are my friends.
“yes. i - yeah. yeah.”
“good. this- it’s probably better if i explain to them,” the king says apologetically, as if tommy has a right to be upset. the king is offering to him a kindness, tommy can’t sneer in the face of it. that’s like, a basic rule of hospitality. “so they can explain to you.” he continued, offering an assuring smile.
tommy can’t return it, he doesn't… really know how?
“it’s probably pretty impersonal and uncomfortable if i do, since we just met.” he finished and tommy had absolutely zero ideas what that meant. at this point, words were going into his brain but their meaning was not. his thoughts were drifting in and among words that held no value.
“erm, of course.” he tried for. he doesn't actually know what an appropriate response is. how should he?
“who is it?” the king looks at him waiting.
tommy’s mind blanks once more.
“what?”
the king’s brows furrow and he looks concerned once more.
“that you trust? so i can talk to them,”
- right. that.
“uh, my… friends.” dear god that feels weird to say. “charlie, eryn and purpled.”
the king continues to stare at him when tommy does not make anymore additions
“is that all?” he asks, a bit bluntly. tommy levels his stare with his own unblinking one, looking rather owlish. the king swallows. “are… they your only friends?”
tommy feels a little attacked. is he meant to have more?
“grand duke schlatt was always nice to me… duchess poki was, too. and prince george,” is this tommy’s basis for friendship? who’s shown him basic human decency? “their guards were nice also.”
the bar for him is so low right now.
“- but they’re not necessarily close?” the king speaks for him, and tommy nods in affirmation.
“yeah, they’re just - they’re nice. to me.” he clarifies, picking at the skin around his nails.
“good. cool. that- that’s all, really. i’ll talk to your friends.” the king finishes lamely, something tommy can’t quite place falling over his face. a sadness he’s never really faced before.
the king stands up, body still held taught and rigid. tommy stands up as well, still looking down.
it was a very draining conversation.
“um. thanks?” he offers, still unsure on what the right course of action is for this type of interaction.
“no problem, kid.” the king replies easily, heading to the doors of his room and opening them, standing to the side to allow tommy to leave first. tommy ducks his head in thanks and does so, only to have eryn nearly collide with him in the living space.
“tommy! your bath is ready,” he bellows, chest puffed and breathing slightly heavily. how much running did he just do?
“oh. thank you, eryn.” he speaks softly, so different from all the times he addressed others as prince theseus. he’s just… he’s tommy, only tommy, now. he has wings and he’s an exiled mess.
tommy just… he doesn't know. eryn leads him to the bath and tommy doesn't know.
who is he, if not theseus: cold prince of the antarctic empire? who is he if not a heartless slave for his father’s kingdom.
he shuts the door, clicking the lock, and takes off his tattered garnements. eryn has left some clothes for him on the small wooden shelf by the bath.
tommy is a drifter, now. he can’t really demand respect anymore, he has no title, he is a refugee, but… did he ever?
he is tommy. theseus was the prince, his father’s imperfect perfection. was tommy ever theseus? are they one in the same?
he doesn't know.
the bathroom is dark, it has a sink and mirror on one side and a bathtub that is nestled between three walls, like an extension to the room itself.
his wings feel heavy, and they ache more than usual. normally, when they’re bound, he can ignore them, of course, he’s in silent agony, but he built a tolerance for the pain over the years. he’s not used to them being out, though, so they throb with pain, weak under their own weight and every time something touches them it’s almost blinding pain.
each feather feels like it has a million splinters, digging into his flesh and tugging. the muscles hurt, like every single one has been pulled or snapped, and he whimpers as they shift.
tommy steps into the bath, relishing the heat of the water.
he doesn't manage to fully wrangle a noise of pain - a gasping, whimpering something, he isn't quite sure - as his wings lower into the water.
as the heat seeps past the feathers and water pools over the actual skin of his wings, he is wracked with a white-hot agony, blinding and burning.
he feels like his mind blanks from the pain, and when he comes to, there are loose feathers in the bath with him and water splashed against the back wall and the sides of the tub.
there’s a frantic knock at the bathroom door.
“theseus, are you alright?”
it seems like purpled has been asking for some time.
“i will come in there, the-”
“i’m alright, purpled!” he called. the knight outside the bathroom stops.
“are you sure?” he asks. tommy’s heart melts slightly - he is concerned, truly. he gives a faint smile, kind and soft and never seen before on a boy like him-
“yes. i’ll be alright. thank you.”
he can hear purpled’s footsteps leaving after a few moments.
the rest of the bath is painful, but more bearable. the soaps and washes are nice, and tommy uses a little bit of the bath salt as well. he tries to ignore the agony that is his now water-logged wings, and is only semi-successful.
by the time he gets out, he feels overly tired - again, he just woke up - and everything aches.
his wings, his back, his skin, his head - tommy is still hungover. huh.
he dries himself off with a great deal of effort, and only once his wings are semi-dry, and the rest of his body is drop-less, does he dare put the clothes laid out for him on.
he’s hesitant to put the shirt on, because it’s going to get damp and he’s either going to have to rip holes in it, or keep his wings bound, which king quackity told him strictly not to do.
… but wet clothes are also something he’s been taught never to have, so…
what does he do?
he’s looking at the shirt, holding the soft cloth in his hand, when he realises:
there’s two slits in the back . they’re subtle at first, but… they’re there. they’re big, too, and tommy doesn’t doubt that he can fit his wings through them…
huh. so that’s how king quackity did it.
he slips one arm into the shirt, before figuring out how to get his wings through. it takes a little hassle, but he gets it done, so he can put the other sleeve on and button it up.
it’s cosy. he’s wearing some tan half-shorts, which eryn picked for him, and he… still has no shoes.
towelling his hair one last time, he puts the damp fabric over his shoulders and exits the bathroom, hesitating a moment before following the sound of voices to where he hopes his designated room is.
“-got all of that?”
“yep!” tommy pokes his head through the door as charlie finishes writing something in a notebook, and closes it. the king turns around to look at him when he notices, and smiles.
“wonderful timing, theseus. i’ve just finished explaining.” he comments, walking to the door. he hovers inside the room to allow tommy to pass through the doorway, before he exits.
“i’ll grab those books for you?” the king asks the people in his room. charlie beams at him.
“that would be wonderful, thank you!” he thanks, and king quackity nods.
“of course. i’ll drop them off the next time i see you,” he added, before leaving and closing the door behind him.
tommy now stands a few feet from the door, hands held by his stomach as he picks at his fingers, not turning to his… friends.
his friends.
“tommy,” eryn starts, making him turn his head to look his former personal assistant in the eyes. eye-contact is courteous.
“king quackity just explained lots of avian things to us,” charlie waves the book around in indication. “he said it would be best if we tried to start with it now. would- would you mind?”
tommy pauses, thinking. does he mind? surely, if a king wants him to do it, he should, he has to, since he isn’t royalty anymore and doesn’t have the same freedom to deny a royal request-
“do you want your wings to stop hurting?” purpled asks, bringing his thoughtstream to a halt.
… he would like that.
“yes please,” tommy isn’t sure if he should have tacked that ‘please’ on, but it feels right, and no one yells at him, so he takes it as a win.
eryn, charlie and purpled all start moving all at once, and tommy struggles to keep up with everything- they’re all running to and fro, collecting things, moving stuff, talking at him-
it takes a few minutes, but eventually eryn beckons him to one of the beds and tommy does as he’s told, thankful to have a proper, clear instruction.
he sits on the bed, facing the foot of it, and he has his head tilted so he can see the world outside, through the wall that is just 100% a window.
the sun fills the room with all the light they could ever need, and tommy can gaze out unto the wilderness beyond, finding a focus in a small waterfall cascading down the mountainside the room is facing.
“we’re going to touch your wings, okay?”
tommy nods, eyes remaining on the world outsid. it’s so beautiful, there are colours and greenery…
“it’ll probably be weird, maybe a little painful, but we’re gonna move onto the important stuff once you’re used to it, yeah?”
tommy nods again, not really focusing on the words.
“can you stretch your wings out for us, tommy?”
oh, it’s so soft… and caring, and tommy thinks he feels loved by just the tone of the words, but… he doesn’t really know. he can’t tell.
still, he does as he is instructed, and lets his wings stretch.
as much as he can, that is. it isn’t very far, and his muscles are trembling under the strain of trying to stretch fully.
“… tommy?”
he swallows.
“yeah?”
eryn hesitates.
“can… can you not go further?”
tommy doesn’t move his eyes from the window, but blinks slowly, fighting the urge to cry.
i’m sorry. i’m sorry i’m not good enough, that i’ll never be good enough.
“no….”
eryn doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
then, “i have an idea. please bear with me.” he says, and tommy can feel gentle hands on his wings - sort of. they’re at the base of his wings, around the area that they meet his back, and the pressure slowly gets increased.
before long, eryn is trying to rub away the crimps in his muscles that are preventing him from spreading his wings. tommy has no say, as purpled and charlie take the main muscle of his wings - one on either wing - and try to do the same.
through all the pain and aches, and the strangeness of hands on his wings, tommy… well, he finds himself relaxing, enjoying the attention.
it’s been forever since he’s had physical contact, since before… everything.
as he relaxes, so do his wings, and after their coaxing, they lay flat, like how eryn wants.
