Chapter Text
Philza hadn’t seen Tommy in quite some time. The trek from Techno’s house to his youngest son’s place of exile was a long one, and he had only ever made it once before. Now, he felt, was the right time. He packed his things and looked out over the fallen snow.
Phil turned in the doorway to face his eldest son “Are you sure you don’t want to come? Tommy’s been out there for some time now. You two haven’t talked in a bit.”
Technoblade shook his head. “He doesn’t want to see me. He made that perfectly clear. The feeling is mutual.”
“He’s your brother, Techno. You should visit him anyway.”
Techno sat down and opened a book, avoiding Phil’s gaze. “If I change my mind, you’ll be the first to know.”
Philza sighed and turned back to the tundra. He had no time to waste; Tommy’s birthday was on the horizon.
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“April showers bring May flowers.” Tommy had once heard. What a load of crap. Tommy sat huddled in his tent in Logstershire, the coat of his deceased older brother wrapped tightly around his aching shoulders. All the rain had ever given him were nights spent with his back to the wet tarp of his tent. Last night was no different.
Even now a gentle rain fell from the overcast sky, giving the ground no chance to dry. Tommy was left to drag his bare feet through the mud as he made his way to Logstershire proper. The dirt caked to his blistered skin, weighing down each step.
“Hey Henry.” Tommy whispered, gently petting the strawberry colored cow. “S-sorry you got left out in the rain. Next month better have some banger flowers growing up for you to snack on.”
The animal let out its signature lowing noise, and Tommy appreciated their mutual acknowledgement of the foul weather. He politely picked a few mushrooms growing on the cow’s back. “Always doing your part, h-huh Henry? Good boy.”
Tommy snacked while he walked, trying to keep his mind away from the wet, the cold, the mud on his skin, and holes in his shirt. He didn’t have what it took to take care of himself most days, not that it would be easy, even for a functional person, out in the middle of who knows where. At least he was eating. Tommy had thinned since he had been exiled at the dead end of Fall. However, with spring came a new beginning, one that Tommy hoped to capitalize upon.
The rain had stopped now, and Tommy stood over the ground, tilling the soil with a freshly crafted iron hoe. Every inch of him hurt. He hadn’t exerted himself in weeks. He looked up, shielding his face as the sun peeked between the clouds, revealing it to be almost 1 in the afternoon.
The brilliant light the sun offered was never there to wake him up in the rainy season. Not that he wanted to wake up when it was, but the sun and his hunger pains could make it hard to go back to a light sleep.
Tommy was just about to return to his work while he still held an ounce of motivation within himself, before he heard a familiar voice that sent shivers down his spine.
“Hey Toms. You’re sure hard at work.”
Dream.
Tommy had a slight smile on his face when he had seen the sun, but it had since faded. He let a forced laugh escape his chapped lips. Having company was nice, even crap company he supposed. “Hey Dream.” Gosh his voice was hoarse. Dream hadn’t visited in a while, and the only person he had had to talk to was Henry, who he only whispered to, and Ghostbur, who had, ironically enough, been ghosting him lately. “Just pr-preparing the land so I can plant something in the summer, y’know, while the weather’s good.”
“Hmm, don’t I always get you what you need though?” The man stomped on a patch of dirt, filling in part of a till line.
“I-I know, I just wanted to-“
“What? To get your own food? That’s an awful lot of work isn’t it? I hardly see you up and about this place. You really think you could handle it?” He kicked up some soil.
Tommy faltered. He had been excited to start his own garden, but as always, Dream was right.
“No worries though!” Dream put his arm over his shoulder and Tommy flinched, the human contact rippling through him like a current. “I’ve got your back. That’s what friends are for right?”
“Right...” Tommy answered quietly. Dream led him away from his previous pursuit, taking unusually heavy steps on the cultivated soil.
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“That hoe you’ve got there, drop in the hole.”
Tommy looked up from the jukebox. He had been letting Chirp play. Dream stood leaning on a netherite shovel over a small spot he had clearly just dug. Tommy quickly and carefully placed the disk back in his Ender chest before returning to drop his tool in the hole without question.
“Is that everything you have? Empty your pockets.”
Tommy turned his pockets inside out, not saying a word. Dream didn’t like complaints. He had only some remaining mushrooms from Henry and an axe he had used to find wood when his tent had broken earlier in the week.
“Hmm, the axe too.” Tommy threw it in. “What about that compass of yours? I spotted it in your Ender chest.”
“Mm, yeah, i-it’s the one that points to…” He didn’t want to say the name.
Dream finished his sentence for him. “Tubbo, yeah.” He huffed. “Why would you even hold onto that? He got rid of his ages ago, remember?”
“I know.”
“Give it to me.”
“But-”
“You heard me, hand it over.”
Tommy hesitated for a second, but only before remembering something Dream had told him months ago when he had first been exiled:
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“Drop your armor in Tommy.”
“Or what?”
“Let me set something straight with you Tommy, if you’re asking me ‘Or what,’ I need you to know the answer is always going to be ‘Or I’m going to kill you or worse.’ Now please, drop it in.”
-------
Tommy shuddered and grabbed the compass from his chest, letting the gentle purple glow give color to his pale face for a moment. He handed the compass over to Dream, his thumb grazing over the inscription one last time before his prized possession fell into the last hands that would ever hold it. Your Tubbo.
