Chapter Text
“God of the sun,”
Calls a melodic voice from the darkness that hides everything, the rhythmic tapping of his shoes on stone eerily echoing through the tunnels.
“Your savior is here.”
He can hear the grin in his voice, the way the man was happy about this particular situation, excitement and anticipation lacing their tone.
Tommy shifts in the chains he’s locked in, being dragged out of one of sleep-like states, his eyes focusing on the torch that flickers down the tunnels, coming closer to where he resides. His heart beat picks up, the feeling of numbness and nothingness seeping away from him at the prospect of something new.
The man rounds the corner finally, the light from the torch lighting up his surroundings for the first time in centuries. The flames flicker, the dim orange light casting long shadows upon Tommy and the walls, flickering and shifting every second.
The man holding the torch is tall and lanky. He wears a trench coat and dark brown pants, with black boots and a yellow sweater. His hair is hidden by a beanie, but Tommy can see some brown curls spilling out from underneath and a streak of white mixed in.
Glasses sit upon his nose, and his eyes flash golden in the torchlight. He has a sharp face, angular, and screams of power and importance by the way he holds himself.
The man is also a divine being.
But he’s also familiar, someone Tommy might have known a long time ago.
Tommy wants nothing more then to spill his blood in that moment, recover some of his strength, bath in the ichor that is bound to flow through his veins. It’s been too long.
“My, my,” The man coos, coming closer to Tommy, a wicked smile on his face, “What a sight.” He says, his eyes sparkling as he towers over him.
The chains rattle as Tommy tries to move, hating the feeling of being looked down upon, but he’s been stuck in this position for centuries. The chains weigh him down, his hands cuffed and stretched tight, connected to the stone walls that cage him.
Chains and metal wrap around his legs, restricting his movement, along with a vest of metal that is chained to the floor and ceiling, keeping him in one position at all times. A metal collar is wrapped around his neck, and metal wraps around his jaw and mouth, not allowing him to speak.
His magnificent wings are caged in metal, chained out behind him to the wall, his orange, yellow, and red feathers that reflected the sunrise dull and faded.
All Tommy can do is shuffle slightly, breathe, and blink.
It was not a nice fate.
He still remembers the feeling of betrayal rippling through him as the people he trusted, fought with, protected, did this to him. Fucking twice.
“I’m sorry, Tommy.” Tubbo had said to him then, a pitying look on his face as he watched his solders chain Tommy up, immobilizing him, “But a monster like you cannot be allowed to roam this earth anymore.” He had called him a monster, for doing what he had asked.
Tommy had followed Tubbo, fought wars with him, listened to his command, bled for him— just to be tossed aside when his true colors had been revealed.
“I’m a monster?” Tommy shouted, his fight giving out on him as his best friend called him a monster, “I- I can’t believe you, Tubbo. Tell me this is a joke.” He pleaded, the weight of his reality finally settling in.
Tubbo only looked down upon him with cold eyes, as his solders grabbed his hands, cuffing the cold metal around them and stretching his arms all the way out so he had no slack.
“I’m certain you know it isn’t.” Tubbo snapped, running a hand through his hair, “You fucking— you kept this secret for how long? Lied, tricked, deceived all of us? And for what?” Tubbo shook his head, closing his eyes.
“You left me with no choice, Tommy. I never wanted this to happen, truly— but what can I do?” Tubbo asks, his voice breaking at the end, “What can I do, when my every move is watched, criticized? Your a war criminal, sentenced to death, but you can’t die.” Tubbo rolls his eyes, his arms shaking now.
“I’m sorry,” Tubbo whispers, and Tommy is lost for words as he’s bound to the stone, a metal collar being fitted around his neck, “I’m sorry.”
Tommy opens his eyes, meeting the golden ones of the divine being standing before him. He can’t respond, even if he wanted to, so it was really just a one-sided conversation. He hopes this guy frees him, but he knows there’s going to be a catch.
There always is.
“The god of the sun, banished into darkness, left to rot miles under the surface.” The god says, leaning back, slowly pacing in front of him, “Chained, betrayed by his own people, lost to history.” He hums, his eyes flashing to Tommy.
“Such a cruel life for the child of sunshine.” He smiles, a sharp cruel thing as he leans back down, face to face with him. “My name is Wilbur, by the way, and you are Tommy.” Wilbur says, and there is something so familiar about the name Wilbur that has Tommy blanking for a moment.
He knew someone named Wilbur, he followed him— but then he died.
This must be some cruel joke of fate.
Wilbur reaches out with his free hand to pet his head.
Tommy is frozen at the touch, the warmth seeping into his skin in the brief moment Wilbur had touched him.
Fuck— he missed that a lot.
Wilbur gives him a knowing, smug look as he retracts, tutting at him, setting the torch in one of the holes made in the stone wall centuries ago.
“Lets get down to business, shall we?” He says, clapping his hands as he stands in front of him, the torch light casting long shadows over him. Tommy just closes his eyes, yearning for the warmth Wilbur offered to come back.
“I’m going to free you, sun god, and in return you are going to help me fight a war. You’ll be my right hand man, the person I’ll turn to, put all my trust in. You’ll be mine.” Wilbur says smoothly, catching his attention. Tommy opens his eyes, staring at Wilbur who just grins at him.
“What do you say?” Wilbur asks, tilting his head before he laughs, a melodic thing that has Tommy relaxing. “Right, you can’t say anything, how silly of me.” Wilbur muses, before he kneels down in front of him, a dark look in his eyes.
“How about we fix that, hm?” Wilbur says, reaching out and gripping the metal that wraps around his jaw and mouth. Tommy’s breath stutters as he watches Wilbur, his jaw had been uncomfortably closed shut by metal for ages and he was dying to speak again.
Wilbur’s golden eyes flash as he gets the metal to shift, a triumphant look on his face as he frees it from his jaw. Tommy gasps, the metal being taken away and thrown onto the ground with a loud clang, jarring his under stimulated mind even more.
