A Prince, Long Forgotten (Discontinued)

Southeast

T.W. Blood, Pain, Yelling

Tommy collapsed to the ground, the exposed skin of his knees scraping against the sharp stones and the tree’s roots that sat above the dirt. His hands trembled, his knuckles white as he gripped clumps of grass and moss in his fists. Morrigan flapped and squawked, loose feathers fluttering to the ground and onto Tommy’s back. As sweat dripped down from Tommy’s forehead and onto the back of his hands, he became aware of the screams. Bloodcurdling, ear-piercing shrieks surrounded the boy, shattering the tranquil silence of the surrounding forest. For a moment, Tommy wanted nothing more than to find the source of the screams, to help the person who seemed to be in agony. The boy squeezed his eyes shut as another wave of misery tore through his back. Tommy’s throat felt raw, and he soon realized that the screams were his own.
“F-F***!” Blinded by pain, Tommy failed to see Morrigan land near the compass. He failed to see the once black eyes of the corvid glow blue, like a storm at sea as it gazed at the surface of the compass. With a click of its beak, Morrigan turned to face the tormented boy. The blue eyes served as a window to a certain blonde Elytrian held captive in a dreamon’s dungeon.

Phil could feel the tears on his face as he watched his adopted son writhe upon the ground. But, being in a cell hundreds of miles away, there was little he could do to comfort the boy. He turned the head of Morrigan back towards the compass. The needle pointed steadily towards L’manburg. “Southeast…” Phil muttered as he felt the vision flicker, the edges darkening and revealing the darkened walls of the cell that contained him. I don’t have much time. Closing his eyes swiftly, Phil gave the command. “Get help. Follow the compass.” Morrigan turned away the boy. Clicking its beak, Morrigan nuzzled against Tommy’s hand, not wanting to abandon the child in his time of need. “Save Tommy! Please…” Ruffling its feathers in annoyance, Morrigan took off, following its internal compass towards L’manburg.

“Save Tommy…” Phil whispered as the vision faded away. Blinking away the tears that blurred his vision, Phil’s heart dropped into his stomach as he came face to face, or rather, face to mask, with Dream. Phil could see the sickening grin just behind the dreamons mask. How much did Dream see? How much had he heard?

Dream chuckled, running a finger along the edge of his sword. “I wondered when you were going to use that old Elytrian trick. Looking through the eyes of birds.” Dream’s voice was cold and steady, laced with venom as he stepped closer to the chained man. Phil glared daggers towards the dreamon and forced himself to stand taller. Dream tilted his head, the lifeless eyes of his mask boring into Phil’s blue ones. “So nice to see you’re checking in on your boys….” Dream lifted the sword up, “Southeast… I’ve heard some rumors… about a little community popping up. On my territory.” Phil’s heart pounded in his chest, yet his face showed no emotion. Dream swung the sword towards Phil, stopping just before the blade made contact with Phil’s throat. Phil didn’t flinch. Dream hummed in amusement before sheathing the weapon. “You know. I was going to just ignore that little hovel. After all, why waste my time on a bunch of refugees?” Phil felt his blood run cold as Dream stalked away from him and towards the door. “But now, knowing your sons are in that direction, I might as well pay a visit. See if I can’t leave a little-well... we’ll call it a housewarming gift, shall we?” Dream cackled, slamming the door behind him just as Phil lunged towards him, held back by the chains anchored to the wall.

“You leave my boys alone! You bastard!” His screams were ignored as Dream climbed the stairs.

We’re coming for you, Princeling. Just you wait.

•

Tommy lay in a crumpled heap on the ground. Sweat clung to his body in a futule attempt to stifle the white hot fever. His head was pounding and the forest around swayed around him as if he were in a rowboat at sea. His throat burned as wave after wave of nausea won out over the boy's bullheadedness. He had managed to roll away from the piles of vomit after his stomach had nothing more to purge, but had immediately regretted his decision when he rolled too far, tumbling down a hill and into a bramble filled ditch.
His back slammed into the bottom of the ditch hard, ripping an agonizing scream from Tommy's lungs. He rolled again the pain of the thorns and twings cutting into his skin. Their sting was nothing compared to the agony of Tommy’s back being torn open. He felt his skin ripping just behind his shoulders. Something hot and wet began soaking the back of Tommy’s shirt. He wanted to turn his head, he wanted to see what it was, but at that moment, the pain crescendoed as the sound of skin and fabric ripping apart, echoed into the empty forest around him.

Silence filled the forest.

Silence that was only broken by the sound if crickets, of animals scurryung in the underbrush, and the raspy gasps of a boy, no longer in agony. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his limbs trembling from the effort. His thoughts were jumbled and foggy. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep, fully knowing that he was, in fact, bleeding out. However, as if his body had a mind of its own, he began crawling out of the ditch. He knew something was different. He felt the stinging of the thorns biting his now exposed back. But he also felt the same pain, along two previously non-existent limbs.

He finally reached the lip of the ditch. Diggin his fingers into the dirt and grass, he slowly hoisted himself up and over, lying on his stomach and gasping for air. Darknes began gathering at the edges of his vision. His mind began to quiet, and he welcomed the embrace of sleep.

Quick footsteps approached. Getting closer and closer. Just before he fell unconscious, the voice of Tubbo, the voice he had missed for so long, reached his ears.
"TOMMY?!"

Word Count: 1,005