“perfect, tommy. you did amazing.” what did he do? he feels something inside him swells at the praise, anyways.
they pet his wings some more, and tommy finally grows accustomed to the alien feeling.
“we’re going to start now, alright?” eryn prompts, and tommy merely hums his affirmative response, eyes resting once more on the outside world.
it’s so gorgeous, the trees… the flowers, the waterfall… who would ever want to leave?
the hands over his wings move, when one pair - eryn’s, he thinks - gently coaxes a feather into a different position. at first, the feather stung from being meddled with, but very quickly, it was soothed.
and then eryn moved onto the next one, and the next one, and the next one.
he’s working in some form of order, tommy knows, but-
his wings stop aching, they feel relaxed and soothed and-
something about it is so right.
flock.
tommy looses himself at some point. it feels nice, he’s all warm, everything is fuzzy, and he’s safe. he feels at peace and, for once, there’s no danger.
when he gains some semblance of conscious memory - a semblance, because everything is still floaty and distant and nice - his legs are under the sheets, and he’s propped up against many, many pillows and eryn, upper body slightly curled into a ball.
it’s so soft, and cozy, and nice and-
eryn runs his hands carefully through his now-dry hair (how much time passed?), and tommy may just have a new favourite thing.
ever.
it’s peaceful and calm, and something happens - tommy isn’t quite sure, he thinks eryn may have lightly scratched his scalp, and tommy-
cheep!
his heart halts, as does eryn’s hand.
what the fuck was that?
his body goes ridged, and he starts to lean his body away from his former personal-assistant, his mind conflicting screams of good-good-preen-flock-happy and what the fuck what was that what did i do wrong-
“tommy, tommy, tommy-“ eryn starts, almost a chant - a mantra - running his fingers through his hair again and halting tommy’s shifting, keeping tommy in his place and yet not trapping him there all at once.
“that’s a chirp, it’s just a chirp. you’re avian, it’s normal and it’s good.” he clambers, trying to get his words through tommy’s mildly panicking head. it works, sort of, and tommy goes lax again, trying to find his comfort in eryn’s embrace.
it works.
“chirping is a normal reflex, they can mean lots of things. this is good, you’re… you’re happy. it was a cheep, you’re safe.” eryn’s half talking to himself, and tommy just likes the sound of his voice. something about the rumble he can feel at his ribs against his own body soothes him too.
he blearily glances to the window, only to find the sun setting over the mountaintops. sunset? already?
“how…” god, his throat feels dry. “how long has it been?” he manages to ask. everythig outside is still beautiful and colourful and stunning, but it’s now washed in a warm glow; soft yellow light emanating from behind the mountains.
everything was starting to get darker, shadows growing and muting the bountiful colours, but the stream of water still glistened in the yellow light, and it would continue to do so under the light of the moon and the stars.
“uh, quite a few hours… dinner should be soon. they’ll probably want us to attend.” purpled pipes up from his place in the chair by the window. he turns his head towards them from the outside, a soft smile on his face.
tommy tries to return it.
sighing one final time, he looks back over to the window, longing for nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. it’s so nice.
“when do we have to go?” he asks, not glancing back at them. eryn huffs a laugh.
“charlie managed to convince them to let him join them in the kitchens,” it isn’t an answer, but the image in his mind he creates makes him giggle softly, a quiet thing.
“how long ago was that?” he asks further.
“a couple of hours ago, at least. they’ll probably want us ready really soon, we… we ought to get ready.” tommy has always appreciated eryn - well, sort of; he hated him in the first few weeks, because he was meant to be tubbo, but that was a short-lived stint - and it doesn’t stop now.
eryn is always so nice to him, a perfect balance. purpled, too. they compliment eachother very nicely, and tommy actually likes being around them.
still, he’s letting his mind wander. they have a dinner to prepare for. there’s probably going to be more politics talk, and discussion on what he’s going to do, because despite their promises tommy doubts he’s going to be able to stay here forever.
with great reluctance, he peels himself from eryn’s side and stands, folding his wings comfortably at his back. purpled and eryn also get up, watching him as he just sort of… stares into nothingness for a few seconds.
“tommy?” purpled tries.
“this is a formal dinner. we need - is there anything we can do to prepare?” he asks, sort of pulling at straws. both eryn and purpled shut their mouths and look a little taken aback.
tommy frowns, drawing some conclusions.
“you haven’t changed since yesterday.” he states out loud. they look a little sheepish.
“i should… i’ll ask, maybe… if they can gather some things. for you. did they bring anything else? they gave me these clothes,” he rambles slightly, and eryn perks up slightly.
“of course! they did drop off a few other things, and i really did pack- like, your entire dresser. is in that bag.”
he gestures to a bag that sits by the window, next to the chair purpled had been sat on. it… it’s a small bag, and tommy knows there were lots of clothes in that dresser.
tommy’s respect for eryn multiplies by tenfold. again.
“do- do you think some of it would fit you? i- i’d feel bad if you didn’t get to change,” he admits, feeling his face heat up. purpled smiles at him, and eryn assures him that yeah, something ought to fit, and then they’re all rummaging through the bag, pulling out an increasingly nonsensical number of articles of clothing.
“how did you even fit this in there?” purpled exclaims as he tugs out tommy’s mini-sword and sheath. he’s 80% sure that thing is like, at least one and a half times the length of that bag. tommy finds himself in fits of giggles once more as eryn too looks at it in astonishment and abundant confusion.
“i- mate, i have no idea.” they all start laughing after that.
they reach the bottom of the bag, and-
“no wonder this was so heavy! i thought you had a whole child in here when you passed it to me,” purpled whines, as the three of them lean in to look ar the final contents of the bag.
it’s tommy’s jewellery collection. all of it.
tommy has… so much jewellery, it’s a little absurd. it has to be witchcraft, that eryn has managed to fit it all in this bag - let alone with all his other clothes.
they all laugh a little bit more.
searching through his rediculous pile of clothes, he picks out a few things that he’s almost certain will fit his friends.
“these should do.” he claims as he sets them into a different pile. there’s much more than necessary, but tommy… he thinks they’ll like the choice. like, maybe purpled won’t like a ruffled collar, or maybe eryn will want the black short-cloak, and not the bright red one.
they thank him, and pick things out, before scattering to get themselves dressed.
tommy leaves himself seated on the floor, staring at the gradually waning light of the sun out the window.
it truly is gorgeous here.
before he knows it, eryn and purpled are back and they’re finishing their little dress-up: fixing their hair, straightening collars and picking out some jewellery for tommy.
“but this one’s super pretty!” eryn argues. purpled huffs.
“this one is purple, it matches his outfit and complements his hair. and eyes. and wings.”
tommy smiles softly as they bicker lightly over what rings, hair clips, and other various jewels to dress him in.
after a little while, they settle on some ruby rings and a small, glass-blown flower hair clip. it’s streaked with light pinks, blues and purples and it is the most feminine item he has.
it’s because it was part of a set his mother had. he inherited - well, more like she secretly handed them to him - them before she passed.
they were her favourite accessories; the full set was a hair clip, a ring, a broach and a necklace, all with the same style of glass flower.
tommy pulls the rest of the matching set out, carefully cradling them in his hands. his face must turn down slightly, because purpled and eryn stop their back-and-fourth chatter and look at him.
“they were my mother’s,” he supplies, looking at them. an inkling of an idea starts to form in his mind.
“oh,” eryn breathes, and tommy can tell they’re starting to feel guilty. he picks his head up and looks at eryn, then at purpled.
he glances at the set in his hand once more, before back up at them.
hesitantly, he takes the ring in one hand and reaches it out in eryn’s direction.
an offer.
he looks confused, before a clarity befalls him and he looks stunned.
“the-tommy, are - are you sure?” he says gently as he takes the piece from tommy’s hand. he nods silently as he then takes the necklace in his hand and offers it to purpled. he too, in a shocked silence, takes the item and holds it as though it would shatter if he made one wrong move.
words fail him in that moment, so all he can offer is a small smile and eyes so full of emotion that even he can’t even decipher them all.
their little moment is interrupted by a knock on the door, leaving eryn to shove the ring onto his pointer finger (a perfect fit-) and for purpled to toss the necklace over his head and tuck it under his shirt.
tommy smiles, before walking to the door and opening it before eryn or purpled can. it’s rae, and she’s smiling brightly at him.
“hey! i’ve just been sent to collect you for dinner, i see you’re all ready!” she comments, looking at purpled and eryn as tommy tugs the door open wider. she steps to the side to allow them to exit, and they do, walking behind her as she chats idly with them on their way.
they’ve made it to the gravel pathway around the centre-fountain when tommy stops dead in his tracks, staring down.
he can feel his cheeks heat up again.
“it - tommy? tommy, what’s wrong?” eryn worries, stopping when he realises tommy has. purpled and rae halt as well, watching him.
“i - did i say something? are you feeling okay? please don’t be dying, that would like, really suck-” rae rambles, stopping when purpled makes an amused ‘ohhh’ sound, and snickers slightly.
“what? what is it? what am i not getting?” rae frantically continues, sounding less worried now.
tommy curls his toes, wincing at the gravel that gets stuck against his skin.