Tommy’s head feels so much lighter now without the metal constricting his face, as he breathes in through his mouth, opening and closing his jaw slowly. It was sore beyond measure, and just moving it caused pain to shoot through his body that had him wincing every damn time.
Wilbur just watches him, his curious eyes taking in every little detail of his face.
“So, Tommy, what do you say?” Wilbur inquires, an excited look in his eyes.
Tommy takes in a deep breath, his head lolling forwards, no longer stuck in one position, yet the metal collar still around his neck digs uncomfortably into his skin.
“It’s a deal,” Tommy croaks out, his voice sounding terrible and it doesn't fully register in his mind what he had agreed to. Wilbur just smiles, reaching out and cupping his cheek.
His warmth seeps into hhis freezing skin and Tommy leans into it, desperately, closing his eyes contently at how gentle he was being. Wilbur coos, rubbing his thumb along his cheek, as Tommy soaks up every little bit of affection Wilbur offers him.
“Aw, aren’t you just adorable,” Wilbur croons, “My personal little sunshine, all for myself.”
Tommy says nothing, his jaw aching fiercely as Wilbur cradles his face with both his hands, gently rubbing his jaw. Tommy can hardly believe this was happening— that another person was here, with him, freeing him.
Its been such a long time since he’s been touched by another person, let alone a divine being. It feels… nice. Something Tommy doesn't want to give up.
Wilbur stares at him for a long time, their eyes meeting before he grins sharply, straightening up and letting of his face. Tommy mourns the loss, a low whine escaping as his eyes follow Wilbur’s every movement, the warmth lingering on his face.
“I heard you were quite talkative in your time,” Wilbur says thoughtfully, as he examines the chains connecting him to the stone of the cave, “I hope it still holds true.” He says in a softer voice, his eyes flickering over to him.
Tommy says nothing, his head hanging forwards as he stares at Wilbur, willing him to hurry up and free him.
“Alright,” Wilbur hums, “Lets get started.” He says, and begins to undo what those solders did to him all those years ago. The chains rattle as Wilbur lets slack in on his arms.
Tommy gasps, his eyes flickering to where his arm hangs limp besides him. He moves it closer to himself, his arm numb and weak with disuse. Wilbur watches it all before he’s sliding the chains off, breaking the cuff around his wrist.
Tommy’s arm was free.
The metal falls to the ground with a clang, as Tommy lifts up his arm to stare at his hand in front of his face. He clenches and unclenches his fist, feeling slowly returning to his limb.
Wilbur gets his other arm free soon after, and for the first time in a long time Tommy can actually move somewhat normally. He then comes back in front of him, his hands clasping onto the metal collar around his neck. He fiddles with it before unlatching it, freeing Tommy’s neck from it.
Wilbur smiles, one hand reaching out and cupping the bottom of his chin as his other hand rubs his neck, trialing up and down it, his fingers feeling his adams apple. Tommy soaks it all in desperately, leaning into his touch like a needy cat.
Wilbur lets go of him once again, leaving Tommy as he moves on to free his wings. Tommy can’t see him, but he can feel every small movement, every small touch and brush of his feathers as Wilbur works on figuring out how to undo the chains.
Tommy shivers as Wilbur runs his fingers through his feathers, gently knocking debris and dust off of them.
“You are going to need a bath after this,” Wilbur says, “And new clothes.” He adds on, and Tommy can’t help but silently agree.
Wilbur sets to work, removing the chains on his wings, letting them fall slack to the ground. Tommy lets them sit for a moment, before he slowly moves them, feeling relief that he can still move his fucking wings.
Wilbur looms behind him, his arms slinking across the metal cage around his chest as he breaks off the brittle metal clasps, shifting it loose. The front of the metal falls off in front of him, and the one behind him is tossed aside by Wilbur.
With nothing holding him up Tommy slumps forwards, his arms fumbling to catch himself before he hits the ground. Wilbur, though, grabs him under his arm pits and keeps him from falling.
Tommy can feel how warm his touch is, how his skin feels alive again as Wilbur hefts him up, lifting him out of the metal shackles that had tied his legs down to the ground.
Wilbur’s breath was hot on his neck as he hoists him up, his wings hanging limp behind him as Wilbur drags him away from the pile of chains and metal on the ground. Tommy allows him, letting Wilbur set him down on the ground.
Tommy takes in a sharp breath as Wilbur sets him up against the wall, each touch and brush of skin burning hot, his golden eyes flitting around the cave. Tommy just sits, feeling returning to his body slowly. He stretches out his legs, his arms, his wings twitching behind him as he rolls his shoulders.
His clothes are like rags, shredded and falling apart on his body. Tommy was cold, sore, and hungry.
Wilbur stays standing, watching him as he moves out his limbs.
“Come on,” Wilbur pushes, “Lets get out of here.” He says impatiently, offering a hand out to him. Tommy just stares at him for a moment, before he pushes himself up all on his own, using the wall as support.
He feels naked without his amour. Tommy ruffles his feathers, dust flying around in the air around him as he staggers forwards on unsteady legs. Energy slowly seeps back into his body, the soreness he had been feeling dissipating like smoke.
Wilbur watches him, like a cat, his eyes flickering around as Tommy stumbles forwards. Fuck— there was no way he could get out of here like this.
Wilbur must take note as he sighs, though his eyes twinkle as he grabs the torch off the wall, moving towards Tommy.
“Hold onto me,” He says, offering out his free arm. Tommy grabs onto his arm, his fingers wrapping around his bicep as he leans his weight onto Wilbur. Wilbur grunts before he smiles, beginning the trek out of the cave.
Tommy clings tightly to him, his fingers curling into his trench coat as he stumbles along after him, soaking in the warmth.
They walk in silence, at a slow pace, out through the small tunnel that had been the way out. Other tunnels branch off from the main one into darkness, as it had been a mine before he was put down here.
Now everything sits ruined, with old wood beams rotting, tunnels crumbled and collapsed, debris littering the ground. At one point Wilbur and Tommy have to squeeze through some rubble, having to climb over it.
