Chapter Text
Tommy rifled through the chests, the slightest hint of nicotine in unventilated air. He sighed, nothing of worth had been left there. He didn’t expect there to be much left, everything had been picked over long ago. He remembered fondly the nights he spent farming with Techno, and the nights of shared stories over the light of a torch. Those memories were whispering echoes of a time as dead as Wilbur was. Pogtopia was a ghost town, much like the rest of the server. Tommy cussed under his breath.
He wasn’t angry anymore. He couldn’t find any anger left. He was frustrated. He never wanted to go back to the SMP. He swore it, not by any gods name, but he swore it nonetheless. Coming back to the SMP was not on his bucket list. On instinct his fingers twitched, he pulled up his inventory. A lot of his stuff had been confiscated when he entered the server. It meant that Dream knew he was there. It was a matter of time till he got picked out.
Knowing this was no comfort to him. There’s a part of Tommy that knew he should have been scared. He should have been terrified at seeing his old abuser again. Cold and hollow praise would fall on deaf ears. He didn’t care for Dream. He smiled at the thought of Dream tearing apart logstedshire, of trying to track him down. The idea of the man going crazy as his favorite puppet got cut from its stringsl.
Poetic justice would be served. It would be Tommy’s punishing hand. Dream made one mistake all those years ago. He rolled his eyes, rifling through the old barracks. His feet clacked against the stone floors. His boots were getting dirty. He clicked his tongue, it echoed against the button covered walls. He could deal with that later. Dreams one mistake wasn’t breaking Tommy sooner. He should have squashed any anger and bitterness before it turned Tommy into what he was.
Tommy grabbed one of Wilburs old trench coats, throwing it on. The familiar scent of cigarette smoke filled his lungs. He searched the pockets, there was still a pack there. That could be useful in the future. Stars know that he's going to get a headache. It’s funny, he thinks, that the godforsaken lands he’s from is a better world than this server. A ding from his communicator and he’s pulling it out of his inventory.
He flips it open, scratched and ripped off stickers decorated the surface. A single keychain remained. It mirrored the tattoo on his wrist that replaced the broken heart, demon horns and a tail. He flicked his own. A reminder that he was the leader Wilbur always told him he’d never be. Wasn’t that ironic.
He rolled his eyes, scanning the message on the bright, bluelight screen.
It was a message from Dream. A simple question.
Dream: Who are you?
Tommy tilted his head, grabbing a piece of jerky from his pants pockets and biting down. He rolled his shoulders before responding.
{Null}: A traveler
Oh. He didn’t get a chance to fix his user over the comms. He still had it hacked from 2b2t. He would fix it after he got a better lay of the land. It all depended on what story he went with. He’d probably end up changing it back to Tommy, though he hadn’t been called that in a long time. Red Scourge had a nice ring to it.
He was a plague to the lands. The thought made him giddy. He was a whisper of death in the wind. He was a sign of destruction. Where he went he brought nothing but decay and rot. He purged the lands of its factions, of its resources. He burnt homes to the ground. It was their fault for trying to build anything permanent on the lands. He shook himself off, already feeling the buzz of adrenaline under his skin.
He had his user encrypted. There were shields upon shields blocking his data. If you give people an in then they’ll take it and they’ll exploit it. His name would show up as Null for everyone who contacted him. He wasn’t someone to mess with. Where he’s from it’s kill or be killed, Tommy licked his lips. He had developed quite the taste for blood.
There was a tingling through his body, an admin enacting the magic bestowed to them. He pulled his stylus out, ready to fight against the command. He relaxed. Instincts and habits would be hard to break, but he had to let the admin do what they would to him. He didn’t have a choice. The idea of playing nice with Dream left a bitter taste on his tongue.
Pogtopia had proven of no use. The only thing it got him was a funky coat that had cigarette burns in the lapels. It was patchwork and would fit the role he needed to play. Tommy ran a hand through his hair. Bad memories were stored here. There were a few good ones too. The next time he could, he’d maybe linger on the feeling a bit more. Feelings aren't useful to his cause. He couldn’t deny that it would be nice to reminisce, even just once.
He pressed his back against the wall, slipping his comm into one of his pants pockets. He slid down till he was sat down, knee’s steepled. He folded his hands and rested his head against them as the world slipped away for a brief moment.