“i still don’t have any shoes. or socks.” he admits.
she looks down, then up at his face, before cackling.
it isn’t mean, but it’s abrupt, and it’s a loud thing. it… it’s funny, her laugh. she snorts slightly, before containing herself.
“i- i’m sorry, i’m sorry-“ she stammers, humour still evident in her voice. tommy doesn’t tense, as he suspected he would, and finds he doesn’t much mind her laugh.
“uh, ‘s fine. really. i just… it’s not very… proper.” he manages, clasping his hands together infront of him and looking away.
“it’s fine, it isn’t really a formal dinner. more like a family dinner!” she tries to assure, but that doesn’t really do anything to soothe tommy’s nerves. family dinners are formal, though.
nevertheless, he merely nods and tries to put up a relaxed facade and continues trailing after rae when they get moving again.
by the time they reach the stone steps of the building the dining hall is in, tommy has managed to walk off all the remaining bits of gravel, and no longer has any digging into his feet.
they’re lead up some stairs once they’re inside, and are brought to a beautiful hall.
the support beams are literal trees, blossoms and leaves reaching all the way to the ceiling overhead of the table. there are bushels of flowers and foliage at their roots, and the lights are hung overhead with gorgeous blue glows.
how are the candles blue?
the opposite wall to their entrance was also entirely glass, giving them another stunning view of the mountains and the stars in the sky.
it is breathtaking, and tommy is admiring the hall greatly as they’re lead to their seats.
for a few seconds, it seems like he’s going to be stuck next to eryn and sir corpse, but after spotting purpled hovering behind tommy’s seat, sir corpse makes a face tommy doesn’t quite get, and moves himself to the other side of the table, allowing a grateful purpled to sit on tommy’s other side.
tommy fiddles with his hands in his lap, looking down and trying to stay quiet, invisible, because family dinners usually mean snide remarks coming his way, disapproval and critiques on anything and everything he does. he doesn’t think he can handle that, especially from people he’s hardly acquainted with, so he lets eryn and purpled do the talking.
he’s zoned out - like, super zoned out, more than usual - when,
“tommy!” his head snaps up and he looks at purpled, who has this strange, urgent frown on his face.
purpled swallows.
“uh, king karl was asking for you.” he explains, slightly sheepish. tommy nods, and turns to the king, an apology instinctively spilling from his lips.
“s-sorry, your royal highness, i-“
the king cuts him off.
“please don’t apologise, theseus. it’s really no worry at all.” he sounds so earnest, tommy can’t help but believe him.
he doesn’t really know what to say though, so he settles on nodding.
“also, you can drop the silly titles here,”
“what?”
what? even among friends and no one else, formalities must be kept. it’s the rules, they’re the rules. if he drops them, he’ll be torn apart by the court.
“we - you maintain formalities with family and friends?” the king asks.
tommy glances around, only just noticing that people are only around as dressed up as him, which strikes him as odd, because he isn’t dressed up at all.
he’s in shorts.
“we - you always have to use formalities, no matter where. the public or the council might see or hear you, and they could-“
king karl looks a little downtrodden when he starts to speak, and almost crushed by the time he speaks up again to ask another question.
“you - what? the council? what’re you talking about? do they truly care?”
tommy looks down at the place infront of him.
“the court deals with external affairs, like trade and construction and such,” he starts. “the council deal with internal palace affairs, like servants, and the upkeep of royal and courtly behavior. we loose respect, face and honour of we don’t always abide by the code.” he explains, glancing up at the king.
he can tell everyone is looking at him peculiarly.
“the code?”
tommy frowns when the king echoes his words.
“you- you don’t have the code?” he asks, suddenly very unsure.
“we used to, years and years ago. all the kingdoms abolished it, we assumed the antarctic empire had too.”
there is silence in the hall, and tommy feels an overwhelming rush of embarrassment. he feels very silly, now, with all these confused eyes on him, and processing the king’s words.
“oh.” is all he can manage, and they must pick up on his internal struggle because they carefully shift the conversation. they’re talking about internal affairs now, which tommy - a former prince of another empire - should probably not be privy to, and yet he is present for anyways.
the topics are swiftly made more lax and light-hearted when the food arrives. to tommy’s pleasant surprise, it is charlie who brings him his food. once again, a stark difference to the food everyone else has, tommy has a plain meal of pasta with pesto sauce. looking briefly over, purpled and eryn are given the same.
a quiet part of tommy really hopes that they like this dish too, because it is one of his favourites.
they all eat their food with amicable chatter, and occasionally they will ask tommy for his input, which he will give on their request.
they’ve near finished their food when the dreaded topic gets picked up.
“so, theseus,” king karl starts. “we will need to sort out what’s happening with your residence and what’s going on in your home,” he continues, giving him a rather soft look.
“poki and george filled me in on everything that happened, and i’ve already looked at the amended treaty. you have excellent penmanship, theseus.” he praises briefly, surprising tommy. he blushes, and mumbles a small thanks, before the king speaks once more, smiling.
“wether you’ll be able to return to your home to rule or reclaim your princely title is yet to be decided, and you do have an input on that decision, theseus, don’t forget that.” karl reminds him firmly, but tommy hasn’t thought about that much. he’s honestly pretty clueless as to how, well, his life’s going to pan out, at this point in time.
“you have many options, you don’t even have to return to the antarctic empire, if you don’t want.” he adds, and the sudden idea of choosing not to go back to his former home is alien to him, but…
tommy doesn’t really feel opposed.
“for now, until all of that is sorted, we must figure out what do do with you now.” that sounds a lot less reassuring, and tommy’s grip on his cutlery tightens until his knuckles are a stark lily-white.
“you can stay here, if you wish, and we can arrange more personal and permanent accommodations for you, charlie, purpled and eryn, or you can go off to another kingdom if that suits you more.”
with the king’s clarification, he feels a little better. still, he isn’t used to choice-without-an-obvious-right-answer , so he still struggles a little bit to wrap his head around it.
“i know that quackity is keen to take you in, if not only to show you around las nevadas,” king karl adds, something in his voice revealing a fondness. “i’m sure eret and niki would also love to have you.”
tommy feels a little overwhelmed by all the choice, so he just nods in place of giving a verbal response.
“either way, i’m sure we’re bound to get messangers from all the other kingdoms,” the king finishes, earning a few groans from the people at the table.
“come on,” george tries to scold the people at the table, “we need to maintain our composure about that. messengers aren’t that bad,” it doesn’t really work. he sounds equally as irritated as everyone else.
that confuses tommy slightly.
what’s so bad about messengers?
tommy takes back anything he’s ever said in defence of messangers ever. in the two weeks he’s been in kinoko, there have been so, so many messengers, and he is exhausted.
he is exhausted because each one that came requested to see him personally, on demand of whatever royal from whatever empire or kingdom they came from.
tommy has no fucking clue how he managed to do this before, because he is absolutely drained.
they’ve set up a temporary seat for him in the throneroom, that’s how much his presence has been asked for. there was at least a messenger every single day, so he was more often than not in there.
he’s become much more lax in those two weeks, learning to be more unafraid and relaxed around everyone who talks with him, especially karl, george and dream - any of the ladies, lords or royals of kinoko, really.
they’re all super duper nice.
he’s in the throneroom with karl, george, purpled and dream just waiting for a messanger to pop up. charlie is messing around with the other kitchen staff because he’s made some more friends and eryn is - he doesn’t fucking know, frolicking around in some field or something. eryn was having the time of his life exploring the castle grounds, though.
karl was making some sort of quirky joke when the doors at the end of the hall burst open, and rae came dashing in, blade out and panting.
“intruders, intruders in the castle grounds! intruders!” she’d hollered, running down the carpet. as she got closer, tommy could see that blood caked her face and dropped from her blade.
if tommy was half asleep before, he’s fully awake now. sitting up ramrod straight, he listens intently to what rae is yelling.
“they’re everywhere, they broke through the gate, there’s hundreds of them-“
she reaches the steps to the thrones themselves, eyes blown wide. the king cuts her off, a commanding tone that tommy is very much unaccustomed to from him, but familiar with from his father.
“who, rae? who’s here?”
before the knight gets to answer him, the thrumming of hooves overtakes them, and they all look up to the - no less than - dozen horses that come galloping into the hall, rae turning around to face them as well.
tommy grips the arm of the chair he is on, going pale when he recognises the man on the horse that’s leading the charge.
“return prince theseus to us. now.” he growls, and tommy has never hated technoblade more than he does in this moment.
“i’m sorry?” the king gawks, a more outraged form of confusion seething in his voice.
“return prince theseus. he is coming home,” techno repeats, irritation boiling in his words.
the king looks pissed, as does prince george.
karl’s lip quirks, and tommy has never even fathomed that he could get as angry as he is right now.
“you invade the royal hall - the palace - with an attitude far above your deserved respect, and demand things of us?” he stands, descending the stairs to stand before techno’s horse, eyes blazing.
“exactly who do you think you are?” he demands, as george stands in his place and dream steps forwards from his position to stand behind him.
tommy stays still, frozen.
i don’t want to go back.
“technoblade, head guard of the antarctic empire’s elite legion, prince theseus is ours and we are demanding his return.” techno declares, staring down at karl from his horse, a spitfire fury detectable under the surface of his words.