Wilbur leads the way, confident in his steps as he holds the torch, lighting the path out of the damp old tunnels.
Tommy’s not entirely sure how far underground he had been trapped, but he knows it was at least a couple miles below the surface. It takes ages to get back up, as fresh air flows down the tunnel, the smell of the outside hitting his nose sharply.
Tommy immediately perks up, his eyes straining to see the sunlight pooling through the entrance a couple hundred feet away. Excitement immediately builds up in his chest, his wings puffing out in anticipation.
Its been forever since he’s seen the sun.
“Excited?” Wilbur asks, chuckling, “Being deprived of the sun for so long probably wasn’t so good for you, was it? Being the sun god and all.” Wilbur hums, as Tommy’s grip on his arms tightens.
He stays quiet, not because it hurts anymore, but because the moment he’s out, he’ll be free, and no longer in need of his help. Tommy does not care for the stupid deal he made with the man, he intends on going back on it.
Revenge sits heavy on his mind, plaguing his thoughts, as a craving for blood wells up within his chest, rearing its ugly head and waiting to be set free.
Wilbur trudges along, oblivious to any of the thoughts Tommy was having.
Tommy clings onto him, soaking in his warmth and touch. No matter how much he yearns to curl up within his arms, press his ear against his chest and feel his heart beat, Tommy can’t stay with him.
Won’t stay with him.
He has a family, for one he needs to get back to and show them he’s alive, and he has blood to spill.
Even if this man reminds him of someone he had loved as a brother he knows he isn’t him. It stings, being reminded of him like this, giving him even more reason to leave.
He’s weak, he hasn’t had any sacrifices in decades. People have forgotten about him. But thats okay. Tommy will make them remember.
Wilbur glances at him as the sunlight kisses his skin, Tommy letting go of him as he stumbles forwards, still shaky on his legs but no longer in need of Wilbur’s support.
He has to duck to get out of the cave entrance, and when he does he’s meet with a field of long grass spanning out in front of him, the wind rippling the blades like the sea.
A tree line sits further off, and mountains reside on the horizon line. White, puffy clouds dot the blue sky, and the sun shines brightly down upon the land.
Tommy stands out in the open, closing his eyes as he takes in the sun, the small breeze, the sound of birds chirping and bugs flying around.
Man, has he missed this.
He can hear Wilbur step out behind him, his presence weighing heavy around him as Tommy flexes his wings, wondering if he has enough strength to fly with them yet.
Probably not, but he can make do. All he needs is an air current and he should be good.
“Well, Wilbur,” Tommy begins, his voice back to normal as his blue eyes peer over at the man who was besides him. Wilbur regards him with a tilt of his head, surprise flashing across his face for a moment.
Wilbur really, really looks like the person he knew, too. Now that he can see him more clearly in the sunlight.
“It’s been fun, really, but I got to go.” Tommy grins, taking a step forwards, bending his knees as he prepares to take off, his wings spread and ready, “Thanks for freeing me, truly appreciate it, owe you a big favor, really, but I’ve been gone for fucking centuries, I am not sticking around with you.” He says, casting him one last look as he prepares to lung up into the sky.
“Stop,” Wilbur says, his voice coated in honey, the words bouncing around the inside of his head, settling deep within his mind. Tommy freezes, against his own will, the wind ruffling his feathers.
“What—“ Tommy grits out, willing himself to move, but he fucking can’t. Its as if his body has stopped listening to his own mind and instead only responds to whatever the fuck Wilbur did to him.
Wilbur grins sharply, stepping in front of him, his golden eyes sparkling with mirth.
“Oh Tommy,” Wilbur croons, “You really thought I’d let you just leave?” Wilbur shakes his head, every word that leaves his mouth seeming to drag him deeper into whatever weird thing Wilbur has trapped him in.
“We made a deal, little birdy,” He says, leaning forwards, their faces mere inches apart, “You can’t just go back on it now.”
“Watch me, bitch,” Tommy snaps, trying to move but he can’t, a haze starting to fill his mind, “That wasn’t even a proper deal, so thus it’s invalid. Nothing binds me to you.” He spits out, his eyes blazing as Wilbur just smiles at him.
“Oh, I know,” Wilbur hums, “I was just waiting to see if you’d see through your end of it, but it appears not.” He says simply with a shrug.
“You were foretold to be the child of sunshine, of everything pure and innocent within this world. You do not act pure.” Wilbur says in a snarky tone, as if he was scolding him, “I guess all those centuries locked away underground really did a number on you.”
“Fuck. You.” Tommy grits out, “You should have known better when you came to free me, you fucking dumbass.” He seethes, and Wilbur reels back, surprise flickering across his face.
“Those are some big words for a child of innocence and purity.” Wilbur mocks, amusement and intrigue lacing his eyes, as he regards him with a new interest, “You do not live up to your godliness.”
“Let me free,” Tommy hisses, glaring at the man. Wilbur regards him for a moment, before he relents.
“You are free to move, but you must stay by me.” Wilbur commands, his words twisting through the air and weaving its way into his very being. Tommy staggers forwards, his wings flaring out to regain his balance as the haze thickens around his mind for a moment.
Tommy mantles his wings behind his back, the dullness of them much more obvious in the sun light. He faces Wilbur, glaring at him as he crosses his arms.
“So, how about we make this deal proper?” Wilbur smiles, all sharp teethed and everything.
Tommy scowls, his mind reeling as he tries to figure a way out of this. Wilbur was going to be a tricky one to get away from, with his ability to make him listen to his every command and drag him down into a drug-like haze.
“Fuck off, man. Can’t you just let me go?” Tommy snaps angrily, “I love fighting wars for other people and everything, but like also I have a family I need to return too.” Tommy states simply, his cold eyes staring at Wilbur.
“Oh?” Wilbur says, leaning forwards towards him, “You speak of the gods of death?”