When he opened his eyes he took a deep breath, he chased away the nausea. Once his stomach had settled he stood up. Tommy hated forced teleportation. He liked being able to control when and what he did. He scrunched his nose. That was a let down, he didn’t have his short cuts anymore. No more item duping, no more creating things from nothing. He’d be stuck like everyone else. What’s the point of being one of the greatest hackers alive if he couldn’t do anything with it?
The room wasn’t what he was expecting. Dream sat on a throne made of skulls and bones. Swords jutted out from it. It didn’t look comfortable. Tommy stood on obsidian floors. The only light came from lava flows on the walls of the room. It took everything in him not to pull out his dagger and shank the man right then and there. Hanging from the ceiling, right behind his throne, floated dark, midnight wings. It was held up by neon green strings that seemed to glow in the dark, an eerie sort of
Tommy may have hated Phil with a burning passion, but wings are an Elytrians pride. To take them was to take a crucial part of their being. Good things would come to those who wait, Dream would fall for his sins and retribution would come to those who had been wrong. Tommy followed the strings, they led to pedestals with different items on it. There were a shit ton of the pedestals, carved out of dark marble and illuminated from above by glowstone lamps. The items all belonged to different people from the server. Tommy even noticed Niki’s baker's cap. It was sickening.
Befitting, a puppeteer with symbols of each of his puppets. Proof of his control, proof that he ruled over them. A hand hovering over every movement. Put the items in the hole, Tommy . Befitting of the master puppeteer but sickening nonetheless. It made Tommys stomach churn, which was saying something considering he once gouged someone's eyes out. He took another steadying breath.
Dream wore the garments of a king. Long billowing, fur lined, neon green cape cloaked the man. A golden crown sat on his head bejeweled in diamonds and emeralds. He still had that same, stupid mask. Where the smile part of the face used to be black, it was now inlaid with gold. It looked corny.
Tommy wasn’t used to kings and leaders. He was the judging hand of god. He was the punishing glare of satan. Tommy was used to telling people what to do. He was used to doing the reprimanding. In a godless land, Tommy had built himself up to be a saint of death. People worshiped at his feet. He was going to miss that a little.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re on my server grounds. You will be escorted out,” he waved his hand. Technoblade stepped out of the shadows, a sword at his hip and decked in netherite armor. That wasn’t a good sign. Techno serving a monarchy? That was like Techno being an actually good anarchist.
Hm. Tommy kept his face even. He wasn’t leaving that soon, not after having to drag himself back to the flowering fields of the server border. He knew Dream, better than Dream probably thought. “Listen, I didn’t work my ass off in 2b2t to be dismissed. Again.” No one had ever listened to his ideas before. He wouldn’t let that stop him. He was all powerful, not in the Dream SMP, but… eh.
Dream sat up a bit straighter. “You’re a long way from home, why come here?” He held up his hand, Techno stopped in his tracks. A dog on a leash, oh how the mighty has fallen.
“News came through the grapevine. Which is hard considering most people who carry news die before they can share it. Decided I want a change of pace.” He kept his sentences short and snipped.
“Fascinating,” Dream leaned his head against his hand. He was being scrutinized.
Was he really that different? Could they really not tell it’s him, the same Tommy who Dream had played with back in exile. Sure he looked different, he knew that. He no longer had deep, sunken, tired eyes. He could sleep whenever he wanted too, he barely had to lift a finger. He had filled out, he had more muscle. The muscle thing came with the territory of being proficient in multiple weapons.
The lazy glow of the lava illuminated Dream’s mask. Techno remained still, stiff as a board, a long braid cascading down his armor. They both looked the same. Techno didn’t wear his crown, yeah. But he still had the same dark red rimmed eyes, the same bright pink hair too.
Maybe that’s why they don’t recognize him. Tommy had died a lot the first few months of living in 2b2t. The first thing he had felt upon entering the server was a knife to the heart. He remembered the pang of hunger as starvation took him under. Each and every time he would wake up in the same eternal hallway. He would follow the waiting line until he was revived.
