Take My Wings

Chapter 1

Wings. Tommy had wings.

Big, beautiful wings had begun to grow from Tommy's back when he was merely a child, four, maybe five years old. They'd gotten bigger, more beautiful as he'd grown, although Tommy could feel them becoming more and more of a burden.

They reminded him of his father, of when he was a child. They reminded him of the days he'd spend out in the woods with Phil and Techno, and the warmth of the cabin as they exchanged stories.

But most of all, the reminded him of Wilbur. The one person who had always been there for him. The one person he lost.

Now he sat, cheek pressed against the cool stone floor of his tent, a thin blanket the only thing keeping him...warm. He had no flint and steel, no wood, no way of lighting even a small fire. He knew he could go and find the supplies, but going out at night was a death trap, he knew better.

Four months.

He'd been in exile for almost four months now.

Ghostbur had disappeared three weeks in. Ranboo had stopped writing to him two months in. he'd heard nothing of his family, he supposed Technoblade and Phil were off, having their own adventures. They probably didn't know Tommy had even been exiled.

Not even Tubbo had visited.

He couldn't deny that it hurt. Knowing what Dream said was true, knowing his friends didn't care about him anymore. Knowing his father didn't care.

It made him dislike his wings. memories would flood back every time he looked at them, every time Dream sat him down, plucking at his baby feathers.

They reminded him of Phil, they reminded him of the early days of L'manberg, where he'd fly high in the skies, Wilbur watching from below. Before his brother went positively insane, that is.

Sometimes he wished he didn't inherit his father's wings. although he knew there was no changing it. They were useless to him now anyway. Dream had banned flying in his exile, and Tommy knew he had no choice but to comply.

He feared what Dream would do to his wings if he didn't.

With a sigh, the boy shook his head, closing his eyes to listen to the sound of the ocean lapping at the sand. A light breeze blew through a hole in his tent, making him shiver, and Tommy knew he was in store for another sleepless night.

~

Dawn had just broken above the horizon as Tommy dragged himself from the makeshift bed. He rubbed his eyes, the bags prominent on his face. He was thin, underweight, and his stomach rumbled as he looked through his barrels, searching for any left-over food from the day before. He managed to find a few scraps of bread, and he shoved them down his throat eagerly, settling the ache in his stomach.

He stretched, exhaustion plaguing his eyes as he headed into Logstedshire, opening the door and sliding down the ladder to his hidden chests.

Tommy knew if Dream ever discovered them, he'd be fucked. He knew the man would punish him, but whatever free will he had left was telling him to rebel, to rebel against Dream, against his exile, against his friends. And, although Logstedshire was now where he stayed, he still longed to go back. He longed to be loved again, with his friends, his family. He longed to go home.

He checked over the chests, re-organising the contents and putting on a new set of armour. Then he climbed out from the hole, stretching his wings and sealing it off. He flapped a few times, sitting down in a not so comfy chair. He brushed the dust off his wings, cringing slightly at the sight of them. His feathers were mattered, and they no longer held the shine they used to. Sighing, he stood, strapping a sword to his back to head out for his daily hunt. The only way to restore his wings to their former glory was to eat more, and although he didn't particularly care about them, he knew he could at least make them look presentable.