“Yeah, dumbass.” Tommy scoffs, annoyed, “Who else?”
“You know, I always found it interesting that the gods of death chose a child of sunshine to raise as their own.” Wilbur hums, his eyes taking on this weird look, “You would have thought they’d choose a… darker god to raise.”
“Fuck off,” Tommy spits out.
“Alright, alright,” Wilbur placates, “Lets get down to business, shall we?”
“Whatever,” Tommy grumbles, the wind ruffling his blonde hair. Wilbur smiles.
“In return for freeing you, you are to fight in my war, stick by my side, be my right hand man.” Wilbur pauses, before he takes a step towards him, “You’d be mine for the duration of the war.” He purrs, his eyes sparkling with glee as Tommy sends him a withering glare.
“Right, and after the war?” Tommy asks, ignoring the all to familiar dark look in Wilbur’s eyes.
“After the war you’d be free to return to your family, if you so choose.” Wilbur shrugs, “The deal would be over. Your debt paid.”
“Of course,” Tommy says, “I have a few conditions, though.” Tommy says, and Wilbur gives him a look.
“And what would those be?” He inquires and Tommy smiles.
“When I’m under your… command, you cannot harm me, or exile me, or do anything that would affect me negatively, besides going to war of course.” Tommy smiles, “You can’t toss me aside if you learn something about me you don’t like.”
Wilbur’s eyes sparkle as he grins right back at him, something dangerous and interested swirling in his gaze.
“I would never do that to the sunshine child,” Wilbur smiles, holding out his hand to Tommy. “Its a deal.” He says sharply.
Tommy stares at his hand for a moment, before he sighs. There was no getting out of this.
He reaches out and shakes his hand, feeling the deal materialize into something that binds them both. It settles within his soul, a little reminder of the deal he just struck.
Wilbur sharply grins, something smug and satisfied swirling in his eyes.
“Pleasure doing businesses with you, sun god.” He croons, retracting his hand from Tommy. Tommy’s eyes linger on his hand, his warmth disappearing.
Fuck— he can not let this guy get to him.
“Wilbur, do you know why I had been banished underground?” Tommy asks after a couple beats of silence. Wilbur shrugs.
“I don’t know. All the records of you being exiled had been destroyed ages ago.” Wilbur says, his eyes curiously staring at him. “Expect for the hidden documents I had found.”
“And what does history make of the sun god now?” He asks, ignoring the last thing Wilbur said, and Wilbur hums.
“The world believes the sun god had been lost to time, driven to death from grief and sadness from the wars you fought in.” Wilbur says, “That is the legends of old. They think you have returned to the sun itself and watches over them all today. Your story lives on, and you have many temples dedicated to you.” Wilbur explains.
“The world did not forget you.”
Tommy frowns, feeling slightly uncomfortable. They didn’t tell everyone who he truly was, or maybe no one believed them. He can’t help but feel a little hurt about that, that his legacy had been him retiring to the sun out of grief.
“I’m sorry to inform you, Wilbur, but I am not the god of the sun, or pureness, or innocence— quite the opposite, in fact.” He grins sharply, his blue eyes settling upon Wilbur.
“I am the god of blood and war, created in divine beauty, meant to be a beacon of hope in rough times. I am a god for which mortals to believe in, a being of hope and divinity, someone to protect them.” Tommy throws his arms wide.
“Did you really think the gods of death chose a child of sunshine? Innocence?” Tommy laughs, smugness curling in his gut at the shocked expression on Wilburs face, “I may be a protector, sure, but I am no better then any other murderer. A beacon of hope, as I slay enemies on the battle field, gaining more power with each death.” He laughs, and it feels good, to tell someone this.
“I might represent beauty and divinity, but thats all a facade, something meant to draw my enemies in, give them a false sense of safety.” Tommy smiles, “I have done terrible things, torture and murder and gods— I am not the sunshine child.” He huffs out.
“Oh my god…” Wilbur breathes out, his eyes wide as he stares at Tommy, “Thats not possible— there is a god of blood already out there!” Wilbur says, and Tommy freezes, not registering any of the words Wilbur says next.
“I’ve met the gods of death and they called you the sunshine child— you must be lying,” Wilbur continues, slightly frazzled but Tommy was still stuck on the fact there’s another blood god out there.
“What,” Tommy chokes out, making Wilbur stop, “There’s another god of blood out there?” He questions, and Wilbur nods slowly.
“Yes, Techno the god of blood and war.” Wilbur says, “He is the blood god, not you.”
Tommy takes a step back, his wings falling limp behind him as his hands grip his head, finding their way into his hair as he pulls at the strands.
“They replaced me,” He says, his voice reeking of heartache and grief, “I can’t believe they replaced me.” He says, to no one in particular. Was this why he no longer got sacrifices? No longer heard the whispers of mortals long past?
Tommy had been replaced by the universe itself.
“My parents— they didn’t raise him, did they?” Tommy asks Wilbur, and Wilbur winces.
“They didn’t raise him, but he’s basically apart of the family.” Wilbur explains slowly, and Tommy wilts.
“They… replaced me.” He says as he sinks to the ground, covering his eyes with his hands, “I can’t believe it.” He laughs, a cruel sharp thing.
“I’m going to kill him.” Tommy seethes, “How dare this Techno take my family, my title, my sacrifices— I’m going to rip him to shreds, watch as he bleeds out beneath my feet, tear him limb by limb. He’ll regret the day he wronged me.” Tommy spits out venomously.
Wilbur lingers in front of him, awkwardly just standing there.
“I don’t think your parents would allow that,” Wilbur says slowly, as if he was scared to set Tommy off, “And I don’t think they replaced you, either.” He says, but Tommy ignores him.
“They were struck with grief for decades, waiting for your return. They searched, and searched, looking over ever continent, country, to find you, but it proved fruitless.” Wilbur pauses.
“They found another godly child and raised him as their own, and a couple decades later they befriended the young blood god, accepting him as part of the family. They told stories, spoke of their sunshine child that they had lost. But never once did they mention you were the blood god.”