Each revival left him with yet another strand of white hair. After the eighth death his head started getting itchy. After his first glitch he was left with a bright pink strand of hair. He had a red one for the ‘faction’ he founded. They were cult-like followers, it’s different. He didn’t care for them. He let out a sigh. Running his hand through his hair. He had a shit ton of black hair, but after some number of deaths he caused, they stopped showing up. There was a bright blue strand for his first hack. A neon green strand signified his first cheat. His hair was just a rainbow of color.
Tommy flicked his tail. It was a bit annoying, to look like a unicorn threw up on him. After he destroyed his first village, his horns finished growing in. Demon-like in nature, horns and a matching tail.
Okay so maybe he could understand why they didn’t recognize him. The only thing left of him were the scars running across his face, up and down his legs. There was still a nasty one on his shoulder where Dream's arrow had landed. Some days he could still hear the echoing of the countdown, the rush of adrenaline. Tommy doesn’t miss anymore. He had new scars too though, his hands were rough and calloused. He had one across his nose from a nasty slice from some guy MC? Tommy didn’t pay attention to it.
“Yeah. Needed to spice it up. You know how it is.”
Dream tilted his head again. Tommy didn’t like the way he knew he was being measured up. He was being analyzed by both parties in the room. Techno seemed bored, but Tommy knew him better than that. Tommy still knew what every little twitch of the brow meant. To say that Technoblade was curious was an understatement.
“I don’t.” Dream rolled his wrist, keeping his eyes on Tommy. “I have a very strict code here, and I have for years. There was a tragedy with a beloved member of the server. Since then I’ve been the guiding hand this server needs. No more need for sadness.”
Oh. Gross. Gag him. It took him everything he had not to physically recoil. Was that how Dream was spinning it? Did Ranboo even get his letter? There was no time to dwell on it, he kept his face even, cocking an eyebrow slightly. He was being used to justify the rule. That’s… ew. Ew. Ew.
“That’s very kind of you.”
“Should you stay here, you’ll have to bow to those rules. Can you do that, anarchist?” A test. A simple one.
Tommy leaned forward, brows furrowing in mock anger. He then dropped the act. Shrugging it off. “Sure. I mean I’ve done it before.”
This seemed to satisfy Dream enough. Which thank the stars, because holy shit, Tommy hates every moment he stands in Dream’s presence. Especially with the knowledge that he was being used in such a creepy way. Why did everyone listen to him? He’d get his answers. He’d help his friends– ex friends and then he could go back to 2b2t and live out the rest of his life as the demon he was born to be.
“I’m going to need a name, so I can assign you a complex in L’manberg.” So Dream’s using L’manberg. Things got a bit more interesting, a bit more complicated too. He’d have to figure out what had changed in the two years he was gone. He could piece together the story as he went. He was excited to see the people he used to call friends, but terrified to see how the years had changed them.
“Right. A name…” Tommy made eye contact with Techno. He couldn’t go by Tommy, no that wouldn’t do. With a smile he refocused his attention on the man wearing the fools gold crown. “It’s Theseus. If you give me a moment I can take down my shields on my comm user? I promise it’s really easy.”
A trident appeared in Dream’s hand. “One hack and you’re dead. Of course you’ll respawn, if our gods let you.”
Tommy wanted to point out that the three gods of the reigning courts probably couldn’t give two shits about him, but he bit his tongue and bided his time. Absently, he wondered how church Prime was going. He had bowed at her knees, Lady Prime had abandoned him like everyone else. Maybe that was the painful curse of his life. Gods forsaken people in godless lands. Fitting.
Tommy held up his hands in surrender. “I swear, I want a chance here. I wouldn’t break a rule that obvious… in front of you anyways.” Techno took a step forward, hand on his hilt. Tommy pulled out his comm, sliding out the stylus. “Chill out, I’m just joking.” A few button presses later and his Null name changed to Theseus. It wasn’t even his name. It was hilarious how easy it is to fool people sometimes.
Dream pulled out his own comms, the trident disappearing in a golden light. With a nod Techno stepped forward. “My champion will escort you to the Lmanberg premises.”
“Thank you, for the chance.” Dream tilted his head. Tommy frowned. It was with a wave of the hand that Tommy realized what Dream wanted from him. “Your majesty.”
“You two are dismissed. Enjoy your stay, Theseus.”
Techno grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him out of the room. The place was fortified. Whatever castle they had built didn’t look easy to get into, that’s for sure. Tommy took everything in, eyes dancing across the floor of the corridor.