“you talk to us like he’s some object,” george interrupts, all enemy eyes snapping to him. they are, he thinks dejectedly.
his ache dies down swiftly, though, as his unadulterated rage - the one he felt when he made his stand at the third dinner of the annual ceremony - begins to build within him once more, desperate to be released.
“he belongs to the antarctic empire,” technoblade tries, but karl cuts him off.
“people belong to no one and nothing, least of all tommy to you.” a part of tommy preens every time the people he’s more trusting of use his nickname - his name. it’s his name now.
that isn’t different in this scenario, and his wings fluff up in approval he can’t subdue when he hears the protective words.
flock?
not the time!
“prince theseus is the crown prince, he has responsibilities he cannot simply run away from.” technoblade snaps, fists clenching too tightly on his reigns.
this is where tommy scoffs, trying to relax his body and emanate a power he doesn’t really have.
“maybe phil should have thought about that before exiling me.” he states, resting his head against his propped-up hand, wings flexing behind him slightly. he looks at techno, unblinking and unwavering.
“he did not mean-“ techno tries, but tommy cuts him off.
“maybe,” the word is harsh and venomous, and techno stops on his tracks. tommy continues with a victorious sneer. “he should have thought about that before finding my replacement, hm?”
techno’s eyes darken further, and he frowns. from the back of the herd, two horsemen pull forward, desperately calling out to him.
tommy bristles.
“tommy, please . just come home, this is enough.” tubbo begs, eyes doing that stupid sad thing, which tommy can’t help but find pathetic now. ranboo mirrors the look.
“we miss you.” ranboo tacks on.
tommy can merely stare at them, outraged and incredulous.
“and you didn’t miss me whilst you were serving wilbur?” they flinch. tommy feigns innocence. “i mean, you two seemed perfectly fine to belittle me then. why the change?”
technoblade, realising this will get them nowhere, sighs, and speaks up once more.
“alright, plan b.” he whistles - loudly - before resting his grave expression on tommy once more. “i didn’t want to have to do this, theseus, but you leave me no choice.”
having been summoned, a squadron of foot-soldiers enter the hall, the horsemen parting to allow them to drag someone across the carpet, with clear struggle to keep them in their grasps.
“you and your ugly fuckin’ mug can piss right off, you absolute bloody wanker!” they spit, and tommy is filled with dread when he puts the dots together and-
eryn looks at him, startled into a more subdued silence, and tommy stares wide-eyed right back. techno snaps his fingers, and the man restraining eryn holds him up with a blade at his throat.
“come back with us, or we’ll butcher him right here and now.”
a desperation floods him, and he scans the gathered people. his cold-set ire returns when he sees the disappointed looks on tubbo and ranboo - as though they think they are righteous here, that he is forcing their hand.
his expression darkens in a way it never has before, and he can sense it when eryn, karl, george, purpled, rae and dream all get antsy, waiting for his outburst.
he has his mini-sword on him. he is not helpless.
“this is your solution?” he remarks, sounding wholly unimpressed. techno looks slightly taken aback, uneasy almost.
“what’s stopping me from running again, hmm? i can leap out a window , fly away.” he deadpans, smirk growing when he sees the horses getting antsy.
he is still sat down.
“this right now - what you’ve done, what you’ve stupidly done - you know this is a declaration of war, right?” he continues, watching the tensions grow with complete disregard. he’s good at quelling his thoughts, but the antarctic empire has fucked him over one too many times.
they deserve his resentment.
“if you declare war on kinoko, you’re at war with las nevadas. isn’t the antarctic empire already at war with itself, too? your emperor did pick a fight with it’s crown prince,”
“former,” techno grits, trying to level tommy’s cool stare. he grins.
“former? make up your mind, techno. do you want me or not?” he taunts, standing up at last. his wings are puffed up slightly, as he tries to make himself look larger than he actually is.
some of the horses take unsteady, unwanted steps back.
“tell me this- why do you think i’ll help?” he leaves no time for techno to give his ludicrous opinion, and talks right over his attempted words. “you might bring me back, sure, but you threatened to murder my friend. you attacked a royal palace. why would i help you?”
he leaves a silence for a response that he never gets. he hums, condescending.
“thought so . do us all a favour, alright? leave. don’t come back. never ask for me back, and think about what you’ve done. like, actually think.” he laughs quietly to himself. “maybe you can pull your head out of your arse and realise that - what’s happening? pretty fucked, and not my fault. don’t - don’t try to convince me it is.” he adds, knowing that there would certainly be an attempt otherwise.
there is quiet in the hall.
then,
“kill him. then we leave.”
technoblade makes the command, and tommy can feel all his confidence sapped in just those words as his eyes widen. the man restraining eryn goes to slit his throat, but they’re all halted by another voice.
“you move a muscle - an inch - and i let it loose.”
all heads snap to a man on a horse that has strayed from the pack, a bow and arrow pulled, ready to fire in his hands.
he is aiming for technoblade, and once tommy recognises who it is, he has no doubts that they will not miss.
“soldier, what do you-“
in the moments of distraction they caused, eryn rips himself free and elbows his restrainer in the gut before making a dash for it, leaping behind rae for safety before anyone can do anything about it.
the horses try to surge forward, their riders attempting to snatch eryn back, but a horse that gets too close gets their chest slashed by rae’s sword and the rider nearly gets bucked off.
“that’s billzo to you, you right prat.” the arrow-weirder snarls, guiding his horse to the side of the hall where the kinoko residence stand.
tommy beams.
billzo had been - it’s an unpleasant title, he knows - tommy’s personal manservant, constantly restricted from rising the ranks because of his foul tongue. he always made tommy silently laugh to himself, with all his snide remarks he thought no one heard - so tommy kept him around.
a part of him flutters to think that billzo liked him as well, enough to defect for him.
“leave, now, and maybe i’ll consider not declaring war.” king karl intervenes, speaking up again.
the antarctic soldiers all look at one another, waiting for command.
techno stares daggers into tommy’s very soul.
then, wordlessly, he turns and leaves on his horse, the others following suit.
“dream,” karl instructs, “gather the closest knights you can and make sure they leave.”
the knight nods, before sprinting off.
with the imminent threat gone, tommy allows his anger to drain, and is at last beginning to have his anxiety and panic catch up to him. he lets himself flop back into his seat, looking only to the side and gathering his breath as best he can.
the air he sucks in is in short, harsh bursts. he’s going to start hyperventilating.
eryn dashes for him and purpled at the thrones, a small smear of red on his throat.
“what the fuck just happened?” he asks in a loud whisper, casting a side-glance to the kinoko royals who are discussing in grave tones.
“beats me,” purpled quips, and tommy manages his temples, straining to put everything in some sort of order in his mind.
“i’ll kill them, i swear i might.” he mutters, trying to push the mental image of his former best friends from his mind.
they’re interrupted by billzo, who gets down from the horse tommy’s sure he stole and let’s his weapon clatter to the floor.
“theseus!” he calls, striding over to them.
he towers over both purpled and eryn. he’s certain to tower over tommy, too.
“billzo,” he answers in turn, still trying to process what emotion he’s meant to be feeling towards his former manservant.
“oh, boy, the empire’s a right mess. you’re lucky you got out when you did!” he exclaims, huffing and puffing somewhat theatrically.
tommy’s lip quirks sardonically, as he mutters to himself: “it’s a right mess because i got out when i did.”
clearly, it isn’t quiet enough, because everyone gives him a look mixed with amusement, pride and acceptance.
a weird blend that tommy isn’t going to bother analysing, so he sighs and merely looks off to the side, trying to put pieces together in his head.
does father want me dead or under his thumb? or was this all against his will?
“lots of people are having an absolute riot, like- literally. people are hating the king, things have got shockingly worse.” billzo carries on, animatedly gesticulating with his hands as he speaks. tommy narrows his eyes, contemplative. “it’s happening at an alarming rate, too. i’m 88% certain that schlatt and fundy are staging a coup.”
it’s purpled’s turn to vocalise his hesitancy. “what about the other twelve percent?” he pushes, in a way tommy can tell is meant to be a joke.
“it’s for the coup jack is planning.”
tommy gets momentary whiplash, but eryn beats him to the words.
“jack? like, jack jack? the head chef, jack manifold?” his voice is incredulous.
billzo nods fervently, “oh yeah.” he says the words as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
eryn and purpled look as though they’re inclined to believe him, but tommy hasn’t really spoken to jack in the recent years, so he doesn’t have as clear of a resolve on this nugget of information.
“well, add ‘war with kinoko and las nevadas’ to the list of the emperor’s problems,” eryn tries, earning a snort from billzo and an eyeroll from purpled.
tommy stays as he is, still and silent, painfully aware of the tautness of his wings and his muscles.
“tommy, purpled, eryn - uh,” george addresses them, hesitating when he gets to billzo.
“billzo, but you can call me bill.” he introduces himself. george nods.