Tommy lets out a long breath.
“I— Wilbur,” Tommy begins slowly, and Wilbur hums.
“They replaced me.” He says simply. “They promised me they would never do this— that I was their one and only, everything they ever needed. They gave up on me.”
Wilbur is quiet for a long time as the words settle, thick like fog in the air around them.
“Thats where your wrong,” Wilbur says, “They never gave up, Tommy. Gods don’t just die. They continued their search even while expanding their family. There is nothing wrong with continuing on life, centuries later.”
Tommy sucks in a sharp breath. He feels betrayed, forgotten, an ancient god lost to time and replaced by the universe.
“Whatever,” Tommy spits out, glancing at Wilbur, “How do you know so much about my family, anyways?” He asks suspiciously.
Wilbur shrugs. “I like to keep up on the latest gossip.”
“Oh, so your one of those gods.” Tommy says with a roll of his eyes and Wilbur splutters.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
Wilbur snorts before he’s walking over to him, as Tommy plucks a couple blades of grass from where he sits on the ground.
“For an ancient god, you act no older then eighteen.” Wilbur says, something curious lurking in his eyes as he sinks to the ground in front of Tommy, giving him a small tilt of his head.
Tommy meets his eyes, before scoffing. “Does it really matter?” He asks, “I am an ancient god, alright, and you should respect that.”
“I do, I do,” Wilbur hums, reaching out a hand and resting it on his shoulder. Tommy freezes up, his eyes pinned on his hand, “But its… hard to see you as anything other then the god of the sun.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not.” Tommy snaps, “I’ve met the actual sun god, and he is very pissed that I am who they think of when praying to him.”
“Why haven’t they come down to the mortal plane?” Wilbur asks.
“They aren’t allowed to.” Tommy says simply, eyeing Wilbur. “Surely you know this?”
“I thought every god was allowed free reign.” Wilbur states and Tommy rolls his eyes.
“Your ignorance proves just how young you are.” Tommy scoffs, “Not all gods are allowed here.” He answers simply, “Only if Xidii allows it.” Wilbur gives him a blank stare and Tommy really wants to punch him.
“You do know Xidii, correct?” He asks and Wilbur slowly shakes his head.
“Gods, your fucking stupid.” He grumbles, making a surprised noise as Wilbur suddenly pulls him in for a hug.
“I think you need a hug,” Wilbur hums into his ear, dragging Tommy to be pressed against his chest, his knees digging into Wilbur’s legs. He hopes it hurts. “Little baby Tommy is cranky after his centuries nap, its okay, Wilbur’s here.” Wilbur hums, his fingers threading into his hair.
Tommy melts into his hold— against his own will, mind you. He’s been trapped with nothing but stone and darkness for centuries, no other human or god in sight. He’s feels… empty, and cold.
Something needy and possessive in his chest wells up as Wilbur shows him affection, all his movements gentle and soft as he maneuvers Tommy like a doll to draw over his lap, still hugging him.
Tommy feels his fight draining as he rests his head on his shoulder, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other at the back of his head, playing with his curls. His wings droop along the ground, in the grass, and Tommy steals the warmth from Wilbur.
His hands grip the back of Wilbur’s sweater as Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block out his emotions as that same haze returns to his mind.
“You are making a grave mistake,” He whispers, warning Wilbur of what he was doing. Wilbur just hums, his eyes sparkling as he presses Tommy closer to him, his grip tightening. This was all so familiar, to familiar.
“I know exactly what I am doing,” Wilbur responds, booping him on the nose, “Sunshine child.”
“We’ve been over this—“ Tommy says softly, cracking an eye open to stare at Wilbur who just smiles down at him.
“I know, I know, blood god and all, thats cool.” Wilbur waves it off, “But I see why they called you a sunshine child.”
Tommy glowers at him, “I am your elder, for one,” Tommy spits out, “And I don’t want people mistaking me as the sun god, thanks.” He frowns before adding, “Prick.”
Wilbur laughs, burying his face in his curls before he pulls back sharply, “I forget, you are still all covered in dust and your clothes are literally falling apart.” He scrunches up his nose, whipping at his face with his shirt.
“Fuck you,” Tommy says as he pushes himself off of Wilburs lap, the man letting him go. “You deserve all the dust on you.” He snaps, mourning the loss of Wilbur for a moment.
Wilbur laughs again, standing up and dusting off his clothes.
“I saw a river on the way here, you can get cleaned up in that.” Wilbur says, turning his back to Tommy. Tommy narrows his eyes, the sudden urge to stab Wilbur in the back strong.
Wilbur was essentially asking for his loyalty in return for his freedom from exile.
“Lets get going before it gets dark,” Wilbur says, glancing back at him, “I can already imagine that you are going to crash later.”
“Huh?” Tommy asks as he stands up, his legs still a little weak, otherwise he was completely back to normal— besides having no extra strength from sacrifices and death, that is.
“Exactly,” Wilbur grins at him, “Lets go, sunshine.” He calls, starting to walk through the field of grass.
Tommy stares after him for a moment, wondering if he could just turn around and not follow Wilbur, but something urges him forwards. Like a little push, and the further Wilbur gets away the stronger it is.
It squeezes at his chest, his very being, until he gives in, taking a step forwards. The feeling doesn't ease up until he was closer to Wilbur, who had a knowing grin on his face, but he said nothing.
Tommy scowls, wrapping his arms around himself as his wings fluff out behind him.
He hates this already.
~~~~
Tommy sleepily rubs at his eyes, his hair still soaking wet from the river he had just jumped in. His wings are drenched, dripping with droplets, and Wilbur’s clothes that he borrowed him hung loosely off of his body, clearly meant for a taller person then Tommy was.
Tommy scowls, the sleeves were too long that they covered his hands of the grey shirt he had on, and the sweat pants were a little loose for comfort.
It was all… weird. Tommy had been expecting something other then wool that Wilbur would give him. Tommy was a warrior after all, he needed amour and weapons to fight.
