A Prince, Long Forgotten (Discontinued)

The Search

Eight days. For eight days, the citizens of L'manburg searched for Tommy. Tubbo had been the first to notice the absence of the blonde teen.

He had awoken early the morning after Tommy's excursion into the woods. They had plans to explore the forest that day, and Tubbo didn't want to waste a minute of it. As he had done so many times before, he'd barged into Tommy's base; a humble bunker dug into the side of a hill.

"Hey! Big man! Time to go!" Tubbo's grin faltered when he saw the room empty. The bed in the corner was pristine, undisturbed. No one had spent the night here. Tubbo had rushed to Wilbur's side in an instant, informing his older brother of the disappearance of the young blonde. The search began immediately.

Eret had found the first clue. Torn clothing in an open clearing. He brought the fabric to Wilbur, who confirmed it was from one of Tommy's signature t-shirts. Anxious energy fueled the search as the little community left no stone unturned, abstaining from meals and sleep to maximize their time. However, they were only human - well, mostly human in the case of Fundy, and soon Eret collapsed from exhaustion and hunger. Reluctantly, Wilbur decided to bring the search to a standstill. They could only find Tommy if they were in their best shape physically. So for two days, the group rested. But not Tubbo.

When Wilbur, Eret, and Fundy found themselves in a deep sleep, Tubbo would sneak out under the cover of darkness. He scrutinized every piece of evidence they had and followed every lead. As the hours passed, so too grew Tubbo's desperation to find his best friend and brother. He was determined never to lose his family again. Memories of his mother's dying words and his father's sacrifice plagued his mind, fueling his urge to continue. The only things standing in his way were the thick darkness obscuring his vision and the ever-growing fatigue wracking his body. Tubbo searched the dark for hours, only to return to L'manburg a couple of hours before sunrise. He'd crawl into his bed, hoping to get at least an hour of rest before continuing his search in the daylight hours.

On the eighth day, Tubbo had yet to return home. He pushed farther than any citizen of L'manburg dared to travel. Wilbur would awaken to find another family member missing, but Tubbo didn't care. He needed to find Tommy.

He pushed through thick clumps of bushes, his clothes snagging on branches and thorns biting into his skin. He stumbled over roots and his own feet as his body trembled with exhaustion. Tears clung to his eyelashes and trickled down his cheeks. He blamed most of them on his fatigue, but he was lying to himself. His stomach churned with hunger and dread as he pressed forward. What if we never find him? What if I'll never see Tommy again!? Lost in his thoughts and blinded by tears, Tubbo failed to notice the tree root sticking out above the soil.

Throwing his arm out to catch himself too late, he toppled to the ground, yelping as pain shot like lightning through his wrist. He lay in a crumpled heap in the dirt and mud, the weight of his situation crashing down on him in waves. His best friend was missing, he was nearly dead on his feet, and he had now sprained his wrist to top it all off.

He laid still for a long while, allowing his aching body to rest while his wrist throbbed painfully. He wanted nothing more than to get up, dust himself off, and find Tommy standing there, calling him an idiot for tripping. He smirked at the thought. Tubbo could almost hear Tommy's wheezing laughter drifting through the breeze for a moment, but it faded quickly into the distance. Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks as he lay in the dusty undergrowth. He was desperate to keep going, but his exhausted body fought against him. Gritting his teeth, Tubbo tried to force himself up. His limbs trembled and ached from the effort, but he managed to get to his knees when a black shape caught his eye.

His attention snapped in the direction of the shape. His heart pounding, Tubbo found himself staring into the beady eyes of a crow. Tubbo could have mistaken the bird for a statue if not for how the wind ruffled its feathers. Tubbo moved his hand toward it as slowly as possible to not disturb the creature. The crow sat and watched, making no move to avoid Tubbo's reach. Instead, the midnight-black corvid stepped closer, allowing the boy's fingertips to contact its silky feathers.