There were no windows, their feet clacked against a mix of blackstone and obsidian. The only light came from those same lava channels and the occasional glowstone lamp. There were portraits of Dream hanging up on the wall, three in total. Each pose mocked one of the L’manberg presidents. He let his brows furrow in concentration, no longer worried about masking his thoughts.
There were plants every few feet, the only color allowed in the area.
When they got out Tommy recognized where they were. It was just off of Bad’s old place. Except Bad and Skeppy’s house was gone, left was a crater and built on top of it was a type of barracks. Melancholy mourning hung in the air. Tommy took a deep breath, it was clear and clean. That didn’t stop there from being a weird type of dark smog over the area.
The sky was overcast, not a shred of blue sky to be seen. The ocean had turned a fuzzy purple color. He recognized the small glimmer in the air around the castle thing, redstone pollution.
“Stars,” Tommys stretched out. “This place is depressing. That castle seems more like a prison than anything.”
Techno didn’t crack a smile, moving forward. He grabbed Tommy’s wrist, dragging the boy around. “Our Engineer and builder originally designed it to be just that. Dream had it repurposed after the kid's death.”
“Did you all care about him that much that you allowed Dream to boss you around?” Tommy asked. He didn’t think anyone had cared about him. They exiled him. The only visitor he got towards the end had been Dream. Sure there had been a bunch in the beginning. But they stopped coming, and he stopped expecting them. Even ghostbur stopped showing up.
Speaking of, Tommy would have to track that guy down eventually. A crucial pawn in his game of chest.
“He was like the lifeblood of the server, I wish I could have done more for him.”
Of course they would say that after he had been proclaimed dead. He was a little upset they didn’t hear about him leaving, Tommy for sure thought that the bastard god would make a big deal about it. He set foot on the prime path, he could feel the presence of the fortune god.
He had forgotten that he was used to that feeling once upon a time.
“Pity. So. You’re Technoblade right?”
This seemed to take Techno by shock. He paused for a beat before continuing onward. Tommy could still see the curiosity leak off of him. He could hear the wonder in the man's voice as he spoke. “Yes.”
“Awesome!” Tommy mocked awe. “You’re like, famous on 2b2t.”
“I am?”
Tommy wrinkled his nose at the sight of the once nice mansion replaced. Bad's place had always been so nice, even with all the trolls and griefing. It didn’t matter because the demon always took care of it all. It was gone, like a lot of the server. On the bright side, there were more tree’s. They lined the prime path. Prime probably enjoyed it.
“Yeah, a big joke. The Blood God, an anarchist who doesn’t do anarchy. Me and the crew like to get a good laugh off of your daring tales.”
Techno didn’t slow his pace, though he was definitely getting annoyed. “Whoopie. I’m ecstatic.”
“Stars above. I mean, don’t get me wrong. You were a shitty anarchist, but I didn’t really peg you as the type of the guy who would willingly join a monarchy.” This was how he’d get information. Not overt questions, he had to keep things subtle. Subtle enough that he wouldn’t get caught and killed, or whatever the hell Dream would do to him.
Maybe Dream would try to manipulate and break him again? The thought almost made Tommy laugh. That would be funny. Maybe Tommy would have to let him try. And stars, he could try.
“I didn’t. Not at first. But now I serve his majesty with pride.” The comment fell flat, and it was the sarcastic type of flat that not many people could pick out from Technoblade. Okay, so the monarchy was exactly a willing thing, but the entire server was under it now.
The last time he checked Eret had been monarch again. Tommy would have to track them down, figure out what was going on with that. He knew he’d probably get a version from Dream, the official version he tells everyone. But Dream was a tad bit infamous for… altering the truth. Tommy didn’t believe a word that left the king's mouth.
“Huh. What do you say, bi-” He had to stop himself. Big man was such a Tommy thing to say, he’d have to make sure he didn’t fall into old habits. He had to be as Theseus as possible. “C’mon,” he amended. They turned on the path, walking on the bridge part of the path that had been a bitch to build. “Don’t you want to have a bit of fun! You and me, let’s do something adventurous. The ex Blood God and one of 2b2t’s best, we could get-”
Technoblade unsheathed his sword. “Careful what you say and to whom you say it too, little anarchist. I pledged fealty to his majesty, as did many others. He has eyes and ears everywhere. ”
That was… more of a warning than Tommy had anticipated. Techno and him had always had bad blood, especially after November 16th. That was in the past though, and the hardened warrior needed his help. Everything that had happened to Tommy on the Dream SMP was negligible in regards to his greater life. There was nothing and no one that could make him care. The only reason he was back was a weird sort of obligation he felt for the places established.