His other clothes had been white and red, matching the red on his wings. He had his own custom amour, but he’s not sure what Tubbo did with all those years ago.
Tommy makes his way over to where he thinks Wilbur is waiting for him.
He’s honestly not to sure where the divine being is, but he’ll find him. Or Wilbur will find him first. Doesn't matter.
Tommy spots the man sitting atop something, the setting sun outlining his figure. His trench coat drapes over the thing he’s sitting on, as he smokes a cigarette, the smoke curling up through the air.
Tommy was hoping there would be a fire by now.
“Wilbur?” Tommy calls as he nears, weaving around trees as he makes his way to the dirt road where Wilbur waits. Wilbur glances over at him, cigarette in hand as his golden eyes flicker over his form, his lips twitching up in satisfaction before he glances back at the darkening sky.
“You look so much better,” Wilbur notes, not looking at him as Tommy walks over, “Cleaned up real nice.”
“Fuck off,” Tommy grumbles, standing off to the side slightly as he eyes the thing Wilbur’s on. It has glass and what looks like four doors. He peers inside and notes wool seats, along with a lot of things he doesn't recognize.
“What even is this?” He asks as he pokes at it, and Wilbur glances at him again before he laughs, sliding off the thing and grinning at him.
“This, my dear god, is a two-thousand chevrolet astro, over three-hundred thousand miles on her,” Wilbur says, as if he was proud, tapping the metal, “Still going strong.” He grins at him, opening the door.
The door squeaks on its hinges but Wilbur ignores it.
“Okay, what the fuck does any of that mean?” Tommy asks, still just as confused. Wilbur deflates.
“Its a car, I suppose.” Wilbur shrugs, glancing back at it, “But this is a van, specifically. People drive around in it, cuts down travel time by a lot.” Wilbur hums, running his hand along the door frame.
“In a box… of metal?” Tommy questions and Wilbur nods.
“Yup,” He says, “You’ll see.” Wilbur hums, glancing back at him. “Its nothing like horses or donkeys or walking places. Its so, so much better.” Wilbur says, flicking his cigarette into the grass and stomping on it.
“I’ll show you my other cars when we get to the city. They’re fucking fast,” Wilbur says, “I’ve got a charger, camero, and a couple others sitting in my garage.” Wilbur lists off, grinning at him. Tommy thinks he was trying to impress him but Tommy just had zero clue what Wilbur was even talking about.
“But those cars definitely weren't big enough for… everything I needed. And especially with your… wings.” Wilbur coughs, gesturing to his wings that were still dripping wet, “So my first car it was.” He smiles, glancing back at the van.
Tommy just now notices the rust peeling off the teal-blue paint on it, the dents and scratches that mark the whole thing. It did not look appealing, and Tommy had no idea what Wilbur was talking about.
“Okay, well, use words that I can actually understand, dickhead.” Tommy says, sighing. Fuck— what else was different? “Wheres the camp?” He asks, assuming Wilbur must have set it up already.
Wilbur just gives him a look.
“Camp?” He laughs, shaking his head, “Who do you think I am?” He scoffs, opening the back door for Tommy. “Get in, we’re going to a motel for the night.” Wilbur says, gesturing to the car. Tommy stares blankly at him.
“Huh,” Is all he says. What was a motel? He was getting frustrated by not knowing anything that Wilbur says.
“I’m assuming you don’t want the front seat?” Wilbur questions, glancing at the passenger seat that was full with clothes and other junk. The back seats were clear of any mess. “I’m not moving all of that.”
“Right,” Tommy says, eyeing Wilbur. He was cautious to get into the car, having to tuck his wings tight against his back, getting the shirt Wilbur gave him wet as he ducks in. He sits in the middle as he lets his wings relax, settling them on the wool seats.
Wilbur slams the car door, making him violently flinch. The lights are on in the van, as Wilbur walks around to what he assumes is the driver seat. Tommy curls in on himself, dread already filling his stomach.
“I don’t like this,” Tommy says the moment Wilbur opens the door. Wilbur huffs at him, rolling his eyes as he sits down, slamming his door too.
Tommy huddles in on himself more, wrapping his arms around his middle as he stares at the back of Wilbur’s head.
“Just relax,” Wilbur says, “Its not that bad.” He hums as he turns on the car, the engine taking a minute to fully start. Tommy just stares wide-eyed as the whole thing comes alive— air starts blowing, lights come on out of no where, and there’s a constant humming coming from the car.
“What—“ Tommy begins but stops as the car starts to move, holding onto Wilbur’s seat in front of him as Wilbur laughs.
“Isn’t this fun?” Wilbur says, glancing back at him as he steers the car with a wheel, lights coming on in front of them, lighting up the dirt road.
Tommy has a death grip on his seat as Wilbur speeds up, slowly, casting him a worried glance.
“You can put your seat belt on, so you won’t be sliding around back there.” Wilbur offers, a small frown on his face at the look on Tommy’s face.
“Wilbur, I fucking hate you.” Tommy grits out, “What the fuck is a seat belt?” He asks, his eyes never leaving Wilbur. Wilbur laughs, grabbing something from besides him and holding it out for Tommy to see.
“This is, just connect with the thing at the bottom here,” Wilbur explains, clicking it into something. Tommy glances back at the seats, before grabbing the same thing Wilbur did.
“I don’t fucking like this,” He mumbles, “Why can’t we just have a horse? Or made a camp and walked in the morning?” He continues, fumbling with the ‘seatbelt’ as Wilbur drives slowly.
Tommy can’t figure it out what Wilbur means, so Wilbur leans over with one hand and puts his seat belt on. It rests over his chest and waist, and keeps him against the seat, but he still has a lot of movement.
“You are such a child,” Wilbur says, but Tommy can tell he’s smiling as he glances back at the road, “Just calm down. Everything will be fine.” He reassures him, and Tommy can’t help but not feel reassured at all.