“and bill, you should all head over to your rooms. bill, someone will help you prep a spare room. i’d do it myself, but, uh,”
“there are more important things to be tending to,” bill finishes, nodding at george’s sheepish smile. “i get it, don’t worry man.” he sounds far too relaxed for someone who just defected during an active declaration of war and scene of attempted murder.
billzo’s always been a funny one,
purpled gently coaxes him to his feet, and tommy begrudgingly walks with his little gaggle of friends (plus billzo) to their room in the rest-house, watching with unease as soldiers run to-and-fro, shouting orders at eachother.
tommy is indefinitely relieved to make it back into the building they’re staying in, and tommy makes a beeline for his and purpled’s shared room. eryn and charlie ended up sharing, because they both wanted the room nearest the communal cooking area.
tommy doesn’t mind rooming with purpled, he actually feels much safer. having his bodyguard within shouting distance was a comfort, especially since he is a very light sleeper. all tommy would need to do is mutter the word ‘help’ and purpled would be stabbing shit.
tommy knows, he’s been the target of assassination attempts all of three times, two of which purpled stopped, one of which was unintentional, but still-
that was two times more than ranboo ever did.
“tommy?” he turns to look at his friend, who has his necklace sitting proudly outside his clothes, for all to see.
tommy takes his clip from his hair, laying it gently on his bedside table.
“do… do you not think we should go to las nevadas?” he asks cautiously. tommy pauses, pondering. does purpled want to go?”
“i- maybe? why?” he’s gotten much better at vocalising his confusions and queries.
“well, quackity…” he starts, before swallowing and listing much more tactical advantages. “we’d be further from the empire, in their capital, that is, there’s better protection, and-“ he stops, clearly struggling with the words he’s trying to say.
tommy frowns, unsure as to why purpled would hesitate to say anything around him.
“is… you want to. is there something specific that makes you want to?” he concludes, voice genital. he’s gotten better at that, reading purpled and eryn and charlie. he’s more familiar with their tells, now, because he can focus on them more and not wether or wether not they’ll get him in trouble.
“i am… familiar with his lordship, sapnap. we- uh, trained together. when i was very young, for a few years.”
tommy’s a little shocked, but it isn’t bad. purpled must think he’s upset, becaus he sort of angles his body away, but tommy is beaming and purpled must realise he isn’t angry when his eyes flit back to tommy after a few moments.
“that - that’s awesome, purpled! of course we can go! i - i’m pretty sure eryn, charlie and bill won’t mind - i - you don’t have to go with us, though, if you don’t want,” he tacks on as an afterthought. it’s something that’s been bothering him for a bit.
they don’t owe him service now, they have every right to leave him. especially with all the problems he’s causing.
purpled’s face shifts from happy, to outraged and upset. “what do you mean?” he demands, a small fit of open hurt that tommy is unprepared for.
“i - i just mean that, you - you don’t have to stick with us - me - if you don’t want, you can go off on your ow-“ tommy cannot finish speaking - well, rambling, he’s sort of losing himself - because purpled throws his body at tommy, and wraps him in an all-encompassing hug.
tommy doesn’t breathe for a few moments, absorbing purpled’s words as his wings twitch and he soaks into the other’s affection.
“i want to stay with you, okay? i don’t work for you but you are my friend and i want to stay with you. got it?”
tommy doesn’t say anything, instead leaning into purpled, who gently pets the base of one of his wings.
“got it?” he repeats. tommy hums, a trill building in the back of his throat as he tucks his head into the crook of purpled’s neck.
“tommy,” he says so, so softly, and tommy doesn’t think he wants a reply - that he’s just commenting it, like an admiration. tommy let’s out his small trill, as well as a couple other content bird-like noises that make purpled smile.
tommy likes to see his friends smile. it makes him all warm and fuzzy and he knows he’s done something right.
in the past two weeks he’s done more things right in his entire life, according to his father’s standards and the council.
he’s more than happy to just stand here with purpled, chirping softly as he cards his hand through his feathers.
he knows why, logically he does, but a deeper part of him doesn't know how he managed to live without this before.
“we’ll tell the others, then ask karl?” he manages to mumble, in between happy little sighs and cheeps. purpled smiles softly, replying with a warm ‘of course’ as they start to seperate.
tommy stands a little awkwardly, wings halfway to being limp and relaxed. he pulls them back to his shoulders and gives purpled an earnest look.
“thank you.” he says simply. he’s not 100% sure that purpled knows what he’s being thanked for, but he merely nods and says ‘your welcome’ in return.
karl seems sad to be sending them off, another two weeks later, but he had not objected.
“i said you could go anywhere you wanted,” tommy looks owlishly at the softly smiling king. “if you want to go to las nevadas, i’ll help you get there.”
dukes sykkuno and corpse are helping them pack their things, saddling the horses and thanking the assistants as they run to and fro, helping them.
“why do you want to come with us?” eryn asks the dukes, exiting one of their carriages after stowing some luggage. they give eachother a look, smiling.
“we have a friend in las nevadas,” sykkuno says, glancing up at the clouds. corpse nods.
“we haven't seen him in quite some time.” corpse adds, and tommy has to almost force himself to still not be shocked at the deepness of his voice. it has startled him every time he’s spoken to corpse, and he’s been attending the events the antarctic empire had been hosting for years.
tommy hums as an assistant - the final one - jogs up to them, smiling and bidding them on their way, before dashing off to complete whatever other duties they had.
tommy hoists himself into one of the carriages, corpse, sykkuno and charlie following suit. eryn, bill and purpled take the other, and before they know it, they are on their way.
“so,” sykkuno starts, voice pleasant and tone amicable. he’s always very soft-spoken, never once raised his voice, supposedly. incapable of anger, they say. “what’re you most looking forward to in las nevadas?” he asks.
tommy is stumped. looking forward to? is he meant to be looking forward to something?
tommy throws a hapless look to charlie, who understands his conundrum and answers first.
“fresh citris fruits.” he says without hesitation. sykkuno chokes on a laugh, sort of - it’s an ‘uh’ that’s a little shocked and kind of strangled. corpse wheezes.
“what? why?” he remarks, voice airy with laughter. charlie does - and tommy can only describe it like this - some sort of smoulder, completely serious.
“they don’t grow in the antarctic empire. do you know how bad the imports we get are? they’ve harvested fresh then travel for days.” he explains, all too invested in the quality of lemons and limes and oranges. “they are awful to cook with.” he finishes.
tommy smiles at his declaration, and sykkuno and corpse laugh, though not at him. more so at the absurdity of it all.
charlie, in good humor, raises his voice- “do you know how hard it is to cook with rocks?” he demands, and they all give him a funny look, before he throws his arms up and proclaims: “impossible! and they’re giving me sour rocks, tommy, rocks! i can never use them!”
that sends tommy into a stomach-hurting fit of laughter, accompanied by sykkuno’s snickering and corpse’s wheezing. charlie, all the while, is continuing his vehement rant.
“i’ve always wanted to make some citrine desserts - lemon meringue, lemon tart, but no- no! i can’t even make savoury dishes!” tommy’s wings flare with the laughter, bushing up and moving with him as he doubles over to clutch at his stomach.
“i can’t season the fish, i can’t add acidic flavours, it’s miserable! i can’t even make lemonade!” with that, his hollering seems to be over, and they are left to put themselves back together and stop their giggling as the carriage rattles along its path, to the sound of the clip-clop, clip-clop of hooves.
“an- and you, tommy?” sykkuno asks, still gathering air after his fit of unexpected laughter.
tommy’s mind blanks, so he blurts the first thing that comes to his mind:
“learning to fly.”
why did i say that?
sykkuno’s eyes spark, and corpse looks at him with a joyous surprise. then, they glaze over with a realisation that brings an even bigger smile to his face.
“did his liege quackity ever tell you he knows only one other avian - asides from you?” he starts, and tommy watches as sykkuno gives him a perplexed look, before having the same realisation dawn apon him and smiling brightly.
tommy blinks, trying to think back.
“he may have mentioned it? i’m not sure,” he replies honestly. corpse’s expression doesn’t falter, and he carries on.
“well, it’s one of his lieutenants. his name is jack.” sykkuno nods eagerly. “lieutenant jacksepticye, his title.” he tacs on to what corpse just mentioned.
“the friend we’re planning on visiting, actually.” corpse adds once more, and tommy’s confusion is lifted, in place of a lighter and more please look. if they’re friends with corpse and sykkuno, he’s bound to be nice.
“will-“ he starts, before slamming his jaw shut. no speaking out of turn, dammit! he scolds himself. corse and sykkuno look at him expectantly, urging him to continue, so he does - with a great deal more hesitancy, though.
“do you think… he’d help me learn to fly?”
their answers are immediate; affirmations, joyous affirmations, and his head soars.
he wants to fly. at first, he didn’t see the appeal, but now- thinking harder, more about what it would actually be like - he really wants to fly. to soar, to reach the skies and glide through clouds.
it’s a silly little thought, but he thinks that maybe it can be his metaphor. his literal fulfilment of being the trapped bird, free to soar the skies once it’s released from it’s cage.
maybe it can be an analogy , not a metaphor. freed like a once-caged bird.
he wants to be free.
“do you know what’s also gonna be nice?” charlie fills the small silence, a crazed sort of enthusiasm in his tone. tommy knows he’s going to say something completely out of left field.
“i’m almost scared to ask,” corpse says in place of a prompt to continue. charlie smiles just a little too wide and answers anyways.