He had fought for L’manbergs freedom, people died for its freedom, Tommy would make sure it was free again. It also didn’t help that now Tommy knew it was his supposed death that let Dream seize control. What god complex did Dream even have? The hand that pulled on the strings of puppets too tired to fight back.
Tommy smiled, staring at the inky tattoo on his arm. He’d be the shears. Theseus would give Dream a run for his money.
His breath stuttered. His steps faltered. His smile fell. He had no connections to the Dream SMP besides maybe the people and hard won accomplishments. The Dream SMP was a single stroke on the canvas of his life, and yet seeing his old house… it was melancholy.
Techno halted where he was, turning around to see what Tommy had stopped at. He offered a pensive smile. It did little to dissuade the despondency of seeing his old abode. What used to be, albeit a bit of a mess, but a cozy house on the whole, stood taped off. It was covered in glass, a museum exhibit. Not a single speck of debris. Copies of the discs were vaulted on pedestals, gleaming in their shimmering plastic fakeness.
“What–” Tommy stopped himself. His words fell off the tip of the tongue. Bastard. His fingers twitched. It would be so easy to revert the land into what it once was. It would be exhaustive but worth it. A little, big, act of defiance. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
They were playing a game. Tommy couldn’t reveal his hand too soon.
“This was his house, Dream was grief stricken and at first he wanted to get rid of everything to do with him.” Techno recounted the tale as if he had heard it a thousand times. “He didn’t. He loved the kid, he ended up saving the house as a memento for the server citizens.” Tommy didn’t buy the bullshit for a second. It wasn’t out of some sort of parental grief of a child that Dream had saved the house. It was the wet, raging anger of a child losing their favorite toy.
“Poor kid.”
“I don’t think we have the same definition of poor. He was loved, just foolish and naive.” Techno looked at the house with a fondness Tommy never saw from the guy when he was supposedly alive. He wanted to snap back some retort about how one sided love wasn’t worth it. But alas, he had appearances to keep up.
“Maybe,” is what he said instead.
The rest of the path to L’manberg was a familiar one. Nothing else really changed in comparison. It was still muscle memory, one foot in front of the other as he walked the prime path. Stars, it was exactly how he remembered it. Only it was gloomier, and darker. Overall a really bad vibe, 0/10 stars on server yelp.
Techno kept quiet, but Tommy could feel the warriors watchful eyes tracing his steps. So that was the game. He was getting examined, everything from where his eyes flicked to how his nose twitched. The inquisitive stare was nothing new. It came with the territory of running one of the most successful factions but… hm. This was different. This didn’t hold hostility. He was being sized up, but not to look for weaknesses.
He wondered what Techno made of Theseus, a boy who had the confidence that Tommy never could. Theseus, the hero doomed to fall. The hero thrown over the cliff. The hero who never could die. He was getting sappy, his nose twitched at this. He was no hero, he never wanted to be. He had simply worked too hard for L’manberg to be under dictatorship again.
He wondered what his flicking eyes said to Techno. His gaze flitted about, from the fly above the prime path to the way Techno had the slightest of limps. That was new. An injury. Another mystery. Fascinating.
And then his jaw dropped. L’manberg had its walls back. Obsidian, dark as night and sapping the light from the air. Above it was a dome of glass. L’manberg was completely reinforced. Where the gate was, stood multiple guards, all unfamiliar people to Tommy. Lava washed next to them in a bubbling stream.
“What the hell happened,” Tommy muttered. Techno didn’t say anything, stopping in his tracks.
“The Earl will be out as soon as I leave,” that sounded like a roundabout way of saying goodbye. And as Techno left, he grabbed Tommy’s shoulder, whispering in his ears. “Eyes and ears open, there are spies everywhere. The king has his people in the most unlikely of places. Be vigilant. You do have allies, young Theseus.”