He honestly prefers the Wilbur from earlier, who was making deals with him. The sly god that had tricks up his sleeves, and hidden cards unknown to Tommy.
Now he was just left with a weird ass dude that is taking him somewhere he has no idea.
Tommy settles back down, his wings puffing out as they continued to dry. The air in the car is blowing warm, and Wilbur turns it down as he drives. They sit in silence, the constant humming of the car the only noise.
The sun completely sets and its dark out now, the only light the ‘head lights’ as Wilbur had called them.
This all feels wrong to Tommy. You weren't supposed to travel at night.
“Hey Tommy,” Wilbur calls softly, and Tommy glances his way from where he had been staring out the window. Wilbur doesn't look at him from where he drives, the dirt road turning to something else Tommy doesn’t recognize.
“Yeah?” Tommy asks softly, crossing his arms.
“Do you have a way to hide your wings?” He asks, glancing back at him, “We’re going to be around other people now, and they don’t particularly fancy hybrids. Especially avians.” He says sourly.
Tommy tilts his head. “Hybrids?” He questions, wondering what the fuck that was.
“Oh— right.” Wilbur coughs awkwardly, “Hybrids are people like you, Tommy. People with animal attributes and instincts, like wings, tails, ears… the list goes on.” Wilbur explains, “Hybrids derived from gods who fell in love with mortals and had a child with them. Their animal features passed on to their child, who were demigods, and the bloodline carried on.”
“Over time the genes mutated into more mortal standards, with instincts and long lineage of hybrids coming about. Everyone has a little bit of god dna in them, but not everyone has instincts, or in your case wings.” Wilbur hums, “People don’t like others who are different from them.”
“So what your saying is that the descendants of gods are shunned for their godliness?” Tommy asks bluntly, and Wilbur splutters before nodding.
“I suppose,” He agrees, “But they are far from immortal, Tommy.”
“Of course,” Tommy hums, “There can only be a select amount of gods in this world.”
“Right…” Wilbur says, “I just need you to know that not everyone will like that you have wings.”
“Well you don’t have to worry about that,” Tommy says, yawning, “I am a beacon of hope. Only people who are in desperate need of being saved will be able to see my wings.” Tommy catches Wilbur’s attention now, as he glances back at him.
“What?” He breathes, “That— does that apply to gods too?” Wilbur questions and Tommy laughs.
“No, dumbass.” Tommy sighs, glancing back out the window, “Only people who are loosing themselves, depressed, hopeless, in a really bad situation… can see them, see me for who I really am.” Tommy explains.
“Everyone on the battlefield needs a beacon of hope. I was their hope, their promise of better days, the comforting whisper in the wind that told them they would see their families again.” Tommy sighs, “For people outside of the war, when they were able to see my godliness, it was for a reason.” He hums.
“Usually its when the person was ready to kill themselves. But thats not always the case.” He says, idly picking at his feathers.
Wilbur is quiet for a while, before he nods his head.
“So you appear to people in their time of need?” He asks and Tommy nods.
“Yes,” He responds, “At their lowest moments.” He shrugs, “I am the beacon of hope.”
“Thats a lot to bear,” Wilbur says, “A lot to live up to.”
Tommy gives Wilbur a smoldering look.
“Its what I was born for.” He says simply, “There is nothing I am living up too. I’m just me, and thats all that the people need.”
“Of course,” Wilbur says, “You really are the sunshine child, aren’t you?” He breathes, glancing back at him, “You can’t deny it. You may not be the god of the sun, yet you are seemingly everything pure and good.”
Tommy just shrugs.
“I’m not pure or good,” He disagrees, “Your just lingering on one side of me. Your not taking in the full picture.” Tommy rolls his eyes. How many times does he need to explain to Wilbur?
“I’ve killed thousands in cold blood. Followed ruthless leaders who were just using me, fought countless gods over the smallest of things. I’ve lied, tricked, betrayed many. Fought tooth and nail for everything I had.” He says simply, “I am not good or pure, for you are just seeing what you want to see.”
Wilbur is silent, taking in his words.
“Every god has done those things, regardless of who they are.” He says, “That doesn't negate the fact that you are still a good person.” Wilbur argues.
“Whatever,” Tommy says, slumping down in his seat, “I suppose you’ll see for yourself whenever we get to this war.”
“Of course,” Wilbur says, “Until then, why don’t you try and get some sleep? We’ll be at the motel soon enough.”
Tommy stares at Wilbur’s head in the dark of the car, before huffing and staring out the window again.
When they eventually make it to this… motel, they had passed at least three other cars coming straight at them, blinding him from how bright their lights were. Tommy still doesn't understand how any of this works, nor is his brain really functioning at one hundred percent right now either.
The motel is in the middle of nowhere, with a couple other cars parked out front. Trees and woods surround them on all sides, and the building is just one story. Tommy watches as Wilbur turns it the car off and gets out, coming over to his door.
Wilbur opens it and stares at him expectantly.
“Well? Are you coming?” He asks, and Tommy goes to move but the seatbelt stops him. He pulls at it, his nails digging into the flesh of it as he tries to get it to come undone.
“What the fuck— I hate cars! This is stupid, how did you even—“ Tommy growls out, as Wilbur reaches over and presses something, making it come slack.
Tommy lets it go, his face dropping. Wilbur just stares at him before laughing.
“Right, I think your going to need some lessons on everything.” Wilbur muses as he helps Tommy out of the car.
Tommy bats him away, stumbling to his feet before Wilbur closes the door. A cool breeze blows by, ruffling his now dry hair and damp feathers.
Tommy scowls, staring out at everything.
“I hate this,” He says, eyeing up another very unnatural light source, “There’s no torches, or horses, and you use concrete for roads, and this is all so alien.” Tommy grumbles.
Wilbur gives him a look before shaking his head. “Gods, you are so old.” He muses, wrapping an arm around him. Tommy allows it, a part of him yearning for the touch as Wilbur pulls him into his side, “You can’t be stuck in the past. You have to adapt, use these new things to your advantage.” He hums, tugging Tommy along towards the motel.