“fresh berries.” he says with so, so much conviction.
they all burst into laughter once more, as charlie sputters and acclaims his protests, his defiance-
“i’ve never seen a raspberry before! a raspberry! what colour is it? what’s the flavour? is it the same shape as a blueberry or a strawberry?” he cries “ what is a banana?”
they laugh the whole way through.
las nevadas isn’t what he’s expecting, at all. he’s heard about it, of course, but it’s so different to be there in person. they pass through a desert - a desert - before they reach the more foliage-filled lands nearer the capital.
he expects they’re going to head towards the town, away from the green-capped mountain, but instead they turn to travel up it.
sykkuno looks gleeful.
“we’re close! soon, we’ll have to get out and hike the last mile or so,” he chatters absently, looking at the increasingly thick patches of shrubbery and trees.
it isn’t long before that time comes, and they hop out of their carriages. the drivers help them unload their things, and with the additional four-person assistance, they carry their things the rest of the way.
there are parts that are much harder to climb, but for the most part, it’s a narrow - two people side-by-side, at most - well-worn path, leading to-
stone doors carved into the mountain.
it… isn’t what he’s expecting, but two guards open the doors and bid them a good day, helping them lug their things into… the one small room behind the doors… and the drivers then totter off, back to their carriages.
then the guards smile, wave them goodbye, and shut the doors.
leaving them in complete darkness.
he shifts uncomfortably, wings fluffing out.
“so… nice place, huh?” bill says, breaking the silence after it settles over them for about half a minute.
tommy finds himself giggling up a storm with sykkuno for the countless-th time that day.
they’re laughing - all of them, the joy is contagious - when they’re startled into screaming instead, because it feels like the floor drops from beneath their feet, and the room they’re in starts to plummet.
in complete darkness, might he add.
they’re hollering, crying and screeching when-
it stops; the room stills and a door behind them, opposite the ones they came in, opens, and before them is a dark, black slated throneroom.
tommy wants to take in its beauty, but before them is the supreme ruler of las nevadas and his right-hand, his prince, sapnap.
quackity looks gleeful.
“prince theseus! sykkuno, corpse, so wonderful to have you!” he cheers, greeting them with a sweeping gesture. their little rag-tag group start to scramble over eachother with their words, complaining and voicing their concerns, all the while quackity laughs at them.
in that time, as he stays silent, tommy notices another prominent figure, standing by the domed glass that makes up the wall on the face of the mountain; the royal palace must be inside the mountain itself. genius.
the person has brown hair, though it looks a little dyed at the front; green, he thinks? either way, the man has a great pair of wings on his back- large, well-groomed and a stunning shade of tawny brown, emerald feathers lining the tips of his wings.
he holds himself with such confidence; tommy can tell it from all the way on the other side of the throneroom.
“come, let me bring you upstairs!” he announces, and tommy can feel the people at his sides go still.
“in that thing? again? no thanks. i’ll take an L on this one.” bill declares, all in good humour. his lordship sapnap laughs at him, before assuring:
“the lift is only to get into the base, and out of it. we take the stairs everywhere else. don’t worry.” they all let out a collective sigh of relief, before following the two monarchs to the other end of the room.
“jack!” sykkuno calls out, as the person with the wings turns and hugs him. he then moves to the other duke and hugs him as well, beaming the whole way through.
“sykkuno! corpse! it’s been so long!” he cheers, as the rest of them stop to watch them say hello.
“too long, jack, too long.” corpse corrects. the avian chuckles, before looking at tommy and his little gaggle of runaways.
“so you’re the avian prince?” he asks him after assessing them all with his eyes. he is hit with a sudden bout of nervousness, so merely nods in a rather meek manner.
i’m really no prince, he thinks quietly.
jack smiles a little softer.
“i’m jack, nice to meet you.” he introduces, holding a hand out. tommy, recalling the proper etiquette, shakes the hand before jack asks him: “who’re the rest of your friends?”
tommy turns to his associates, and they all watch him expectantly. he realises that they’re waiting for him to introduce them, so he does.
“oh, uh, that’s billzo, he likes to speak his mind. a lot,” he points to the tall brunette who sticks his chin out proudly, “that’s charlie; he’s like, the best chef. ever.” he points at charlie who gives a friendly, animated wave, “that’s eryn. he likes to smack people with pillows.” eryn smiles viciously and nods vigorously as tommy gestures to him. “and this is purpled. he threatens your kneecap privelages.” purpled looks dead serious as he points to him.
he tacks on after a moment’s hesitation, “i wish i could say i don’t know what that means, but i do. so.”
jack looks a mix of sapnap and quackity: who are intrigued and horrified respectively.
“why?” is all the supreme ruler asks, fear edging his voice.
purpled blinked, entirely unbothered. “he threatened tommy. with a knife. and his fists.”
sapnap blinks owlishly at his words. “okay? and?” he tries to prompt, still confused.
“he couldn’t attempt another assassination without kneecaps.” purpled replies, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
sapnap looks as though he wants to question some more, but quackity gets this startlingly somber expression when purpled mentions ‘assassination’, and swiftly directs the conversation away from the topic.
“anyways, let's get you settled in, shall we?” he leaves no room for argument and walks with great vigour to the door to their left, everyone speed-walking to catch up with the long strides.
they follow him up the flight of stairs, through a glossy oak door and up another smaller set of stairs again to a sitting area, overlooking the town below and the vegetation that stretched up the side of the mountain.
he finds himself wandering closer to the glass, near enough to press his face into it to peer out, but he doesn’t do that. he listens as everyone else makes themselves comfortable in the nice little sitte.
“it’s a lovely view, isn’t it?” quackity stands next to him, in mainly silence as the others chat together and catch up. tommy offers a meagre hum, too focused on trying to make out the tiny smudges in his view that were the people.
“you’ll love to fly across these areas.” that gets his attention, and tommy gives quackity a side-eye, masking his apprehension with weariness.
“i can’t fly.” he states bluntly.
quackity grins, meeting his side-gaze with one of his own.
“yet.” is all he says.
“are - are we sure about this?” he asks, looking downwards. the height is much more imposing without the glass barrier to protect him.
“positive! you’ll be fine!” jack assures him, flexing his wings out. “you’ve trained your wings for two months. they’re prepared - you’re ready.” he affirms, with all the confidence in the world. tommy has learned to seek comfort in his confidence, and so feels a little better about his odds.
he knows his friends are waiting in the valley for him, waiting to watch his landing - which he still isn’t 100% sure on how to do - and share the victory with him.
tommy is stronger, now. he has to be, since the antarctic empire declared war on anything and everything. fighting everyone is bad, especially when half your own military forces are a part of that ‘everyone’.
tommy has scarcely managed to escape a royal civil war after starting it. go figure.
“i’ll just… fly?” he asks once more, leaning out to look down. it’s so high, the wind whipping against him isn’t making him feel any better, either.
“course you will! you always have quackity and i to help if anything does go wrong, though,” jack assured him once more. tommy nods, unsure of how he will gather the confidence to jump.
“y’know, traditionally avians used to push their flock off the first time,” he brings up absent-mindedly. the mere idea of that makes his whole body freeze, and he whips around, already attempting to get himself away from jack and the cliff’s edge.
he smiles, rueful and sympathetic. “they didn’t do that to me, though. i had no avian parents.” okay, well, now tommy just feels bad about it. “i’m not doing it to you, either. this is your moment, your flying. you have control over it, not me, not anyone else.”
those words make him feel infinitely better, and he lets them sink in a little.
this is his. he’s got this.
“mine.” he echoes. jack gives him this proud look, nodding at him.
“whenever you’re ready, tommy.” he says kindly, and in that moment tommy is sure jack will wait until he’s old and his bones are creaking just for him.
tommy doesn’t intend to make him wait that long.
he’s learnt a lot since he left the empire, he’s met lots of people, he’s learnt to live some more.
he’s also learnt that fear is paralysing if it gets too great; it’s how he lived indefinitely in the palace before, too frozen with fear to speak out against his father.
collecting himself with one final breath, he walks towards the ledge and does not slow. at the edge, he shuts his eyes and allows himself to walk right off, diving head-first into free fall.
at first, he’s terrified- the wind, the feeling in his gut, the increasing size of the trees below - then the fear goes, and there’s peace.
the wind stops howling so viciously, and everything is serene.
it is a few moments later when his instincts kick into fucking high-gear, and his newly strengthened and just-preened wings snap open, and he isn’t descending anymore.
he’s soaring, flying gracefully over the canopy of trees.
with a couple flaps, he lets out an excited hoot, rotating his body to turn and face the mountain he’d jumped from and angling himself, allowing the wind and his velocity to do most of the work and bring him higher into the air.
he can just about see jack and quackity hollering and clapping for him, before they both take running starts to join him in the air, circling him and cheering his praises.
he’s doing it. he’s flying!
tucking his wings in, tommy lets himself drop a little, seeking out the thrill once more of falling. he extends his wings just in time, gliding across the tips of the trees once more.
how fast can i go?
tommy has also learned that he likes to learn things, to find out something new.
zooming upwards once more, he sets his mind on figuring it out: how fast can he go?
entering the lower layer of the clouds, he flaps his wings and tries his best to gain speed, angling his flight-path down to let gravity help his velocity.
his eyes fill with tears from the constant pressure of the air against them.
glancing to his side, he can see jack swooping beside him, and flipping over once more, he looks back to see quackity struggling to catch up.
his rotation to his back makes him loose altitude, and he begins this odd, slow descent back down, which seems to alarm quackity because tommy isn’t looking away from him, or making any indication that he’s going to slow himself down.
they were right. this is like second nature to me.
he’s fairly certain quackity is screeching profanities at him, but tommy pays it no mind. instead, he fluffs his feathers out, slowing his descent as he flips back over to properly steer himself.
still gliding above the trees, he spots the clearing, and makes a sharp left to try and aim for his landing spot.
his friends catch sight of him when he’s near enough, and they cheer even louder.
tommy is facing a new problem, though: how does he stop?
wing it!
descending under the trees, he circles the clearing as best he can, just above his friends’ head heights, trying to slow down.