Before Tommy could ask the guy what the fuck he meant, he was gone. He was gone and in his place stood… Holy shit.
“Stars,” he let out a stuttering breath. Because in front of him stood the Earl of L’manberg, Tubbo Underscore.
Tommy did not miss Tubbo. His heart dropped in his chest, giving a little squeeze. He didn’t miss his ex-best friend, the boy who exiled him. He did not miss the traitor who forced his hand, forced him to grow up too fast. He didn’t miss the man who he would plant flowers with, who would but his head against Tommy’s. He didn’t miss the joyful laugh and playing in summertime breezes. He didn’t miss laying in fields of flowers and knitting each other crowns made of nature's finest. He didn’t miss Tubbo.
Tommy’s always been a good liar though, hasn’t he.
Tubbo had grown up in his own right. Though he was still unmistakable. Half of his face was covered in that same fireworks scar, a leftover from the Manberg era. The eye on that side of his face was still milky white. He was more built, but his eyes were deep sunken. Whereas Tommy looked like he never missed a good night's sleep in his life, Tubbo looked like he never got a wink of sleep in his life.
Tubbo’s hair was combed back, and for a fleeting moment, as Tommy noted that Tubbo fit into his suit perfectly, he looked all too much like Schlatt. His horns protruded, long and spindly, coming to points. A tiny neon green pocket square decorated with his green tie. Tubbo never liked that shade of green. He always wore a red tie, because he always wore Wilbur’s suit.
It wasn’t fair for Tommy to compare the man to Schlatt, least of all now. But it felt almost fitting, except Schlatt always had a purpose to his walk. Tubbo’s attempts to stand up straight only made it seem like he was falling asleep on his feet. The guy needed coffee stat.
Tubbo extended a hand. “My name is Lord Tubbo Underscore of L’manberg. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The formality in his voice was trained. It was practiced. It was wrong. That was not the bubbling enthusiasm of someone with too many ideas. That was not the voice of someone who only wanted the best for his people. That was not the voice of his best friend, his ex-best friend.
“Yeah, you too man. Name’s Theseus.”
Tubbo nodded, staring at Tommy’s tattoo for a second too long before pulling away his hand. “I will be escorting you to your living quarters. There you will get your weekly schedule, as well as your job assignment. I will be going over all of the rules on the way there. His Majesty is very strict.” That’s when Tubbo’s gaze landed on Tommy’s hair. “One of which is no hair dye.”
Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “Not hair dye, wish it was. Makes me look like fucking rainbow dash, innit? 2b2t is a bit wild like that.” A lot of people had colorful hair there, a lot of multicolor stuff. Almost no one had as many colors as Tommy. Most people walked around with heads full of white fluff, dead on their feet. People tended to leave them alone, a living ghost.
Die enough times, get revived enough times, and you lose yourself.
“No cussing,” Tubbo chastised. He turned on his heels, beckoning for Tommy to follow and waving at the guards to open the gate. They did so as Tubbo commanded.
Tommy wasn’t scared of anything. He had faced death, had learned how to control magic and make it bend to his whims. He was all powerful and a god amongst men in his own right. However, he’d be lying if he said a lump didn’t form in his throat when he crossed over the threshold. He was terrified of what he would find.
Inside the walls was vibrancy. It was alive, with the giggling laughter of children and the butterflies that flitted about in the small breeze that shouldn’t have been possible. Trees lined the path where it could, there was still a shit ton of water flooded areas, but they were sprinkled with lily pads and cattails. It was almost magical how much better L’manberg looked.
Tubbo relaxed when the gates closed behind him, Tommy still caught the nervous flick of his eyes as he watched his citizens play amongst vivid wild flowers. Tommy smiled at the way that Tubbo looked almost at peace.
“This place looks sick, man,” Tommy said.
“Thank you. It’s because of his majesty's grace that we are allowed to prosper. If we follow his rules then we are rewarded. He treats his citizens well.” Now that statement. Tommy did not like that statement.
It sounded just a little bit like what Dream had done to Tommy in exile. A soft hand carding through his hand, only to bring the sting of disappointment in the next breath. Follow the rules and you never fear the sword to the neck. Follow the rules, the restrictive and poisonous rules, and you never notice how he’s already begun to eat at your soul. Follow the rules and you’ll never realize that the sword was shoved through your stomach instead.