“War has changed, too. You have a lot to learn.” Wilbur says, leading them towards the building. He pushes open the door as Tommy mulls over Wilbur’s words.
He wonders just how different everything is now.
They enter a small room, Wilbur pulling him tighter into his side as they come up to a counter. Everything was weird. The floors were dull, the walls were an off white, and it smelt bad.
There was a person sitting on a chair, on their phone, with their feet up on the counter. He was bald, and wore these weird blue and red glasses. The man sighs, turning off his phone and glancing at them.
“Big Innit Hotel, how can I help you?” He says, his voice unwavering as he just stares at them, unimpressed. Wilbur leans in, squinting at his name tag.
“Right, Jack, I’m Wilbur. I called earlier about a room.” Wilbur hums, his voice melodic as Jack scoffs, pulling out some papers. Tommy shifts, peering over at what he was doing.
Jack’s eyes snap to him, before he pauses, his eyes settling on his wings. Tommy just stands there, tilting his head as he offers Jack a small smile. Jack lingers on his wings a moment longer, before he meets his eyes.
“Who are you?” He asks, suddenly sounding vulnerable and weak, his facade crumbling at the seams.
“I’m Tommy,” He introduces himself with a curt nod, “Ayyup.”
Jack snorts at that, his eyes taking him in before he shakily reaches for a key hanging along the wall. Wilbur watches the whole interaction closely, taking in every little detail.
Jack hands the keys over to Wilbur, a slight tremor in his hands.
“Thanks,” Wilbur fishes out something green from his pocket and places it down on the counter, “Keep the change.” He says with a grin as he goes to turn away.
“Right… thanks, Tommy.” Jack says as they leave, his eyes lingering on him.
Tommy ignores the look Wilbur sends him as they walk along the sidewalk to get to their room.
“What was that all about?” Wilbur asks and Tommy glances at him.
“Huh?” He asks, and Wilbur gestures to where they had just left.
“He could see your wings, does that mean—“ Wilbur begins and Tommy cuts him off.
“Yes, Wilbur.” Tommy says, staring straight ahead, “There is no need to comment on it.” He adds on, giving Wilbur a sharp look. Wilbur stares at him, his grip tightening on him.
“Thats not it… you just, exist? And thats it? You do nothing to help.” Wilbur says, and Tommy nods.
“There is nothing else I can do.” He says simply, “Not that I would care enough for a stranger to do anything besides something easy, or quick. I can’t afford to care about everyone.” When there is no one left to care about me goes left unsaid.
“Why of course,” Wilbur hums, putting the key in the lock and opening the door.
Tommy steps in, noting with disdain there was only one bed.
“Wilbur,” Tommy whines as the man shuts the door, “I am not cuddling with you all night.” He says as Wilbur flicks on the light. Wilbur sighs, giving Tommy a look.
“You don’t want to cuddle with me? I am the most cuddly person you will ever meet,” Wilbur grins at him, shrugging off his trench coat, “It wouldn't be that bad. We’d get half and half.” He hums.
“I’d rather sleep on the floor.” Tommy grumbles, eyeing the nasty floor of the motel. Wilbur huffs at that, his eyes landing on the couch pushed against the wall.
“Well, I guess I can sleep on the couch.” Wilbur says, “Unless you would like to spare my back and take the couch?” Wilbur asks, glancing at Tommy.
Tommy gives Wilbur a certain look.
“Gods don’t need to sleep.” He says slowly, his suspicion slowly rising up, “Especially if you haven't lost centuries of offerings and prayers.” He adds on, crossing his arms. Wilbur has a carefully neutral expression on his face, as he stares Tommy dead on.
“And what are you suggesting, Tommy?” Wilbur asks, his tone taking a sharper turn as the two eye each other, “That I am anything less than a god for sleeping?” He snaps, his mood turning sour.
Tommy immediately gets defensive, anger bubbling up in his chest at the blatant disrespect Wilbur was giving him. Tommy was also just looking for a fight, too— its been to long.
“What I’m saying is that gods don’t need to fucking sleep—“ Tommy begins and Wilbur cuts him off.
“Does it matter if I sleep or not?” He spits, “Its an old habit that is hard to kill. There’s nothing more to it.” Wilbur says, his tone sharp, clearly stating the end of the argument.
Tommy still feels angry, as he glares at Wilbur, but the look he gives him has him backing off.
“Whatever,” He says sourly, walking over to the couch as his wings curl around him, blocking him from Wilbur’s burning stare, “Fuck off.” He bites out and Wilbur relents, turning his gaze elsewhere.
They sit in silence for a while, as Wilbur hands him a blanket from off the bed, left with only the sheets. Tommy says nothing as Wilbur goes into the bathroom, hearing the shower turn on.
Tommy settles on the couch, glaring at the floor with his head in his hands.
How did he end up in this situation? Just a couple hours earlier he was stuck in that damn cave, with nothing but darkness surrounding him on all sides, trapped in his own mind.
Tommy shudders, feeling that familiar darkness and loneliness creeping up upon him the longer he sits in silence. He can’t handle this.
Tommy sits up, sighing as he squeezes his eyes shut. He bounces his knee up and down, anxiety thrumming in his veins as his wings puff out. He’s exhausted but he’s not sure how much he’ll sleep.
He usually never slept, always staying up and keeping guard, or creating battle plans for the next day. Tommy was efficient, and fast. He never took breaks, or time for himself.
He was a warrior, and as long as he had someone to follow then he would be fine.
“Tommy? Are you okay?” Wilbur calls as Tommy’s eyes snap open to meet his.
Wilbur’s hair was soaking wet, sticking to his head as it dripped droplets onto the ground. He had on just a white t shirt and shorts, with a towel in his hands as he stares at Tommy with a frown on his face.
Wilbur looks nothing more than a mortal— he looks nothing more then the person Tommy knew.
Tommy can’t believe the person he is following is Wilbur.
Again.