“let’s go tommy!”
“that was awesome!”
“come on, tommy!”
“let’s land this!”
he stops flapping his wings, allowing his altitude to get lower and lower as he loses his velocity, until he reaches a point where his core muscles burn with how tight his stomach is coiled, keeping his legs up.
when he deems himself slow enough, he swings his feet forward, infront of his body, and snaps his wings in.
the residue velocity nearly makes his knees buckle, but he manages to stop himself falling face-first into the grass-
only to lose his balance and fall straight on his ass.
“that was amazing!” he hears jack call, as he makes a much more coordinated and graceful landing, followed by quackity who kind of comes in as a hurtling, puffing mess.
“oh - my - fuck,” he huffs, nearly tipping over, putting his hands on his knees and breathing heavily betweeen each word.
“so you’re built for speed,” he manages without gasping. jack cackles beside him.
“there’s two of us now!” he jokes, and quackity glares at him.
“i’ll order your head on a pike,” he hisses, in a way tommy now knows is a joke, sarcastic.
“no you won’t.” he replies smugly. quackity sighs, defeated.
“no, i won’t.” he echoes, looking truly dejected. tommy breathes a laugh, turning to his friends who are sprinting up to him, and tommy gets a little scared when they don’t really slow down.
he has to do a little side-step to avoid eryn’s hurtling form, and he can’t slow himself down before he lands hands-first in the little stream at the edge of the clearing.
tommy makes no efforts to hide his laughter.
with a vengeance, eryn rises to his feet as they all giggle at him, grabs the nearest person, and body-slams the both of them back into the stream.
watching eryn toss himself and one of the lieutenants of las nevadas into a stream is not among anything he ever fathomed he’d see, but he is.
with alarm, he realises that oh, this is the game now, and has to take several steps back to avoid the wet hands of both drenched people, who instead manage to grab bill and charlie, and before he knows it there are four soaked people, and he and purpled are on their own.
and quackity, of course, but his build of wings let him simply flap once, twice, thrice and into the air, perching on a high tree branch for safety.
“tommy,” purpled remarks, body in a defensive position. he’s serious, but tommy can tell it’s a thin mask; they’re playing around, this is fun.
“run,” he commands, and tommy, content in staying dry, turns tail and bolts.
he can hear purpled’s cries of despair as he is presumably shoved into the river, though it doesn’t sound like he went down easy: he gets in a solid thirty-second head start.
he’s slightly breathless from laughter, but he knows he need only get to a ledge he can launch from, so he can take refuge in the skies. quackity isn’t after him, and with wet wings jack won’t be able to fly nearly as fast as he can.
the sounds of pounding footsteps make him run just a little bit faster.
he’s hoping to lose them in the trees, weaving to and fro, taking turns and twists as best he can. his wings, however much he loves them, hinder him as he has to twist his body to prevent them from grazing any branches, even as they are tucked to his back.
the footsteps are more distant now, and tommy can see a small valley in the mountain that he can use to get air and fly, and so turns his path towards it. his desired take-off site is narrow, but he knows he can make it.
he’s close, so close, in fact, he’s flexing his wings in anticipation, already thinking about how he’ll taunt his friends from the sky.
the ledge is there, right infront of him, he’s a second from leaping off it, when-
thwack!
someone slams into his side and tackles him into a bush, their combined weight and speed pushing them over the ledge and they tumble down the sides - the painful way.
he whacks every boulder possible on his way down, landing painfully on his half-folded wings with a crushing weight on top of him.
“what the-“ he starts to snarl, only to be forcefully smothered by a hand, pressure against his face painful. glaring, he looks up to the face of his attacker.
the sun distorts their face, shadows making it hard, but he makes it out.
staring down at him is wilbur.
“you’re going to be quiet, and you’re going to come with me, or i will pinion you on the spot.”
he thrashes his body, attempting to get some sort of leverage on his father’s replacement son.
“you’ll fucking what?” he snaps when he gains himself a moment of freedom from his hand.
wilbur uses his hand to shove his head into the rocks below, so that tommy has to stare at him with one eye, the other being grated by the rocks.
“pinion? oh, you won’t want to know what that is, little bird.” he growls, voice hushed. he goes silent, looking up a second, before leaning in and whispering in his ear-
“it means i’m going to carve the muscles from your wings, and leave them there. you’ll never fly again, little bird.” he sneers, before his head snaps up once more when something crunches overhead.
“come on, tommy! flying is no fair! come down!” eryn calls, to the additional shouts from all his other friends.
“it’s only fair, tommy!” jack hollers.
“let us congratulate you, tommy!” charlie beckons.
“the water’s nice, tommy!” billzo taunts.
if he can cry, if he can make some sort of noise-
“not a cheep, little chick.” wilbur hisses, grip getting even harder.
the fear gripping at him like wilbur does his jaws is almost paralysing, keeping him still, movement only of his chest as he breathes sharply. but an even bigger fear, one that makes itself more substantial, as wilbur somehow ties his wrists hardly with rope, starts to fill his mind.
he’s yanked by the jaw, still firmly shut, as wilbur begins to tie him up further.
that is when the true terror settles in him:
wilbur wants to bring him back.
he knows, deep down, that there are other reasons as to why wilbur might want him, but it is the idea that sets root in his mind and blinds him completely and utterly.
he does the only thing that he can think of in his moments of sheer panic - he snaps his jaws relentlessly until they meet flesh, and begins to cry out when wilbur retracts his hand in a flinch.
“down the valley! help! down he-“
he’s screaming as loud as he can, when wilbur takes his hand once more and uses it to grab his head and smash it against the rocks, making him see stars - dazing him.
he can still feel wilbur’s weight on top of him, he knows he’s doing something, but the explosion of pain in his skull is entirely inhibiting, and he just can’t.
distantly, he’s aware of another great pain - in his body or mind, he isn’t sure - but before too long the weight is gone and the fuzzy figure that is wilbur gets violently torn from his vision, and a much… safer one takes it’s place.
“tommy! tommy, can you hear me?” whose voice is that? is it eryn’s or bill’s? maybe purpled’s? he tries to respond, but he’s nearly certain all that came out was some sort of grunt.
“tommy!” they call again, and this time the hands that grasp his face are soft; they’re gentle, they weren’t restricting. they’re also cold and wet, but mainly very, very cold.
something about the temperature shocks his system into a state of higher awareness, and he can see things a bit better by the time he’s been sat up properly. he can make out charlie and eryn infront of him, but most things beyond that are blurry.
“tommy! what did he do to you?” eryn worries, searching him for injuries. tommy can taste metal in his mouth, so something is either bleeding enough to drip or he’s bust a lip. he can’t really tell at this stage.
“he- ‘s my head,” he manages, and fuck, if stringing together the words isn’t painful, “smashed them with the rocks.” he finishes, and he sees how charlie pales after looking at something behind him, presumably the rocks his head had been crashed against.
“okay - okay, alright, anything else?” he frets, focusing on unwinding the rope as charlie scuttles to his side, helping him stay upright.
“threatened to pinion me? don’t really know what it means,” he manages to slur, head dropping forward. he never could have thought that the sun would hurt his eyes so much. his whole body holds a faint ache, probably from his initial tumble down the valley.
“something about wings?” he tacks on, after he realises that eryn probably has no idea what it means either. it’s fine, they can learn together!
“alright, okay, alright-“ he seems like he’s struggling to breathe, which is odd because he’s really fit, and tommy doesn’t think they did that much running before.
tommy is distracted, though, by some rather loud noises to his right, so he turns to try and see what it is.
vaguely, he can make out three figures attempting to - he can only assume - flatten a fourth, but he can’t really tell.
someone should go grab some clouds. it’s so sunny.
where did that thought come from?
huh.
“tommy! tommy, hey, focus-“
fuck, could everyone not just shut up? everything is always so loud, why do they have to be loud?
tommy wants it to be quiet.
“-ommy! tom-“
tommy never gets what he wants, does he? it’s always be-this do-that but he never wants to. what if he wants to be a worm, huh? what then?
he would kill to be insignificant right around now.
“-my please! sta-“
thank goodness, someone is turning the lights down! it’s about time, no one in their right mind should ever have such bright lights in their room… he is in his room, right?
he only ever lies down in his room, and he’s laying down now… there are hands in his feathers, too, he only ever preens in his bedroom, and why else would people touch his wings?
yeah. he’s in his room.
someone - he isn’t sure - turns the lights off, and the people with him shut up - at last - and his pain begins to subside.
wait, pain?
… he’s not in his room, is he?
shit.
before he can reel himself back, his final strings tethering him to consciousness snap and he looses all control of his body, going entirely limp.