Tommy didn’t listen when Tubbo gave a run down of the history of L’manberg. He didn’t listen because he was there, but things in there were wrong. The way that Tubbo talked about it, that wasn’t the real Tubbo talking. The real Tubbo would have still held even the slightest grudge against Eret for taking his first life. Before that day they hadn’t even had the tiny markings on their wrists with the bright red and broken hearts.
No, this was a Tubbo crafted out of necessity. Tommy flicked his tail. He knew what that was like. He didn’t question it. He accepted how it was presented to him. He’d have to make sure not to say any of the real history, since obviously this was one of the many things Dream had started to change. History is written by the winner in bold brush strokes, covering the notes of truth in the margins. Dream would make sure that his version is the only version known.
The truth has a nasty way of persisting through. A whisper on the winds. A change in the ticking of clocks. It’s a subtle thing, one that’s nothing more than a rumor. But truth prevails where lies do not. Because lies can change, and if one changes a lie enough, people start to notice. Tommy smiled. How many times could he get everyone to change their lies before he could justly call them out on it?
Only the ticking of time would tell. Only the distant beating of hearts filled with hope would tell. Only the flames of justice would tell.
Then Tubbo started going through the rules. And if that didn’t make Tommy’s heart beat. Rapid and coursing and pounding, it echoed in his head. Not only that, but words from a lifetime ago permeated, they grew louder with each rule that Tubbo repeated. They were ingrained, emblazoned, scarred into the deepest part of Tommy’s brain. He couldn’t forget the rules of exile even if he had tried too.
The worst part is that there were more. More rules to follow, though the important ones stayed the same. Tommy did his best to keep his breathing even, he kept his gaze level. He couldn’t show that this had a reaction on him. He couldn’t freak out over something as simple as rules.
“One more thing, we’re all aware you’re from an Anarchy server, but this isn’t 2b2t. Don’t act like it is,” the words are cut short. Staccato sentences where usual ramblings had once occurred. This was not his best friend– ex best friend. This was a new man, wearing the same skin and staring with the same eyes. Just as Tommy was different, so was Tubbo. The only person who seemed to have changed is the land around them.
“Why ever would you insinuate that,” Tommy’s tail flicked. He was growing bored of the conversation. He wouldn't get any information from Tubbo, lest not that day, nor in the open area of the residential district. It wasn’t safe to speak treasonous thoughts in the wide open, where waiting ears were eager to prove themselves.
“Your land is a godless one, everyone knows 2b2t is where those who are forsaken go.” Tubbo stuck a key in one of the house's doors. It was familiar and Tommy couldn’t place why. “That being said, you are still expected to attend the Church Prime sermons, may our gods have mercy on your soul.”
Tommy flicked his tail again. He scrunched his nose. The taunting voice of the god as he stepped across the server boundary came to mind. And stars that had been an annoying voice. “Think if I step foot on holy land I’ll burn.”
Tubbo smiled at that, opening the oak plank door, leading into a cozy small living room. “Then you best hope you’re forgiven.”
Absolvement of sins doesn't happen. A god is only as good as its followers. A god is only as holy as its name. When you live in a land filled with death and destruction, fire reigning over the land like a cold dictator, it’s hard to have faith in any god. He’s heard people cuss out their gods in their last moments. He’s asked for last words and he’s heard them confess to gods who had left them to rot. It was their idea of last hope. It was them keeping the embers of their existence. Alive.
Tommy had no time for gods. They didn’t want him, he didn’t want them. If they had cared for him, even just a little, he wouldn't have suffered through exile. They would have helped him and they would have cared. But they didn’t. He left and the only goodbye he got was a promise that he would be back, that his soul was tied to the land of his first two deaths. It was a stupid thing, Tommy bet that XD was laughing at how right it was.
The house was simple. A small living room, a kitchenette. There were stairs that probably led to a small bedroom. It had everything he needed. Nothing more than the bare minimum though. A thin layer of dust coated everything. He couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that the rooms were familiar though. Tommy let out a sigh, he’d add some personal touch later.
Sitting on the coffee table was a Book of the Triad, what looked like a brochure, a booklet, and a new comm device. He stared at the comm device with contempt. His own was a wreck, sure. It had been through life and death with him. There were stickers of L’manberg half peeled off and scratches left and right. But it was the last thing he had of his old life.