With a crack it hit the ground, glass shattering against the hard ground. Dream dropped a lighter to the bottom of the pit, setting the items ablaze. He was thankful Dream hadn’t made him do it this time.
Tommy couldn’t wrench his eyes away from the flames. He longed to reach out and touch them with his already bandaged hands.
“You know I’m doing this to protect you Tommy. Tubbo doesn’t care about you, not a soul in L’manburg does. No one except...” He pulled Tommy into a suffocating hug. “Me.”
“You.” Tommy echoed. He buried his face in Dream’s shoulder. “Just you.”
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The trip took longer than Philza had hoped. Rainy season meant snow in the tundra, which did a traveler such as himself no good. However, the determination of a father should never be underestimated. He wanted to make sure his youngest son was doing okay. Dream was a wildcard for sure, and he of all people had taken on watching him. Tommy was probably doing alright though. Dream was powerful, surely capable of getting the boy whatever he needed.
He arrived at an empty camp. No Dream, no Tommy, just quiet. Phil dropped his pack near the wall of a log fort, the one he assumed Tommy was most likely staying. A cow greeted him with a polite moo as he knocked on the door to a small building. No answer, but it was unlocked. Peeking inside, he found no one. A picture of L’manburg was hung on the wall, taken back around Christmas. Tommy had definitely been here. Ghostbur was supposed to be here too, right? His… other son.
He left the small fort and wandered down the shoreline, calling out for his son. He had to be here. Dream wouldn’t have let him go back to L’manburg, he knew that for sure.
“Tommy? You out here?” He cupped his hands around his mouth to let the sound carry. He was sure this was his camp.
“Phil?”
He spun around to see his youngest son stepping out of a nearby Nether portal.
“Tommy!” He ran up to him and pulled his son into a gentle hug. Phil didn’t notice him flinch at the contact. “I’m so glad that you’re-”
He stopped as he got a good look at Tommy. He didn’t look okay. His feet were bare and covered in burns, bandages ran from his hands and up his arms past the torn sleeves of his shirt, scratches and smudges of dirt littered his face. His eyes weren’t blue any longer, the jewel tone now replaced by a cloudy grey.
Philza frowned deeply. “Where’s Dream?”
“He’s s-still in the nether, he’ll be back soon… I think.” Tommy wrapped his arms around himself and looked down. “Why are you e-even here, Phil? It’s been m-months since the beach party. Y’know, the one you didn’t come to?”
A stutter? He was pretty sure Tommy hadn’t had one of those before.
“Tommy… I didn’t receive an invitation…”
“N-no, that can’t be right!” He shook his head. “Wilbur said he would deliver them! A-and Dream… Dream told me everyone got theirs.”
Phil didn’t know what to think about that and opted to fuss over his youngest instead of pushing the issue. “Well… there must have been some mistake, and I’m here now. Where is your armor? You shouldn’t be leaving the overworld without it. Look at your feet, all blistered. Didn’t I give you shoes last time I came? No matter, I’ve got you another pair-”
Tommy pushed Philza away. “Stop it,” He spat. “I don’t need your pity things.”
“Tommy,” Philza cupped his face gently, rubbing away some of the dirt. “I’m your dad, I give you things because I care about you, not because I pity you. I love you.”
Tommy scoffed. “Actions speak louder than words. And yours s-sure have said a lot these past few months.”
“Please, just-”
A voice spoke up from the nether portal. “Hands off Philza.” Phil took a quick step back as a porcelain mask came into view. Dream set a firm hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “You alright?”
“Yeah. Just Phil’s here trying to give me his pity.”
Dream let out a small laugh. “Bit late for that. Look, you can stay if Tommy wants, but I doubt it.”
Phil gave a pleading look to his son. He was here for him. Techno and he both knew Tommy might not want company, but he was willing to fight for his family.
“F-fine.” Tommy mumbled as he started to wander off. “I’ve got an extra tent set up.”
“Tent?” Philza asked, turning to Dream. “Don’t tell me he still doesn’t have a house? It’s been 4 months! And you’ve been here with him! What have you been doing all this time?”
“That’s for me to know. He’s alive. Isn’t that enough for you? I’m not his caretaker anyway. I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t violate the terms of his exile. Now, you ought to go set up your things. Not that it will matter. I doubt you’ll be here long.”
Phil huffed and began towards Logstershire to grab his pack. As he passed Dream, however, a whisper met his ears. “He’s mine, Philza.” He could almost hear the sick grin behind that mask of his.
“You bastard.” Philza swung his fist, hitting Dream square in the jaw and cracking the bottom half of the painted porcelain plate. Before Dream could pull out his sword, Tommy came running back from his tent, aghast at the sight of fighting.
“Could you two NOT?”
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Dream had left hours ago, pretending not to be nursing a bruised jaw and claiming to have important things to do. Now it was just them. Philza had been hoping for father-son bonding, but as the sun set, it was looking more and more like that might not happen. Tommy was silent, something he was not known to be, and it unsettled Phil.
“You’re awful quiet.”
“Mhmm.” Tommy hummed “Not many people to t-talk to out here.”
“Right, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You know I don’t like that.”
Philza held back a second sorry. “Has no one else really visited you?”
“Ranboo used to- used to come around, but it’s just been me for a while now.”
“You and Dream.”
“Y-yeah. He’s the only one who really cares. He doesn’t pity me.”
“Isn’t he the reason you’re here?”
Tommy scoffed and stood to his feet. “I’m not so sure anymore.”