“this is getting rediculois.”
tommy sighs, wincing slightly as eryn tightens the bandages on his forearm.
“it- it’s fine, really,”
“no!” eryn shouts, interrupting him and throwing his hands up. the rest of the roll of bandage falls to the floor, tumbling out of it’s tightly-wrapped spool.
“it- it’s not okay! this is the fifth time! the fifth!” he growls exasperatedly, cutting off the excess wrap and making sure the bandage on his arm is secure. he begins to collect the wrap that fell to the floor as he agrivatedly rants.
“first they sent an army, then they sent their new crown prince, then technoblade alone, and two hit-men! two!”
tommy winces. for someone who exiled him, phil really wants him back. they still have him on ‘concussion watch’ after wilbur proper got him in the valley. he’s even got this cool scar on his left eye, making his vision on that side partially cloudy.
“we’ve got to settle this, like, once and for all. that or kill the bastard, either way i’m happy.” he finishes. tommy almost snaps at him, something about ‘careful, that’s my father’, but he takes the time to think, and decides that maybe they would be better off if phil were to pass away.
he’s going to expire one way or another, why not speed it up a little? the only person who really has something to lose is wilbur, and tommy will gladly strangle that pest himself.
“i’m sure we will, it- it’s all a matter of time, eryn. patience.” he reminds, and his friend flops onto the bed he’s sat on.
“i’m getting tired of being patient.” he grumbles, looking over at him. tommy smiles sadly.
“so am i, but patience is a virtue. good things come to those who wait.” he lectures, and eryn gives him an odd look. he races a brow, thoroughly confused.
“who told you that?” he snarks.
“me. i waited seventeen years, and i have good things now.” he states simply, to which eryn looks a little sheepish. “patience. things happen for a reason.” he’s still struggling to figure out what benefit nearly dying four separate times gets him, but that’s neither here nor there.
their little talk is interrupted by a knock on the door, charlie bursting in before they can say ‘enter’.
“alright boys, who’se ready for war?”
eryn and tommy reply at the same time.
“purpled?”
“jack.”
charlie makes a contemplative face, before nodding. “fair.” he settles on, but boisterously exclaims after a few more moments of thought- “but so are sapnap and eret!”
tommy chews on those words a little; hadn't the primelands and las nevadas already declared war on the antarctic empire?
“don’t tell me they started more fights with other people,” eryn states bluntly, sounding wholly unimpressed.
“nope!” charlie chirps, popping the ‘p’. “they are headed back to their barracks as we speak to saddle up and ride in themselves!”
tommy’s brain does some buffering, processing what that means, and eloquently lands on “ what.” in response.
“king eret and sapnap are fighting in person?” eryn echoes, seeking affirmation. charlie nods vigorously; he doesn’t seem upset at all.
“they’re planning a raid on the castle to deal with the high emperor once and for all!” goodness, charlie can be so cheerful and optimistic whilst saying the darkest shit.
“about time!” eryn cheers, making a wild hand gesture. tommy is more hesitant to share this joy, because he’s running through the probable outcomes and all the worst-case-scenarios.
“but that-“ he goes for, but is firmly interrupted by charlie once more.
“they don’t really care about the danger factor!”
there goes tommy’s one objection. he wants to complain a little more about the danger factor, but… sapnap is like, one of the best fighters he knows. he’s seen purpled and sapnap spar before, and tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so violent.
well, he did see what they did to the first assassin they sent for him. tommy is still a little bit scarred from the experience.
“i… don’t really know what to say.” he comments, quite perplexed. charlie’s face softens, and his smile is less manic and more comforting.
“you don’t need to say anything.” he assures him, not unkindly. tommy flashes a small little smile of his own as eryn starts putting all the medical equipment away. in the time it takes him to do that, tommy gets up and heads to the smaller window, perching on the chair there and overlooking the now setting sun.
it’s a few minutes oh him staring out, silently watching, for someone to approach him again. the sound of quackity’s voice was a bit of a surprise, but tommy has learnt and practised in his time at kinoko and las nevadas not to be startled, per say.
“penny for your thoughts?” he presses, standing by the chair beside him. their wings touch slightly, and tommy no longer instinctively retracts his own wings tighter to his back.
“sure.” he breezily agrees, opening a palm. easily, quackity drops a couple coins in his hand, which tommy pockets in his small belt-pouch with a wholesome grin.
“so?” quackity prompts once more.
his smile fades slightly.
“will i have to go back?” he doesn’t even stutter, preferring to get the thoughts out before he has too much time to gruel over them. he doesnt turn to look quackity in the face, instead opting to focus on the sky. clouds can make such familiar and strange shapes if you look at them hard enough.
“not if you don't want, i think.” is his level reply. of course, everything these days is shrouded in uncertainty, which is why he longs for nothing more than… to be stable. his life now, where he is in las nevadas, is as stable as it will ever be; like his life in the empire, but without the crushing burden of his responsibilities.
and the crushing presence of his father. that is a bonus he will never be ungrateful for.
“if… i want to visit?” he asks instead of saying no, no i dint think i ever want to go back, i never want to live in that cold, empty shell of a castle. and it’s because he does, he so desperately does, to visit the people he grew up with and walk the halls free of anxiety and sorrow would mean the world to him.
there are people in the palace he still loves. like jack, and schlatt, and fundy. sue him, but he still wants to see tubbo and ranboo. they, if nothing else, deserve a life severed from the eternal servitude of the royal antarctic empire.
“then you will.” quackity answers easily. the confidence brings a calm to him, and he smiles softy out at the ever-draining sun.
“i will,” he murmurs, affirming what he already knows.
his friends will move mountains for him, he’s learnt. they will help him, guide him, heal him, teach him; they will be there every step of the way on his journey, wherever he may end up.
there is no fear he cannot concur now, no challenge he cannot crush beneath his heel. when he is sad, they’re there for him, they hold his hands, wipe his tears; they wait for him to pour his heart out, then soothe the cracks made from his crushed soul.
free from the constraints of the empire, he is free to do as he pleases. people do not accommodate him because of his royalty, they let him in because they like his company; his conversation is amicable and enjoyable. their hosting is not born of etiquette, it is born of delight.
these are all things he knows now, they’re facts. they are the undeniable truths that mark his world, and even when someone comes to deny them, someone spurns his presence - hates his being - he has his safety-net of friends to catch him, to bring him gently to his feet again and help him survive.
turning at last to quackity, he offers a solemn look.
“i can do what i want.” he states plainly, with confidence. quackity nods, smiling in his own special way.
“of course.” he replies, as though it is the most obvious thing in the world. ( and it is. now, at least.)
“choose what i like.” he continues, puffing his wings and shifting the appendages slightly. he turns his head to look back out the window, admiring the stars that begin to shine through the thinning clouds and twinkle with the descending light of the sun.
“always.” quackity affirms once more, solid and grounding. tommy swallows a small ball of nerves that started festering in the back of his throat, turning once more to the supreme ruler of las nevadas.
“so what if…” he hesitates, not meeting quackity’s eyes. he brings his eyes from place to place, slowly lifting his head until he’s looking him in the eyes once more, a raw hope glittering on his face.
“i choose you?” he breathes, not releasing the eye-contact he’d grasped with the older man. he seems to buffer for a few moments, processing his words, before smiling so entirely and so joyously tommy almost wants to snap his wings out and do some happy loop-de-loops
“then i’d be honoured, and gladly have you as part of my flock.” he says softly, sitting next to him so that he can use one of his wings to cocoon him from the back. tommy leans into it, and rests his head on quackity’s shoulder.
“i’ve never had a flock before.” he murmurs, looking out once more. he can still feel quackity’s eyes on him, though he doesn't feel judged or scorned, he feels seen.
he feels loved.
“and it’s near criminal that you’ve lived without one.” quackity repeats, the words familiar to tommy. he remembers all that time ago, when quackity first sat him down and asked him what he really knew about being avian.
he can never go back to living like that, he thinks. sure, sometimes when his throat feels dry and his thoughts are heavy, he yearns for nothing more than to sink his fingers into his feathers and yank them out, plucking them one by one - even handful by handful - until nothing is left, and they are bare and useless. the mere thought of binding them, though, makes him shudder. his hindbrain sobs when he thinks about all the time he missed out on, all the years he spent cooped up, stuck on the ground - in the castle - like a bird in a cage, with clipped wings.
with warmth like that of the rising sun, he smiles. he turns to quackity, soft confidence radiating from his face as the last streaks of golden light illuminates them on the couch.
tommy has never had a flock before, but he’s fairly certain he does now.
purpled is his flock. charlie is his flock. eryn is his flock. fuck, billzo might be his flock - jack is his flock. he will willingly sacrifice himself for any of them, he is ready to lay down his life at any given moment for them.
“not anymore.” he states, watching as unshed tears begin to form in quckity’s eyes, before the man pulls him into a tight embrace, bringing his other wing to encompass him.
tommy knows he is crying as well, but the tears are happy. for once, he is sobbing from joy.
“not anymore.” he repeats. “not anymore,” he says again.
and again. and again. and again. like a mantra, a song to which he will live his life, he repeats the words.
he has flock. he is loved, he isn't alone, he is - at last - complete.