“I’m not using that thing,” Tommy said.
Tubbo picked up the Comms device, rolling it over in his hand. “It’s a safety precaution. You’re part of the Dream SMP, we can’t have you talking to people outside of server bounds. Plus… you’re…”
A hacker. The worst of all sorts of magic users. The world shouldn’t glitch, cheats shouldn’t exist. And yet they did because hackers abused the magic in the world. If anything it wasn’t because he was a hacker. Magic was something he could change with a flick of his wrist if he so chose, rewriting the code of the universe. There was nothing special about his own comm. The new device had a tracker in it, that much became extra obvious after Tubbo shoved it in his hands.
He looked at the back, small scratches marred the smooth material where tiny screws existed for the hard drive. Not only that but it prevented him from talking to people outside of the server, not that there’s anyone outside he’d particularly care to contact. Maybe, maybe a few people he met when he stopped in Hypixel for a spell. It was to isolate the server from outside news, which only talked about the tyrannical rule of Dream.
“Ever hear of the Dictators playbook?” He asked as he flipped open the device.
Tubbo tilted his head. “No? I don’t think I have, why?”
“It basically, simplified, explains how a dictator keeps their power by outlining a few simple categories. One of which you can see Dream use here. Though I’m sure you’re familiar with Dictators.” Tommy kept the new one, it would be helpful to keep people off his ass.
“Dream is a just king, you’ll be careful to mind your tongue,” Tubbo snapped. Tommy smiled at the flash of exhaustion. There he is, there’s the real Tubbo, he’s hidden in there. Tommy slid the comm into one of the trench coat pockets. He’d get his best friend back. Not that he cared for the guy. “Also what do you mean? Dictator?”
Tommy kept his smile, curiosity. That’s one of Tubbo’s defining characteristics. He was inquisitive to a fault. “That Wilbur guy seems a bit like one.” Tommy didn’t believe it, but not once did Tubbo bring up Schlatt, so Tommy could bite his tongue on that front.
Tubbo’s shoulders sagged, and for a moment there was a defensiveness to his stance. It left before it went anywhere. “You’re right. Yeah. You’re… you're right.” Tubbo walked to the door. “Goodbye Theseus, I’ll see you around.”
“Goodbye, Mr. President.” Tommy didn’t get to see the flash of horror on Tubbo’s face.
Stretching out in his new place, Tommy got straight to work. He couldn’t take out the tracker in his new comm, so opening up his old one he started to run a hack. The magic wasn’t hard to work, using the help of the technology Tommy was able to manipulate what the tracker dispelled. It was a simple enough spell that he didn’t have the gods up his ass for messing with the world. He could go wherever he wanted too and it would show Dream whatever he wanted to see.
That would be another problem. For the first while he’d need to keep his head down, be a good little citizen. Tommy slid both his comms away, he would still use his old one, he’d just have to be careful where he used it. Tommy scowled, seeing his hands shake after he no longer had something to hold in them, he could go for a cigarette.
The nicotine, noxious smelling ravine might have been one of the worst parts of his life, but it had still been one of the only times he ever felt at home. Wilbur passed a few habits to Tommy before he killed himself, smoking had to be one of those. The pack in his coat pocket weighed heavy like lead. He’d have to save them though, a rainy day would be his downfall and he knew he’d be falling back on bad habits.
The next thing he did was check out every nook and cranny of the place. He displaced couch cushions, checked in chests, and cabinets, and drawers. He looked for something, anything that could tell him what was going on. There was nothing there. Nothing of note anyways. All that came to a screeching halt when he moved the mattress. When he threw it onto the floor there was a dull thunk.
Now they were getting somewhere. Tommy opened the mattress, pulling out the contents. A small netherite dagger with an engraving and a framed photo were the only thing in there. He frowned, breath hitching. Of course he got his old L’manberg house as his new one. The Netherite dagger had a message written in enchanted… which he was going to ignore. The photo was a picture of the original revolution crew.
Tommy took a deep breath, stuffing the photo back into the mattress and placing the dagger into a little slot in his boots. Hidden from the world but easy to access, just how he liked it. That night he slept on the couch, and for the first time in a long time, nightmares plagued his dreams.